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𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲.
𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jeong yunho x f!reader x park seonghwa
𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: were you working with the mad, or were you mad yourself?
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 28.8k
𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: forensicpsychiatrist!reader, patient!yunho, therapist!seonghwa, arrogant!reader, slowburn, nsfw content, mind games, manipulation, violence, bl00d, self h4rm, dissociative identity disorder, mental health, intermittent explosive disorder, mentions of child predat0rs and sex off3nders, mentions of trafficking, major character death.
𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: this is a dark psychological thriller, the themes i write about are not meant to be glorified. read responsibly. reread the warnings if needed before proceeding. if you find any typos, please don’t mind them. I’ve spent a year writing and deleting and rewriting I honestly am proud I managed to wrap it up.
not when there is nothing clouding your mind. no romance, a family that lives far away, no pets, a personal housekeeper, and a private chef. all you really have to do is stay on top at all times. not for the paycheck, and certainly not to prove yourself to anyone - other than yourself - but because of opportunities.
your not-so-new position has opened a new door for you, revealing countless cases that those below you don't even think about, let alone dream of. if offered, they would've declined. and you wouldn't blame them. after all, they all stayed in the same position for years, not bothering to thrive in their career or life. it is just a job to them. and such people don't deserve any new doors being opened for them. they should stay below you, and let ambitious people like you take over and make the best of what they are given.
opportunities, such as the one that lays on your perfectly organized desk in a form of a thick file folder, are what keeps your life interesting. you thrive off someone else's misfortune. they do get better, eventually. they add numbers to your salary, satisfy your hungry brain and odd interests, and leave to have a better life. mostly.
this one, however, might be here a while. and he might be the first real opportunity you have to show off your true expertise in the field.
the serenity haven institute was so kind to send you the file folder, along with the letter in which they beg you - professionally - to visit their facility and help the poor dr. sloane burke with the patient. accepting the offer means moving cities. and moving cities means a temporary fresh start. a change you might need. perhaps their facility has professionals, and not staff. you frown upon those who do a measly job and wait on their tippy toes by the doors, almost stacking there on top of each other to see which one can leave the fastest. tsk. imbeciles.
the luxury suite on the top floor of the indigo hotel is not as luxurious as you thought it would be. nothing compares to your minimalist dark marble house just outside the city, with windows almost replacing entire walls and making each passerby envious of your treasures. your house is a contrast to your workplace. the never-ending white halls and tiled floors are replaced by dark green or black walls and mahogany floors. the shades of silver turn into gold when you step inside, and the only thing that is white in the house are your work clothes. even your dishes are black, with a golden rim.
the hotel suite is not much different. the gold accents are there, yet the black and dark green are replaced by their signature indigo. it lacks elegance. you mention it to the receptionist upon exiting the building, who only gives you a raised eyebrow and makes you roll your eyes. you are surrounded by such average people.
just as you step foot into the serenity haven institute, you realize that these people are no better. they were waiting for you, and not in a welcoming a new doctor way, but "please, help us, we are desperate and don't know how to do our jobs" way.
dr. sloane burke is a stunning woman. mid forties, blonde haired, icy blue eyes, and a striking posture. and incredibly dense. no wonder they couldn't make progress with the patient. talking with her over a cup of tea in their mediocre cafeteria has made you realize that you are indeed the best, not only in your facility, but elsewhere too. perhaps they needed someone like you, whether they wanted it or not.
"dr. park awaits you in the psychiatric ward. see that garden?" the woman points at the glass doors of the hallways that reveal a garden planted in the middle of the building. when you nod, she continues. "you can go that way since the weather is nice today. just so you don't have to go all the way around and get lost. dr. park will be waiting for you at the hallway entrance. just follow the signs to your right."
going alone had its little perks. you could linger in the garden a little, eyes taking in every flower that is hidden in the grass and every bench that blends in with the trees in the shades. it is early, and the summer heat has yet to strike for today. the garden seems empty, even though it feels like a presence lingers among the shadows of the green branches. you shake it off, continuing your journey through the garden and into the other side of the facility.
it is difficult to mask your disappointment. nobody greets you. nobody seems happy to be here. they treat it like a retail job. how foolish. spending hard earned money and a lot of time to educate themselves and land a job here, only to walk around with sour looks on their faces and counting the minutes until the break or the end of the shift.
and then, your eyes land on dr. park.
gods. doctor park. such a man shouldn't be able to exist. was he a figment of your imagination? were you finally going crazy and started imagining men after being unable to find any decent ones? were you brought here as a patient, not a doctor?
"ah, our saviour!" his lips, a pretty pink shade, curl and reveal a pearly white smile. you swear you feel your knees buckle. "park seonghwa, pleased to meet you."
and he has manners? good lord. it takes you a while to blink, and then to finally accept the hand that waits for yours. his touch is gentle, and as soft as his gaze. chestnut eyes sparkle under the early morning sunrays, and he might be the only person to escape the cruelty of the bright hospital lights that make everyone look monotone and grey. dr. park stands out, even though he wears the same attire as his colleagues. his skin has a warm tone which others are missing, and when he smiles, your stomach feels fuzzy. oh, how you've forgotten how it feels. fingers itch to remove the caramel stray hair from his face. you are jealous of his hair colour.
suddenly, you feel very insecure about how you look. you are put together. you think. but under his gaze, you can't help but feel like you could've done more. the stain that you managed to wash out from your blazer is suddenly noticeable again, your nail polish is chipped, and the tote bag that loosely hangs from your shoulder could've been replaced by one of the countless designer ones you own. you didn't think there would be anyone worth impressing. not in this way, at least.
"doctor...?" his velvety voice meets your ears. once again, you feel like a fool. how can you let this happen? "is everything alright?"
"yes!" you shout accidentally. you didn't know the word would come out so loud, and as if it would fix the damage, you slap your palm over your mouth, smearing your lip gloss in the process. this is a mess. "i apologize, dr. park."
the man only smiles at you. "if you need a moment, there is a toilet nearby-"
"no, no." you shake your head. "i'm fine."
in reality, you wish to redo this encounter. you wish you were back at the hotel, choosing a lipstick over a lip gloss, and retouching your nails. then, coming in here with confidence and swiping him off his feet. that's how it had always been; you being the reason behind dropped jaws, lingering stares and stuttering, not the other way around.
"so..." you trail, wiping at your cheek in hopes to remove the raspberry flavoured sticky residue from it.
and just when you thought that your moment of weakness has passed, dr. park seonghwa gently grabs your wrist, moving your hand away from your face. his tongue peeks out just enough to wet the tip of his thumb, which he brings over to your now irritated skin and effortlessly wipes the lip gloss away. "there. all pretty again."
you wish the ground would swallow you. your cheeks are blazing, and the tips of your ears feel as if they turned a newly discovered shade of red. this exchange is highly unprofessional, and knowing you, you'd already be on your way to a supervisor or writing an angry e-mail. but now you know pretty privilege exists, because dr. park is just too drop dead gorgeous to do anything about it. hell, you don't mind it.
"unfortunately, i already have to abandon you to return to my area. i'm sure you can manage, though. i've heard a lot about your excellency." he knows which words to say, and what buttons to push. and you hate and like him for that. nobody knew how to work you, and he has solved you within two seconds of meeting you. "the patient is in the room at the end of the hallway, marked with a red line below the window and the only one with an id pad. i'm sure they've added your id card to the approved visits list?"
"yes." you reply, clutching the rectangle plastic in your pocket.
"good luck, doctor. i hope we cross paths again."
"thank you, doctor park."
your eyes are reluctant to abandon his slender figure. you have a job to do, not crushes to chase. yet.
with a sigh, you bring the id card to the pad, listening closely for a beeping sound and waiting for the screen to flash a green light. park seonghwa has taken all the joy out of this. and that is another reason to hate him. the more reasons you can find, the sooner you'll get back to your usual state. what happened back there was unacceptable, and it will not happen again.
"mr. jeong yunho, i am-"
"mmf!"
eyes shoot up at the figure in front of you: a man, tied to the chair, naked except his boxers. the undershirt is stuck into his mouth, while the rest of the clothes are ripped to shreds and coat the floor. you step back, disgust towards this place clouding your mind again.
"doctor burke?" you are quick to dial her number.
"yes, doctor? did you manage to find dr park?"
"mmpf! mmm!"
you tilt your head to the side, trying to figure out why the man's eyes are so wide and why he is in this position. "do you usually tie your patients to a chair and gag them? half naked?"
"what?"
"you heard me. please get over here. this is a matter that must be discussed immediately."
within seconds, dr. sloane burke bursts into the room, and a gasp echoes in it. "doctor park!"
now, you are more confused than ever. the blonde haired man is finally freed from the undershirt, and doesn't waste a second before shouting:
"yunho ran away in my clothes."
what?
𝐉𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐇𝐎.
most of these cases can be solved by one very simple question.
"so... jeong yunho." you say, disappointed.
"i didn't mean to, doctor! i swear!" the man cries out, curling up on the bed. "he made me do it!"
"do you sometimes get confused about which personality is the good one and which is the bad one?"
and it does the trick. the cries stop, and the brown eyed man sits up straight, tilting his head to the side. "ouch. very professional of you, doctor. that will cost you."
"this isn't my first rodeo." you sigh, and then push yourself off the wall you were leaning on. "i'm just disappointed that i have wasted my time by coming here. you aren't a special case. you just want to escape time in prison, and you were in luck to find doctors with no brain cells here."
"careful, pretty." the way he raises his eyebrow and shows his wicked smile shouldn't have sent chills down your spine. you try your hardest to hide the gulp, but yunho sees it. he is observant. his hungry gaze eats up your every feature, every breath, and every blink. "would be a shame to send you away so soon. i could use new company."
"you think you are in the position to threaten me with my job?"
the man stands up, and you almost flinch at the sudden clink that echoes in the room. almost. the handcuffs on his wrist slide along the metal bar of the bed frame, until he is at the bottom of it, almost reaching you with his free hand. you don't allow yourself to move, planting your feet on the ground and maintaining eye contact. "your name will go on my suicide note."
then, wicked laughter fills the room. it isn't often that you feel uneasy. but now, you watch his eyes glimmer with something unknown to you as he devours you with his gaze, and you find yourself clutching the file to your chest.
after all, this man managed to fool doctor park, tied him to a chair and fooled you as well. and to think that you enjoyed him touching you? disgust rushes through your body, mixed with adrenaline. you are confused. that hasn't happened in a while, and this place managed to do it twice in the span of two hours.
"this is merely an introduction, mr jeong. our journey is yet to start." your tone is sharp.
the metal clinks again, yunho leaning over so that he can get a hold of you if he tried a little harder. he knows he can, but chooses not to; you know it as well. you see it in his gaze. yet he opts to stare deep into your eyes, as if using magic to burn into them and get to your brain and enchant you with his dark spells.
"don't get too comfortable. would hate to see yunho do something to that gorgeous face."
"so this is stefano talking now?" you question, tilting your head on the side, mimicking his earlier stance.
he chuckles. "no, doc. this is your worst nightmare speaking."
"how clever." you say, yet you feel your blood going cold in your veins. "i'll see you soon, mr jeong."
mistake number one: never turn your back first. walk away backwards, and turn once you've safely reached the door. why? because the deranged, self absorbed, lying patient might grab you by your hair and yank you towards him.
the gasp doesn't manage to escape your lips, instead ending up trapped in your throat. jeong yunho's hand covers almost half of your face, muffling any noise you intended on making. his fingers are painfully digging into your skin, and you know it'll bruise. shivers run through your body as you feel his hot breath on your ear. and then, his teeth. teeth biting on your earlobe, not gentle, yet not painful. enough to plant a seed of true fear in your body.
he holds you with a single hand on your mouth, with his other one still cuffed to the bed frame. and there is nothing you can do about it. your body succumbs to his power, limbs going numb. all limbs free, yet useless. is this how you'll meet your end? by being an utter fool?
"listen to me, doctor." his voice is raspy and low, sending vibrations through your ear and turning into a new set of shivers that run through your body. "i'm not your fucking experimental guinea pig. you can collect achievements somewhere else, on someone else. not me."
never in your life did you stand so still. never in your life did you feel pure fear like this. jeong yunho is deranged, now you know. not because of his written diagnosis, but because he might be pure evil. the wicked grin, the façade that has fooled a whole facility, the acts. something tells you that you won't be able to escape him, even if you tried.
"you know..." he trails, tapping his thumb against your cheek. then, he slowly drops his palm from your face to your neck, and wastes no time in burying his fingers on the sides of it. "i could just snap your pretty little neck if i wanted to. so fragile. so easy."
a pathetic gasp finally leaves you; music to yunho's ears. his grip tightens, and you don't know if lack of oxygen is playing tricks on you, or if yunho really is that strong, but it feels as if your body levitates from the ground. you don't feel the floor beneath your feet, and you are losing the little balance you had left.
"can't wait to see you bruise. you'll look so pretty." with that, he drops your weak body on the ground. he really did pick you up just by your neck.
you waste no time in crawling to the metal door, back leaning against it as your hands fly to your neck in hopes of relieving the pain. you breathe in the air that you have taken for granted until now. your earlobe stings, your cheeks and neck ache, and your head spins. the clink of the metal echoes in the room again, and you watch in disbelief as yunho walks over to the armchair placed next to the bed, then plops on it. all while looking at you.
"you're going to regret this," your voice is hoarse.
his lips curve upwards, revealing the freakishly pearly teeth in a grin. "can't wait, little lamb."
𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐖𝐀.
you may have a notebook addiction.
twenty-seven empty notebooks at home, all with hard covers, their own carefully picked bookmarks, color customized sticky tabs. all twenty-seven collecting dust in your apartment while you raid the local stationery shop for a brand new one.
jeong yunho is your experimental guinea pig, whether he likes it or not. no amount of fear will stop you. you dropped your guard yesterday, the adrenaline from the park seonghwa fiasco still working in you. or maybe you were high from the praises, and all of it hit you right in the head. you overestimated yourself.
but you'd never admit it out loud. you never do. you silently lower yourself to the ground, and learn from your own mistakes. jeong yunho will regret ever looking your way, let alone putting his hands on you.
passing by a mirror in the shop, you come to a stop. the concealer did a poor job of hiding the bruises on your neck and cheek. as you abruptly turn around as to not look at his reminders anymore, your hair sticks to the lip gloss on your lips, and you smear it on your cheek once again. you are reminded of the hallway incident. despite working on various cases from the start of your career, it never ceases to astonish you how one person can possess two vastly different sides.
you've witnessed a man in your life be a wonderful father, yet a terrible husband. you've observed a woman be a mother worth of envy, yet an unfaithful wife. you've seen a boy be a sweet brother, yet a terrible friend. all in one place, in your own family. and now, you have yet to discover what sides are hiding within your newest patient.
jeong yunho made you gawk. he made you feel the first butterflies in a while, made your cheeks heat up for a reason that wasn't anger or second-hand embarrassment. you allowed him to touch you. because he was handsome. because he had basic manners. because you're a fool. you haven't yet learned, it seems. letting your guard down is not an option, ever. even if you get married one day, you'll still have your guard up. you trust nobody but yourself.
your thoughts are interrupted by a discovery: a hard cover notebook the size of your handbag, with a black marble effect and gold edges on the paper. fitting for your aesthetic, as well as for yunho. perhaps you were odd for it. but who is there to judge you? making your way to the pen station, your eyes already catch a few. money was never the issue. lack of space? not until recently. but you'll surely make space for five new pens among a full drawer of them.
once in your hotel suite, you can't help but plop on the bed from exhaustion. you thought having a pleasant morning stroll would benefit you. it did, the first ten minutes. upon arriving at the hotel and seeing your trusted black maserati, you almost kissed it. you worked hard for that baby, and you cherish it every day. it has spoiled you. you have forgotten how to walk outside of your home or workplace.
the phone vibrates from the nightstand. at first, you think it is notifying you that it is done charging. you don't expect messages. you have made it clear that you are giving your number away for emergencies, and that you are not to be disturbed outside your working hours. you have sent your family money just a week ago, they shouldn't reach out to you for another three weeks. it surprises you when you see a message from an unknown number on your screen.
+82 31-0304-1998: greetings, dr y/n. this is dr park, i was supposed to escort you to your patient. apologies for the disturbance, but in my case this counts as an emergency. my shift ends early today and i won't see you, yet i would like to apologize for yesterday's situation. well, disaster, more like. now that the shock is gone, humiliation has set in, and i am desperate to fix my image in your eyes. would you grace me with your presence at the velvet cup café before your shift?
right, park seonghwa exists. had you not witnessed yunho's stunt in person, you would've thought of dr park as a weakling through stories and rumours that often traveled to your facility. the poor man didn't stand a chance. you could've ended up just like him, had it not been for the cuffs. or just yunho's mercy.
+82 31-1117-1117: seems emergency enough, dr park. very well. i'll see you at the velvet cup in an hour.
+82 31-0304-1998: you are very kind, doctor. i'll never forget this.
a jest. how delightful.
the summer heat has decided to strike twice as hard today. not even the air conditioner in your car could help the melting makeup from your face. you are forever grateful that your position allows you to dress however you wish. you can't help but enjoy the envious glances you get when crossing the parking lot of the hospital on your way to the café. you're rich, but never rich enough to not make use of free parking. the place is just a block away. a ten minute walk. five if you go through the facility.
and you do, boasting your pale pink, below knee length summer dress along the way, with a blazer hanging on your shoulders as to not violate the dress code of no bare shoulders allowed. the block heels of your sandals click against the freshly mopped floor. you feel their eyes. you thrive in it. and maybe, just maybe, you send a condescending smile their way, causing them to gasp in disbelief and erupt in mumbles. they'd never say it to your face.
when your pink sandal steps into the café, you are surprised to find it rather... satisfactory. dr park might have taste.
it is as if you have entered your own home, with velvet furniture, dark walls, golden corners and marble details. this might be your new favourite place, aside from the recently discovered stationary shop. you notice the blonde head sitting in a secluded area far from the windows.
as soon as his eyes lock with yours, he wastes no time in standing up and pulling the chair out for you. it earns him a few snickers and side eyes from a few teenagers hanging out by the bar taking pictures. a single sharp glance from him is all it takes to silence them, prompting them to turn their attention back to the coffee machine and the endless rows of beverages.
"nice to finally meet you. i'm dr park. the real dr park." he offers his hand with a smile. "but seonghwa is just fine."
you accept it. "nice to formally meet you, dr park seonghwa."
"i truly apologize, on behalf of the serenity haven institute. i was hoping your first impression would be less chaotic."
"no worries. if anything, it has me intrigued. therapist overpowered by the patient? you don't see that every day." you tease him.
to your surprise, he chuckles back. others would already be offended. "true. but, you don't see a jeong yunho every day, in my defense."
"right," you agree. you really don't see a jeong yunho every day. you thought he might be like others you've "treated", actors who crumbled under your pressure and ended up where they belong; prison. but yunho isn't just an actor. no, he is deranged, that you believe. the double personality? not as much.
the waiter soon takes both your orders, his being an espresso and yours a detox smoothie. he raises his eyebrow once the waiter arrives, eyes fixed on the green drink that is placed in front of you. "didn't take you for a smoothie person."
"didn't take you for a judgmental one." you raise your eyebrow as well, in a teasing way.
he laughs, his eyes crescent moons. "apologies. i just meant to say, my first impression of you through e-mails and the whole fiasco was different from how i see you now."
"meaning?"
"you seemed very... well, don't get offended, but..." he trails, as if considering whether or not to use the word that is on his mind or choose a less offensive one.
"well?" you press.
"scary." he finishes.
it is now your turn to laugh. seonghwa seems uneasy, not knowing whether or not to join you. "scary? based on e-mails?"
he tilts his head left and right, as if trying to remember more information. "maybe some rumours as well."
"hmm," you take a sip of your smoothie. instant refreshment hits you, and you might have to thank park seonghwa for showing you this place. the smoothie is a perfect temperature and consistency, and the banana doesn't overshadow other ingredients like it usually does. you aren't picky at all. "i'd love to hear some of those rumours."
"promise you won't cry?" he offers you his pinky finger.
you accept it, linking it with his and pressing your thumb to his to lock it. "i'll try my best."
recently, no conversation has flown so smoothly. seonghwa's voice is pleasant, and he speaks politely and slowly. not once did you have to lean in and say the huh you thought you were cursed with. he isn't good with eye contact, though. every time he looks at you and finds your gaze already locked on his figure, he looks away. were you truly that intimidating?
of course you were. you thrived in it. making people walk on eggshells around you has almost always been your thing, and as arrogant as it may sound, you don't want it to stop. you enjoy it. people not being able to stand up for themselves in front of you, not being able to look you in the eyes for longer than a few seconds, not knowing whether your laugh is sincere or sarcastic. you weren't intimidating. you were mean.
"i think my favourite one was about you being yunho's lover coming to get him out. something like the joker and harley quinn."
you should be disgusted. instead, you are amused. "why?"
"because those who met you and had the pleasure to work with you and were conveniently fired by you described you as having a double personality. they think of yunho and you as a perfect match." he finally finishes his espresso. you have downed your smoothie long ago.
"my favourite one has to be about me being a vampire and feeding on my patients. some even said they could see fang marks on their necks. i don't know who's more dense - those who claimed to have seen those things or those who believe it."
from there the conversation spirals into vampires, ghosts and horror movies and stories, and then lands on jeong yunho. theories about yunho being an entity sent to haunt places like this and collect doctors with his dark magic, creating his army to take over the world, then laughing about it. how professional, laughing at a patient. except, this is the very first time that you do it. simply because yunho doesn't need help. he's nothing but a liar.
"oh, the time!" you notice the clock hanging on the wall behind the blond man. "i must abandon you now, dr park-"
"seonghwa, please." he insists. "at least outside our workplace."
you hum, standing up and putting the blazer over your shoulders. "alright, seonghwa. thank you for the drink, and for showing me a decent café. i know where my time and paycheck will be going now."
"well," he stands up as well, picking your shoulder bag up from the table and offering to put it on you. you let him, sliding a hand through the bag strap and letting it rest against your hip. he stands close, but not enough to make you uncomfortable. just so that you can properly see his soft brown eyes and his flawless smile. "if you ever feel lonely, or wish to hear more rumours about yourself, you know how and where to find me."
"that i do." you return the smile. "thank you, seonghwa. i can assure you that you have restored your dignity in my eyes."
"ah, a relief, truly." he puts a hand over his heart. "i can't quite assure you that i don't find you scary anymore, though."
"you shouldn't."
to seonghwa, it is a joke. he laughs as he watches you send him a wink and leave the café. to you, not as much. he should still somewhat fear you. that is your defense. what from? well, you don't need a reason. you need to be your best and strongest self in the eyes of everyone, so that nobody even dares to think of crossing you.
it was that easy until now, why is all of it crumbling as soon as you stepped foot in the serenity haven institute? just what are park seonghwa and jeong yunho?
𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐄.
13/06/2015
cold blooded murder in a family neighbourhood
in a shocking turn of events, police have arrested 21-year-old yunho jeong in connection with the brutal murder of a local shopkeeper in the heart of the city. the incident occurred late sunday night, and has left the community shocked and divided.
authorities were called to the scene after the shopkeeper's daughter saw jeong pressing a knife to her father's throat. upon arrival, officers discovered the lifeless body of 57-year-old ethan morris, the owner of a beloved corner store, lying in a pool of blood with his daughter beside him. the cause of death was a slit throat.
"if i hadn't seen him, i wouldn't have believed it" said laurie morris, who believed that yunho jeong would never do that. "you think you know someone, you invite them over for family meals, your children and grandchildren play with them, and then this happens?"
jeong is currently being held without bail and is scheduled to appear in court next week. the case has sparked conversations about mental health among the neighbours.
"it is baffling to me. yunho mowed our lawns, played with our children and taught them football, helped the elderly, brightened every room he was in. what causes a person like that to flip a switch? or was this his plan all along since moving in our neighbourhood? to fool us all and do something like that? was poor ethan the only one? what if there is more we don't know of?" says one mother whose children loved jeong and were babysat by him multiple times.
one thing is certain: this neighbourhood won't rest until they find out what caused a supposedly bright and happy man like yunho jeong to commit such a crime.
15/06/2015
further investigation on yunho jeong reveals chilling information
in a chilling, out-of-movie discovery, local authorities unearthed skeletal remains in the backyard of jeong yunho's residence. the remains have been identified, belonging to more than one person. investigators have also uncovered a dug up hole near the toolshed. they speculate the hole was meant for the deceased ethan morris.
"six out of seven remains we have found belong to registered sex offenders in the county." stated chief inspector san choi. "jeong wasn't killing without a reason. all the victims have criminal records, which leads to the next question: was ethan morris hiding something that the police failed to find, but jeong did?"
authorities urge anyone with relevant information to come forward, as the case threatens to unravel a sinister web of past crimes.
01/07/2015
case of gayoung jeong reopened
yunho jeong's mother, gayoung, was pronounced dead at the crime scene. hit by a drunk driver while crossing the road, the police didn't do much further investigation and concluded the case. recent news about her son yunho have caused investigators to reopen the case and find a trail that leads back to him.
yunho jeong is due for another interrogation.
10/07/2015
not yet behind the bars
further investigation regarding the murder of ethan morris, remains in the jeong residence backyard and a link to gayoung jeong has uncovered a twist; yunho jeong is undiagnosed and suffers from intermittent explosive disorder. it is revealed during interrogation that jeong does not possess memory of committing any crimes, and seems just as shocked when shown pictures of crime scenes.
so far, yunho jeong is to be met with a psychologist to establish his diagnosis.
21/07/2015
ethan morris, the child predator
laurie morris, the daughter of the deceased ethan morris, has uncovered a stash of various illegal pornography in the shop owned by her father. she has also uncovered phone hidden among the shelves in the stock room, full of suggestive messages exchanged with children in the neighbourhood. it seems that jeong knew something nobody else did.
does that justify his actions?
eyes ache from the small letters, and migraine sets in. you drop the newspaper on your desk, only to grab onto your head for support. the picture of yunho's mugshot looks at you from the table. and for a split second, you lose your mind. his eyes seem to glimmer, and the corners of his lips almost turn upwards, sending shivers down your spine.
with a single hand motion the papers are sent flying from the table and scatter all over the floor.
"a fucking hero." you mock before stepping on the picture with your heel and ripping the picture in the process. "egoistical cunt."
𝐘𝐎𝐔.
it is only your third time using the scanner for the entrance, yet the short sound it emits when the doors click open will start haunting you already. the heavy door is pushed open by the guard - a new addition to the system - and then closed after you enter.
yunho lays on the bed, both hands tied to the metal bed frame. he doesn't open his eyes. for a moment, you think he is sleeping. but you know better than that. even if he is, you won't allow him the satisfaction of feeling peace.
standing next to the bed and hovering above him, you drop the stack of the old newspaper full of articles about him on his head, jolting him awake. "wake up, stefano."
to your surprise, he doesn't react aggressively. instead, he sits up as much as the cuffs allow him, leaning against the cold wall behind him. the signature smirk is back on his lips as he looks at you. "the lamb is back in the wolf's den."
"how incredibly poetic." you sit on the chair next to the bed, this time at a safer distance. "couldn't have become a poet? chose to be a murderer and fraud instead?"
"i think you too can admit that this is way more fun." he snickers.
you aren't amused. at all. instead of giving him reason to continue, you cut him right off. "do you think you are a good person for what you did? a hero? a saviour the city needed?"
his expression darkens. brows furrowed, lips pressed in a thin line, and eyes dark due to dilated pupils. his whole body goes from relaxed to tense, aggressive. ready to attack. "you-"
"do you think you are unfairly locked in here?" you press further. you'll drive him crazy until he bursts.
"you don't know anything-"
"do you think you are better than everyone else? than the investigators? than us? dr park? dr burke? me?"
"shut up."
"is stefano someone you use when you are vulnerable but don't want people to know it's actually you? because if yunho shows an emotion other than anger he won't be feared?"
"last warning." he grits his teeth.
"did you kill gayoung?"
silence envelops the room. his expression is unreadable. the quick switch of emotions stuns you, and you don't seem to guess what comes next. you expected him to become more aggressive. to yank at the cuffs in an attempt to reach you. anything but this. sudden calm posture, relaxed expression. but the glint doesn't fade. then, he opens his mouth. his stupid fucking mouth.
"you need a cock."
"what?"
"you heard me." he simply shrugs. "when is the last time someone fucked you? properly? no wonder you're so tense."
"i am letting you know right now that you shall not speak to me that way." you are furious. how dare he?
was he right? perhaps. but that doesn't affect the quality of your work or your personality. then again, it's been so long. you have forgotten if you acted differently in the past. it doesn't matter, anyway. you won't give yunho the satisfaction.
"that's inappropriate. not to mention unprofessional and–"
"oh, dove." he coos. "i thought we were way past professional the moment i touched you in that hallway. or the moment you stepped in here and accused me of faking my illness."
no matter what you say, he has the counter spell. he's stubborn. stubborn, and fucking annoying. he knows how to get under your skin and he enjoys every second of it.
"do you touch yourself, doctor?"
"how was your relationship with your mother?" you ignore his question.
"all this anger and stress... you need to relax. maybe that's why you're so horrible at what you do." each word acts like a blow in a balloon, making you feel fuller and fuller until you threaten to burst. "if i was you, i'd touch myself all day. fuck, you're so pretty for someone i should hate."
how can a person degrade you and compliment you in a span of ten seconds? that is his talent, it seems. and judging by the amused grin on his face and his cocked eyebrow, your frustration is evident on your features. brows furrowed, teeth abusing the inside of your cheek, and fingers gripping your notebook.
"i'd put a mirror in front of me just to see myself."
"your inappropriate remarks won't distract me from the fact that you are nothing but a fraud who doesn't deserve any of our time."
"then why are you here?" his voice drops a few octaves. the vibrations of his low voice creep under your skin and run down your spine. "why are you wasting your time? why not go out there, tell them all that i am nothing but a liar, and that i should be behind bars? why are you still here?"
"i want to know what goes on in that fucked up head of yours. just because you have been wrongly diagnosed doesn't mean that you are healthy."
he sinks back into the bed, gaze fixed on the ceiling. "then, let's hear it. diagnose me, doc."
"i need to find out more about you. you need to help me so that-"
"i'm not going to help you paint me as a misunderstood soul who has wandered off the right path. i'm not going to help you with anything. i can only help you relax so that you can do your job better."
"jeong-"
"you start by putting two fingers in your mouth, and wet them nicely with that annoying tongue of yours..."
"you're crossing the line again."
"then you slide them down to your pretty panties. if you're wearing any. i wonder what kind you have. is it a string? is it pastels? maybe it's-"
"what happened to your father?"
"-grandma panties. definitely grandma panties."
"it's not grandma panties," you say before you think. and gods, do you have to fight the urge to put the pillow over his face to hide his satisfied grin. "mr jeong."
maybe it's time for a new approach. you need to bite back your pride and arrogance. jeong yunho is as stubborn as you, but right now, you refuse to be on his level.
"please."
if the room wasn't dead silent, except for the gentle clinking of the handcuffs against the metal bars, not even you would've heard yourself. and for a second, you hope he didn't hear it as well. you regret it as soon as you say it. but he hears it. he hears it well, that son of a bitch. "well. don't you sound pretty when begging?"
"this can work out for both of us." you offer.
"and how's that, little lamb?"
"being locked in here has surely affected your mind and healing. handcuffed, away from socializing, only discussing your mental health and treatment. if you cooperate, i have the power to get you out of here. i'll place you in a nice room, you'll have normal meals, you can even visit the cafeteria or go for a walk in the park."
"and what do you get in return?"
"i get to go home sooner. leave this shithole and never come back." you admit. "i didn't say there wouldn't be anything in it for me"
yunho thinks. he bites his lip when he does so, you notice. you don't take back what you thought back in the hallway. jeong yunho really is handsome. you'd be lying if you said you weren't disappointed that he turned out to be the patient and not your colleague. dr park is gorgeous in a different way. he is pretty; a gentle beauty. blonde hair, soft smile, eyes that turn into crescent moons as he laughs. yunho, on the other hand, is fierce beauty. with dark hair, and dark eyes, and a deep velvet voice. you hate that the first encounter with him has impacted you. he has ruined seonghwa for you. because of yunho, seonghwa isn't interesting. it shouldn't be this way. none of the two should be interesting. you are here to work, not create your own grey's anatomy.
"in return, all i ask from you is to speak."
"oh, well. why didn't you just say so?" he stands up again. "nobody ever thought to ask that. and here you are, making it so simple."
you sigh. mockery is unmistakable in his tone. "mr jeong..."
"no." his voice drops, and so does your stomach.
"what?"
"no. i won't make it easy for you. do your fucking job."
and just like that, he reminds you exactly what he is. a fucking pain in the ass.
"then do your fucking part." you quickly drop back to his level. "you want me out of here? out of your hair? then start talking."
the dark haired man clicks his tongue. "oh, no, no. like you said: this is merely an introduction. our journey is yet to start. you're too pretty to send away so soon."
he thinks he is so clever. hiding mockery under compliments. testing you. inviting you to attack first so he can have a reason to do it back. the clinking of the cuffs rings in your ears as yunho suddenly sits up straight. you flinch, further feeding his ego.
"uncuff me."
"absolutely not." you reply in disbelief.
"then no cooperation."
"you are not in the position to-"
"you are not a detective. you are a dumb little doctor who has come to show off to these peasants, who thought that i am no smarter than them, who thinks that she has all the power in the world. guess what, pretty? i dictate the rules here. i have you all wrapped around my finger. and there is no escaping it until you do as i say."
"hmph," you can't help the snort that leaves you. "pretty hard to have control around here when you can't even go to the toilet by yourself."
"you-"
"we'll try again tomorrow, mr jeong." you stand up with a sigh. "with a different approach on both ends."
"you think you're in the position to order me how to act?"
"and do you think you are in the position to piss me off when i am the key to your semi-freedom, if not even freedom?"
it shuts him up, for a second. until that foolish grin graces his lips once again. "you think it's freedom that i want?"
"and what could a man like you possibly want other than freedom?" you are intrigued. he doesn't allow you a moment to think about the answer yourself, because jeong yunho leaps across the bed and almost reaches you, were it not for the cuffs stopping with a heavy noise at the end of the bedframe.
he licks his lips, and lowers his eyebrows, dark eyes hiding beneath them and his hair. "you."
with a quick smash on the button beside the door, the guard opens it for you, and you escape with your back still turned towards the exit, gaze remaining on jeong yunho who doesn't move a muscle as he kneels at the end of the bed, eyes drilling holes through your own and making your head burn and body feel light with fear. just before the door shuts, you make out the words he mouths out to you.
"come back soon, little lamb."
𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇.
dr sloane burke is a very chatty woman. you don't like that. your only saviour is dr park seonghwa who sits between the two of you in the cafeteria and engages in the conversation for you.
yunho this, yunho that. you hate it. you tried to switch topics multiple times, but they all ended with yunho once again. were it not for seonghwa's gentle grip of your wrist and the delicious ceasar salad, you would've gone home by now.
"just a bit more," he had whispered, offering a soft smile. and how could you reject him?
that's how you're still sitting here, listening to dr burke go on about how yunho is the spawn of devil and how nobody can tame him. normally, you would be on her side. but she is starting to get on your nerves, and is subtly doubting your abilities.
"he's not an animal to tame." you stand on his side.
a gasp of disbelief, then a snort, leaves dr burke's mouth. "what, you feel sympathy for him?"
"how do you expect someone to act human when you don't treat them as such?" you simply reply, and you can almost feel her blood pressure rising through seonghwa. they hate it when you're calm. and you love it when they lose their cool. "frankly, dr burke, i am yet to ask about how you have approached this case. could you describe a session to me?"
"are you doubting my abilities? questioning my progress?"
"what progress?" you simply reply.
sloane is fuming. she is red in the face, and you shove the fork stacked with chicken and salad into your mouth before you can burst out laughing. seonghwa has to cover his mouth with his palm, and he fake coughs while masking a smile.
"what does that mean?"
"it means..." you take your time, slowly chewing the refreshing meal. it almost seems like she is shaking from anger. it hurts more because seonghwa is here, you know it. "...it is odd that you've worked with him for ages, yet he still isn't showing improvement. in fact, he is becoming worse. who is there to blame?"
"this is unacceptable. down talking in front of my colleague, in my own working place. how dare you?"
dr park decides it is time to end the most interesting conversation he has heard this year in this facility, no matter how much he doesn't want to. "while i truly admire both of your... love and dedication for this case, i'd rather spend my lunch not talking about work. is that a fair request?"
"certainly, dr park. i apologize." dr burke is quick to bat her lashes at the man, but not before glaring at you.
you don't apologize. there is nothing to apologize for, and thus, you finish the remaining salad, and pick up your tray. seonghwa stops mid bite, his own food resting on the fork in the air as his brown eyes follow your actions.
"enjoy your food." you greet as you stand up, tray secure in one hand and handbag in the other.
"leaving so soon?" disappointment is evident in his voice, and you love the satisfaction that washes over you as sloane bites the inside of her cheek. "i was about to offer dessert."
"that is very generous of you, dr park." you say, looking at the carefully arranged brownies in a clear container that sits on the table. "another time, maybe. i can feel my braincells dying with each second that passes in this... lovely environment."
before sloane can open her mouth, you smile at dr park, who still struggles to contain his laughter, and leave.
𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐍.
there is a ritual you perform every single evening before bed.
first, locking the front door. with your profession, it is important that you watch your safety. you never had any issues, and there is no reason to start having them now.
second, closing the windows and pulling the curtains over them. even a sliver of the yellow street lamps threw you off. the annoying indigo curtains won't stay shut, thus you have no other option than to staple them together. you'll pay them. maybe then they can afford proper curtains.
third, a glass of prosecco. cold, sharp, and bubbling with a kind of careless joy you don't allow yourself in daylight. it tastes of green apples and white flowers, a fleeting sweetness that vanishes almost as soon as it arrives. you sip it slowly, letting the fizz settle against your tongue, all while leaning against the kitchen counter as your gaze is fixed on the darkness that has swallowed the suite.
fourth, letting the water run in the bathtub while you arrange your bed. four pillows are neatly stacked at the headboard, and a pair of black silk pajamas neatly sit at the foot of the bed, waiting to be worn.
fifth, a hot bath. not warm, hot. such hot that has your skin red and burning, yet your muscles relaxing. a single pale green bath bomb, a matching face mask, and a second helping of prosecco, is all you've been waiting for all day. the bathroom smells of green apples, the mirror is fogged up, and the candles lit around the bathtub cast calming shadows on the walls. you are slowly boiling yourself into a stew, yet you've never felt more careless and relaxed.
sixth, once every single candle is extinguished, you slip into your sleepwear, then under the covers.
seventh, lulling yourself to sleep with counting. it usually takes one hundred and eleven for you to start feeling your body going limp.
yet three hundred and fifty later, you are wide awake. you open your eyes with a sigh. you are surprised to find a yellow hue on your wall. looking over, you find just what you expected: curtains not closed properly. you must've stapled them poorly. you didn't forget, that you know. you specifically remember glancing out the window, and seeing two of the staff having a smoke break before you closed it and stapled the cheap fabric together.
as you approach, you notice the stapler resting just where you left it on the dresser below the window. already irritated because you should've been asleep by now, your grip on the curtains isn't so gentle, causing your finger to slip through them.
you find it hard to believe your eyes once you take a proper look. not only is the window creaked open, but the fabric that was held together by staples is ripped. the staples uselessly lay on the dresser, and some of them still hang by a thread. as if someone has ripped them open by force.
the grip on the stapler intensifies, and for the first time ever, you feel unsafe. truly unsafe. scared to death, you gulp as quietly as you can. you find it in you to turn around, eyes frantically searching for an intruder. you don't know what to hope for. if there is nobody in your room, they could be anywhere. if there is, you have zero survival instincts.
in the middle of the summer, your body shivers. glimmering eyes stare at you from across the room, hidden under a hood.
"oh my god." is all you can mutter upon seeing the wicked grin. he doesn't move. he simply leans against your bedroom door, hands hidden in the pockets of his hoodie. you don't dare break eye contact, no matter how much you want to. you need to watch his every move. "show yourself."
a chuckle meets your ears upon hearing you stutter. "oh, dove."
"don't come closer." foolishly, you raise the stapler towards him. you startle yourself, pressing it too hard and causing a staple to jump out and hit the floor.
the low chuckle intensifies. "you're so precious it hurts."
"stay where you are." you still hold the gadget in the air, pointed at him. "i mean it."
"or what?" he pushes himself off the door, taking a small step towards you. "you'll staple me?"
heavy footsteps against the wooden parquet are taunting, each one echoing inside your head and reminding you that you are trapped. helpless. at the verge of death.
you lean against the dresser, the light summer breeze caressing your nape through the opened window. the man stops in the middle of the room, hands slowly abandoning the comfort of his pockets. you allow yourself to glance at his hands, and instantly, the air gets knocked out of your lungs. a sharp knife mimics the glimmer of the stapler, the handle stuck in his unmerciful grip.
"i'll give you ten seconds to run." he raises his hand, twirling the weapon between his slender fingers. "after that? i don't know. i could fuck you. i could kill you. let's leave space for imagination."
there is nowhere to go. nowhere to hide. the door is unreachable, and the window isn't an option. you'd die before he gets to you.
"yunho..." his name falls from your lips, shaky and pleading. "please."
he hums with satisfaction. "how i love when you beg. you're getting me used to it."
"please," you are ready to do whatever it takes to feed his ego and hopefully make him succumb.
"as much as i love it, time is running out, lamb." he tilts his head to the side, a habit of his whenever he mocks you. "ten."
you don't move just yet. he raises an eyebrow, confused as to why you aren't running to save yourself. then, he realizes.
"oh? am i in the way?" he points the knife at the door. then, he walks over to your bed, plopping on it and sinking in the pillows that now smell of your shampoo. "green apples. how did you know i love them?"
slowly, you take one step forward. yunho jolts, and you scream, pressing yourself back against the dresser. he only laughs, then lays back where he was.
"i promised ten, didn't i? it wouldn't really be fair if i broke a promise and took advantage of your state. though, i am doing you a favour. more than a second has passed, and i am so generously still stuck at ten."
you don't believe a single word out of his mouth. he could jump at you as soon as you turn your back to him. it seems to be his favourite thing to do.
"nine." he sinks deeper into the pillows, knife twirling lazily above his head as if this is all a game.
your legs refuse to move. the dresser digs into your back, the wood biting into your spine.
"eight." his voice is calm, almost bored. "you're wasting precious seconds, lamb. i'd run, if i were you."
your throat burns. you can't tell if it's from the plea you swallowed or the scream you're holding back.
"seven." he inhales, slow and deliberate, nose buried in your pillow. "apples and fear. intoxicating."
your body jolts forward before your mind catches up. bare feet slap against the parquet, carrying you toward the kitchen and living room.
"six." his laugh follows, low and delighted. "that's it. run for me."
if you were in a better state, you would've remembered to lock the door of the bedroom, earning yourself more time to run. instead, you frantically search for your shoes, which are nowhere to be found. you could've sworn you took them off by the sofa before you plopped on it after work. sensing that the countdown is coming to an end, you run down the hallway, struggling to keep your footsteps steady.
your lungs burn as you sprint down the darkness, the hallway feeling as if it is expanding and has no end. then, the door finally comes in sight. salvation. trembling fingers stretch for the handle, slick with sweat, nails scraping the metal.
and then — another hand. larger, steadier, landing on the same handle at the exact second as yours.
you freeze. the cold press of his skin against your knuckles is worse than the knife pressed against your neck.
yunho leans in, his breath brushing your ear, voice low and amused. "synchronized. how romantic."
body screams to fight. yet you stand still, letting yunho pick you up with ease and draping you over his shoulder as he walks back into your room. the fall on the bed is anything but gentle, the mattress causing you to bounce a few times before it engulfs you in the layers of covers and pillows.
through blurry eyes, you make out yunho dropping the knife on the nightstand. his hands reach for the hem of his hoodie, pulling it over his head and letting it fall on the ground. "want to take a guess now?"
tears prickle at your eyes as you bring your legs close to your chest, crossing your ankles in hopes of protecting yourself. you shake your head, answering his question, and begging him to stop at the same time. "please."
"oh, you'll do your begging."
he dives into the bed, half naked body hovering over you as his fingers snake up your neck and press into the sides of it. the yellow hue illuminates his bare face properly, as well as his nude torso. you hate that you are attracted to it. you hate that the first encounter with him has left such an impression on you, it seems that no matter what he does, you keep feeling that tingling sensation in your stomach.
he has ruined you without even trying.
his fingers linger at your throat, not squeezing, just resting there as a reminder of how easily he could. his eyes search your face, and the smirk that curls his lips tells you he's found what he wanted.
"there it is," he murmurs, almost tender. "that look. you don't know if you want to run from me or crawl closer."
your breath hitches, and you hate yourself for it. hate the warmth that coils low in your stomach, the same warmth that sparked the first time you saw him. before you knew what he was.
"don't flatter yourself," you manage, though your voice cracks.
yunho laughs softly, leaning closer until his hair brushes your cheek. "i don't need to. your body does it for me."
you squeeze your eyes shut, nails digging into your palms, trying to will the attraction away. his presence is overwhelming. the scent of your own shampoo clinging to his skin, the heat radiating from him, the way he makes the air itself feel charged.
"you'll figure it out soon enough," he says, pulling back just enough to let you breathe, though his hand never leaves your throat. "whether you hate me more... or want me more."
little by little, he is proving you right. on the brink of life or death, you've never been more flustered and wet. you've never been more turned on by a man. you've never lost your mind. until now, when you subconsciously press your thighs together when his hot breath hits your lips.
he notices, and that evil, murderous smirk comes back to life. "i knew it."
you want to deny it, to spit in his face, to remind him he's nothing but a deranged patient, a liar, a murderer. but the words knot in your throat, tangled with the heat he's already coaxed out of you.
"don't look so ashamed," he says, tilting his head to the side, studying you like a puzzle he's already solved. "fear and want... they taste the same to me."
your pulse hammers against his hand at your throat, and you hate that he can feel it. hate that he knows your body better than you know it.
"you'll keep telling yourself you despise me," he whispers, leaning close enough that his hair brushes your cheek again, "but every time you come back, i'll be waiting to prove you wrong."
slowly, he sinks his head between your shoulder and neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin before biting into it. before your hands can fly to his hair to try and pull, his other hand catches them by their wrists, pinning them against the bed above your head. the pain is delicious, and the soft lips that kiss the bruised area sweet.
"fuck," he breathes out. "you even taste like apples."
"how did you escape?" you dare ask, and as soon as you do, you regret it.
the mischievous smile is gone, replaced by a serious look. "why do you have to spoil the fun?"
"i-"
"i didn't escape. i came to visit, just like you visit me." he softens the grip on your throat, thumb caressing your jawline as he admires your features. "it wouldn't be fair if i didn't return the favour, right?"
you don't reply.
"you lock your doors, staple your curtains, pour your wine," he murmurs, eyes fixed on yours. "and still, here i am. doesn't that tell you something?"
you swallow hard, throat dry. "that you're insane."
he laughs, low and sharp, the sound vibrating against your skin. "no, lamb. it tells you that you belong to me, whether you admit it or not."
his thumb lingers along your jaw, tracing the line of your cheek as if he's memorizing it. the knife is forgotten on the nightstand, but his presence is sharper than steel.
"you visit me in daylight, while i'm chained up, with guards and condescending looks," he murmurs, eyes locked on yours. "and now i visit you in the dark, with none of those things between us. balance, don't you think?"
your lips part, but no sound comes out. you want to tell him he's wrong, that this isn't balance, it's violation. but the words dissolve under the weight of his intense gaze. he could crush you if he wanted to.
"you're trembling, doctor. is it fear? or is it something sweeter?"
your body betrays you again. the shiver that runs down your spine, the way your breath hitches when his thumb brushes the corner of your mouth. your lips part on their own, and you hate how satisfied he looks.
he smiles, slow and knowing. "i don't need chains to keep you. you'll come back to me on your own."
the man slips his thumb past your lips, letting it rest on your tongue. his brows furrow when he feels the hotness and wetness of your muscle, twitching under his touch. he knows you're holding back. he knows you want nothing more than to swirl it around his finger. yet he also knows that you are smart and strong. you don't allow yourself such a moment of weakness. you've sunken deep enough as it is, by your own will. still, yunho can't help but further toy with you.
with his knee, he forces your legs to spread. he is stronger than you, and resisting him means losing energy. thus, you obey, spreading your legs and allowing him to press his knee against your clothed core. you gasp at the contact, the feeling of fabric and the hardness of his body against your sensitive core overwhelming already.
"you poor thing." he coos. "i was right. you need a cock."
he frees you from his grip, hands working on the belt of his pants. he plays with it in his hands as he studies your face, before bringing the leather to your lips.
"open up."
you do as told, parting your lips and letting him place the belt between your teeth for you to bite into.
"good girl."
the words shoot straight to your core, earning a squirm from you and a hum from yunho.
"you like that, don't you?" he taunts. "you probably didn't even know it gets you going. has nobody ever praised you, dove?"
you shake your head. no man ever, and you mean ever, has praised you. it was all degrading words, rough hands and no emotion other than harshness. you thought something is wrong with you for not enjoying it, not even thinking that you might be into something else. but how could you, when nobody tried anything else?
"you don't belong there, doctor." his voice becomes a mere whisper. "you're too pretty. too smart. too perfect for them."
compliments laced with something that you can't name yet catch you off guard. the belt slips from your lips with a gentle clink. "what?"
"and park seonghwa? he doesn't deserve a single look from you. you're too intelligent for him."
his knee rubs against you, extracting a whine from your throat. you are getting desperate with each second that passes. instead of hating yourself for wanting it, you are starting to hate him for not giving it.
"they thought you could break me," his lips graze your tear stained cheek as he speaks. "but i'll be the one breaking you."
you audibly shudder when his lips trail down your bruised neck, the tip of his nose following and trailing down your clothed body, until they reach the burning core between your spread legs. he buries his face into it, his nose bumping into the aching clit as he lets out a low groan.
"fuck," he breathes out. "may i?"
all the things that have happened up until this point didn't shock you as much as that question did. you look down at him, surprise evident on your features. he raises his head to look at you as well, danger and hunger a storm in his eyes.
"i may be deranged, angel," he murmurs, prying your knees further apart with ease. "but i still have manners. so, may i? pretty please?"
"i-" you are at loss for words. odd how the crazy man has more manners than an ordinary man. "i don't know."
"you don't know," he repeats softly, almost amused. "that's the most honest thing you've said to me yet."
even though you haven't answered yet, he doesn't move on his own. he waits, patiently, savouring your every expression. you're thinking hard, he knows it. you want it, but you don't want him to know. so he makes it easy for you to give in without humiliating yourself.
"if i said... that i won't leave until you scream my name, will it make your decision easier?"
your teeth sink into your bottom lip, still unsure.
"and if i said that i'd take such good care of you, that nobody will ever come close to my standards?"
his gaze softens, though the storm beneath it never fades.
"you've been starved of gentleness your whole life, angel," he murmurs, thumb stroking along your thigh as if he's offering salvation. "let me feed you."
you are beginning to think you are the insane one. you're dripping, and he hasn't even touched you properly. his words alone did this to you.
"i promise you, i'll ruin you with courtesy." his voice drops an octave. "and you'll thank me for it."
"please." the word comes out as a whisper from you, yet to yunho, it is louder than anything in this world at the moment. you almost whine with desperation when he doesn't bury his head back into you, but instead hovers over you again. the clanking of the knife on the nightstand makes you lay still. fuck, what did you get yourself into? "yunho...?"
instead of answering, he simply places himself in between your legs once again, carefully peeling your bottoms and panties off you and letting them fall to the ground. he takes his sweet time in admiring your glistening core, as if trying to burn the image into his head. his hot breath hits you again, this time on your bare skin, before you feel it.
his hot tongue, laying flat on your clit and folds, licking generously as he savours the first taste of you. your fingers fly to his hair, gripping it desperately, while your hips already twitch, unhappy with his slow pace. he places one hand on the bottom of your stomach, keeping your body pressed against the mattress and preventing you from squirming.
he hums against you, plush lips capturing your clit between them and gently sucking as the tip of his tongue teases the tip of your clit. tears stream down your cheeks once again, fear and yearning fighting inside you and tearing you apart. soon enough, you fall apart on his tongue, gasps filling the air and body twitching with pleasure.
"stop," you breathe out, overstimulated. he doesn't, instead burying his tongue into your hole and his nose into your abused clit. "please, please, please-"
he pulls away for a second, being merciful enough to let you have a moment to collect yourself. when you glance down at him, you almost faint. his lips glisten with your essence, and his hair is ruined because of your grip. you hate to say it, but park seonghwa has nothing on him.
"one more, doctor." his voice is raspy as he demands. "give me one more, and i'll leave you alone."
"i can't-" you gasp mid sentence, feeling a sudden cold intrusion between your walls. "what-?"
"just one more." he encourages, pushing further. it slides in with ease, squelching sounds filling the room as it starts moving at a slow pace. "you can take it like the good girl you are."
it takes you a moment to realize that it isn't his fingers, nor his cock. it is the handle of the knife, buried in you and moving at a steady pace with his help. pleasure takes over shock, and although unsure, you soon allow yourself to lay back and completely give yourself to him. his lips are back on your clit, inching you closer to the second release, and ridding your body of any emotion other than pure stimulation and pleasure. the handle hits the spongy spot inside you, over and over, until you burst against his lips once again, this time with a sweet cry of his name, just like he promised.
"say it louder." he pulls away just enough to growl, then returns to devouring you.
"yu- yu-," you choke out, fingers gripping his hair and thighs clenching around his head as he overstimulates you. "yunho!"
"yuyu? i'm liking that." he pulls away for good with a hum, helping you ride your release with slow pumps of the knife. once you get down your high, he removes it, and wastes no time before climbing back on the bed so that he hovers above you. "look at this."
he holds the knife by the blade, blood dripping down his hand as he holds it up for you to see.
"and it's all for me." the handle glistens under the street lights that peek through the ripped curtain. "say it, princess."
"it's all for you." you repeat it, eyes fixed on the item yunho brings over to your lips.
"taste yourself on my knife." he begs, breathless. "give me reason to wake up in the morning."
and fuck, it's the hottest thing you've ever witnessed. you taste yourself on the handle of the item you almost died of, tongue carefully cleaning it just as he asked. you can't help the moan that catches in your throat when yunho joins you, his own tongue tasting you all over again but from a different source.
you swear you'll go crazy if this doesn't stop soon. he has you hooked onto him, and you let it happen. you yearn for more. you try slipping your tongue past the knife and reach for him, yet he backs off, pressing the bloody blade against your neck.
"nu-uh." he warns. "not yet, pretty."
hot liquid drips on your skin as your breath catches. "okay."
"so obedient for me." he presses his lips to your forehead. "that's how i like you."
as soon as he abandons the bed, shivers enter your body, causing you to sink below the covers as you watch him get dressed. he picks your bottoms off the floor, not without shoving the panties in his pocket, then skillfully puts them on you without looking under the covers. he tucks you in, fluffing the pillows around you and pushing the hair out of your face. lastly, his fingers snake up your neck again, but not to choke, but to hold while his tongue leaves a wet stripe on your skin, licking his own blood off you.
"good night, little lamb."
the silence he leaves behind is unbearable. you lie there, trembling under the covers, staring at the door as if he might walk back through it at any second.
soon, you'll return to the serenity haven. clipboard in hand, guards at your side. and you'll wonder whether he will be there, shackled and calm, as if tonight never happened? or will his chair sit empty, proof that the walls can't hold him? and if it sits empty, will anyone believe you?
𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃.
in the morning summer heat, you decide to walk.
to clear your head. why? something is wrong with you.
you woke up drenched in sweat, covered in bruises, and with a shallow breath. throat feels like sandpaper with each gulp of saliva, and it's making your eyes tear up from pain. you had hoped it was a nightmare. running to the window was the first thing you did upon opening your eyes. shaky hands touch the curtains, eyes wide with disbelief. they are stapled, fabric in tact.
yet, when your hand lands on your pounding heart and feels the bra, then slides down to your bottoms as if remembering, you don't feel the outline of panties. there is none to feel. you remember why. he took them off you, and he never put them back on. they have disappeared, it seems. they aren't on the bed, and not in the laundry basket, nor the floor.
upon searching through the bathroom, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. bruises littered down the sides of your neck, no wonder it hurts. everything else is just as you left it. hell, even the shoes next to the sofa. you could've sworn they weren't there last night.
he is playing with your mind. whether or not he was truly in here, he has gotten to you in ways nobody else ever has. at this point, you hope it wasn't a dream or a hallucination, because if true, it means that you have underestimated him. you've only seen him a few times, and he is in your head. you can't let him have the upper hand without even doing anything.
"someone call the guards, there is an impostor."
somebody's tray bumps into your back as you linger by the juicer, the glass filled long ago and waiting to be picked up. you turn around slowly, recognising the voice. "dr park."
"is everything okay? you're moving very odd for... well, you." the blonde haired man takes the glass of orange juice and places it on his tray. he then points at the various pastry choice. "would you like to eat anything? i'll bring it for you."
"i..." you trail, looking at the food and feeling nothing but nausea. "i'm fine, thank you."
with that, you take the glass from his tray and make your way to a table you've decided belongs to you. seonghwa joins soon, tray full of food and drinks. the smell of coffee overshadows the freshly squeezed orange, and you have to try your best to stay politely seated and not flip his tray and leave. it's not his fault you're feeling out of place.
you stir the orange juice with your straw, watching the pulp drift like debris. a plate slides on the table and comes into your vision frame. a piece of bread, a small packet of butter and one of honey, and something else. something that makes your thighs clench, and your mouth water.
"i don't know if you've ever tried that combo, but if not, do it for me. trust me."
you don't respond. not because you don't like the idea, but because the glimmer of the jam knife taunts you. you can almost feel slender fingers around your neck, delicately pressing the sides of it. you feel the blade on your skin, and to make things worse, you feel your core heating.
fuck.
"i have to go." you blurt out.
"what?" seonghwa asks, mouth full of waffles. "already?"
"i- yes. i'll see you, dr park." you leave the tray, and almost push away the plate dr park has kindly offered you.
in no time, you storm out of the cafeteria and down the hallways. you need to know. you need to know whether or not yunho was truly in your suite last night, or maybe the summer heat paired with a glass of alcohol had you lose your mind for a moment. after all, there are no traces of him anywhere but on you.
the guard greets you, no different than usual. the pad beeps, and the door clicks open. the guard pushes it open for you, then closes it. eyes search the room for a pair of dark brown ones. they are nowhere to be found. the bed is made, and the armchair cold under your fingertips as you touch the fabric of it. the guard could've at least told you that dr burke has taken him.
"oh, hello."
you flinch, abruptly turning around and falling into the armchair. yunho stands before you, a smile on his lips.
"i don't think we've met before." his voice is softer, and the smile seems genuine. it makes you still in your seat. "did i scare you? i'm so sorry, doctor."
he offers you a hand. an unshackled hand. you don't take it. instead, you stand up on your own, and go around him and approach the door. you aren't leaving yet, but it's better to be safe than sorry. "good morning, mr jeong."
"good morning, doctor...?" he squints his eyes, reading the letters from the small name plate on your uniform. "doctor y/n l/n. a beautiful name."
"mr jeong, please take a seat." you don't acknowledge the odd compliment.
although he takes a moment, he listens and sits on the bed, hands in his lap and feet fidgeting on the ground. his eyes linger on your name plate, almost curiously. it is like he has never learned it before.
"how are you feeling today?" you cautiously take a seat in the armchair again, legs crossed in a somewhat defensive way. as if it'll keep him away from you. "how did you... sleep?"
"i slept well, thank you for asking." he responds. "what about you? it was a rather hot night, don't you think? the hottest one this summer."
his words sound harmless, sincere. his eyes don't seem to hide any mischievous glint. to anyone that does not partake in the conversation, it would seem simple small talk. but it eats you inside out, not knowing if he knows. not knowing the difference between reality and imagination.
it's not imagination, you wouldn't call it that. a fever dream, rather. you didn't imagine him willingly. did you?
"i guess it was." you respond. "you're... unshackled. you behaved well."
"i'm always a good boy." his lips curve, and the smile reaches his eyes. then, as if remembering something gruesome and traumatic, his whole expression drops. "it is yunho who is not a good boy. not me."
you clutch the pen in your hand, then clear your throat before speaking. "sorry?"
"i'm a good boy. always have been. the best, my mum always says." he drops his gaze, eyes fixed on his hands. yours drops as well, and you notice his red fingertips. the skin around his nails is plucked, and he proceeds to worsen the situation by plucking it further. "sometimes, she gets confused. she thinks i'm yunho, and i get punished. but i am always so good, how could she think i am him?"
"mr jeong-"
"even now, i get punished for him. i have to sit here, while he gets to roam freely. he said he would visit you, yet he wouldn't even let me meet you." his words are fast, scrambled, and shaky. the plucking of skin intensifies, blood seeping through tiny wounds and getting under his fingernails. "he gets to meet all new people, and i have to sit in the bushes and wait for him to call, then be his substitute. i'm tired of it."
before you can react, his wide eyes find yours in pure terror. he stands up, hands grabbing your shoulders and shaking you.
"help me." he breathes out. "please, help me."
the white shirt you are wearing absorbs the blood from his fingers as his grip intensifies. the clipboard and pen drop from your hands as you try pushing him off you. he doesn't budge, instead dropping to his knees by his own will and laying his head on your lap.
"please, free me." he sobs. "i can't live this life anymore, y/n. i want to be me, not him. i want my own life. i don't want to pay for his crimes."
liquid stains your pants, and you don't think anymore. you simply lay your hands on his shoulders, rubbing them gently as a way to comfort him. he calms under your touch, though you can still hear faint sniffles. his slender fingers dig into your thighs, afraid of letting go.
you try to rip them away, to allow both of you to have some space. yet he raises his head, face flushed and covered in tears as he pleads. "don't push me away. not like dr burke."
"i- i'm not pushing you away, mr jeong." you reason. "i don't want you to catch a cold on these tiles. why don't you sit on the bed, and you can tell me everything."
his brows furrow, and he grits his teeth. your heart pounds against your chest, feeling vulnerable once again. he stands up, walking over to the wall, and bangs his head on it. "i don't want to talk anymore."
"mr jeong," you stand up as well, each thud of his head against concrete a shot to your chest. "mr jeong, please."
"everyone treats me like i'm a child." he sobs again. "nobody takes me seriously. nobody helps!"
"i will help you!" you raise your voice, hoping it will get to him. it doesn't, as he continues his painful actions. "i promise, i'll help you."
"liar." he mutters. "that's what everyone says. dr burke said she'd help. dr park said he'd help. and now you. why should i believe you?"
you steady your voice, though your throat feels raw. "then help me understand. when you say you're the good boy... what did you do yesterday to prove it?"
his brows knit, fingers twitching. "i stayed in this room. i didn't leave. i never leave."
you nod slowly, pen scratching against the clipboard you have retrieved from the floor. notes litter the white paper, the cursive writing not as neat as it usually is. it is shaky, and rushed. you glance at him, not letting your guard down for a second. his head doesn't bang against the wall so harshly anymore. rather, it becomes rhythmic, and softer, like a ritual. he is mumbling as tears trail down his neck and dampen his shirt.
"nobody believes." he whimpers. "nobody ever believes."
"stefano," the name feels foreign on your tongue. yet it is the only thing that makes him stop and slowly turn around, eyes lit with hope again. too quick, too bright. like he'd been waiting for you to say it. thus, you carefully continue. "i hear you. but right now, i need you to stop hurting yourself. let's sit down together."
he wipes his cheeks with trembling hands, smearing blood across his skin. "you believe me?"
you keep your tone even, though your chest tightens. "i believe you want me to understand. so help me. how does this exchange happen? how does he free himself and lock you in here instead?"
instead of the bed, he opts to sit on the floor, back pressed against the cold metal frame. "twice a week, tuesdays and fridays, he makes me sleep in the bushes below that window."
he points at it, the window that can only be opened an inch for fresh air. it isn't designed to be fully opened, and your confusion grows as he continues.
"dr park works night shifts on those days, and he doesn't like yunho. he avoids this part of the institute like the plague, and so yunho gets the freedom he wants. he can open the window, he knows how. he makes me wear his clothes, lay in his bed, and act as if i am the one carrying his name."
you gulp, slowly. the pen shakes in your hand, and you pray he doesn't see it. you pray he doesn't see the way the colour drains from your face, or the way teeth chew the inside of your cheek. if he does, and this is all a ruse, he has won. he will destroy you, and you won't be able to escape this time.
a personality disorder, or a deranged liar, you are in the presence of danger. you cannot forget that.
"and... what does yunho do every tuesday and friday?"
"he hunts."
"hunts...?" you trail, scribbling on the paper.
"yes."
"what does he hunt?"
"people like you."
blood runs cold in your veins. it doesn't have to mean anything, you tell yourself. yet the way the man looks at you makes you question everything you've done or said so far. he is dead serious. his lips don't twitch, and he doesn't blink. this is the only time you wished to see that evil smirk on his face. as funny as it sounds, it would make you feel better.
"people like me?" you repeat. "what does that mean?"
"people who meddle in his transaction between the two of us. people who want to cure him. people who want to separate us and take away his freedom." he explains.
"i've offered him freedom." you remember. "he didn't take it."
"freedom under his own conditions." he explains. "i myself wouldn't believe you, i doubt he did."
right. your pen hovers above the paper, ink pooling at the tip. "and when he hunts... what happens to the people he finds?"
his gaze fixes on your name tag, unblinking. "they stop meddling."
"how?" you press, softer now, almost whispering. his lips curl, not into a smile, but something worse. a knowing stillness.
"you'll see."
you remember the articles, the interviews. the fact that you are dealing with a serial killer with a disorder you are yet to properly diagnose. thoughts wander, and soon you find yourself wondering if he is somewhere digging your grave. planting a bush of flowers to mark it, playing gardener in the deep woods. the thought alone sends chills down your spine, causing the man in front of you to curiously tilt his head to the side. just like yunho does.
"i'm sorry, doctor. i didn't mean to scare you." his tone is laced with sympathy. "it's just... better safe than sorry."
"and when will yunho be back? when does he usually get back?"
"he's waiting for you to leave." he stands up, then plops on the bed. "he won't come back while you are here."
"so..." you write down a few more notes, the cursive letters turning into capital ones. "he knows i'm here? odd. we don't have a fixed schedule."
"he knows." he stares at the ceiling as his fingers go back to plucking the skin around his nails. "he always knows everything."
"that seems rather exaggerating." you admit. "he can't always know everything if he isn't even here."
stefano stops his fidgeting, and slowly turns his head to the side so that he can look at you. "it's just that... he is here. he is everywhere."
he doesn't blink. you don't breathe. the weight of his stare is torturing, and it makes you finally decide you've had enough for today. you might even need a short break. with clipboard and pen in hand, you stand up. "we will continue this, mr jeong. tomorrow."
"you're... leaving? already?" he sits up straight, and hands twitch in an attempt to grab you. he manages to control it, you notice out of the corner of your eyes. "we just started."
"i am feeling rather unwell. as you said, it was a very hot night."
"right." he confirms, nodding his head as he watches you approach the door. "tomorrow then, when yunho comes back. maybe i'll see you tuesday night, or wednesday morning again."
your hand stills on the handle of the door as your thoughts struggle to keep up. you can't leave just like this. so cowardly, and foolishly. the clipboard is stuck in a death grip as you bite the inside of your cheek before speaking.
"doctor?" the man calls before words leave your mouth, wondering why you're lingering by the door.
"yes?"
"is everything alright?"
"yes, everything is alright. i will see you tomorrow," you gather the little courage you have left, straighten your back, and turn around to face him. despite his worried expression, you decide to look straight through it, and take the upper hand again. "yunho."
he doesn't flinch. doesn't stand, or toss. he simply smiles, and it isn't genuine and sweet anymore. it is that evil, soul crushing and mind consuming smirk, paired with that glimmer in his dark eyes. "clever girl. you didn't fall for it."
"i wasn't called here for no reason." you aren't afraid anymore. he won't hurt you. not yet, at least. it is known that predators like to toy with their preys a little before they hurt them. you still have time. "i'll crush you, one way or another."
"how can you crush me, when you don't even know if i was there last night or not?" he leans against the bedrest, tongue running over his bottom lip as he devours you with his gaze.
"and how would you know about it, if you weren't there?" you respond quickly, back pressed firmly against the door.
"as stefano said, i know everything." he stands up, slowly but deliberately. he doesn't stop until you have to raise your chin to look at him, and his hot breath caresses your face. his hand snakes up your neck, landing on fresh bruises he has marked you with. he hums, thumb brushing over them. "i know you, y/n."
"you don't know anything, yunho." you don't mean for your voice to come out so pathetic and quiet. it makes him smirk, and squeeze your neck lightly. a whimper escapes your lips. just when you think he is done, he slips past your face, lips landing on your ear shell.
"i know you like to play god. you like to think you're the mastermind, the invincible, the saviour." lips brush against the sensitive skin of your ear as he speaks, and his hair caresses your cheek. "instead, you're nothing but a cock starved bitch."
before your hands can land on his chest to push him away, he rips the clipboard out of them and tosses it on the floor, then pins your wrists above your head.
"but i can give it to you, doctor." his lips trail to your jawline, ghosting over the line that follows the spot under your ear. "i see how touch starved you are. how unloved you are. i cannot give you love, but i can give you affection. appreciation. something you've never had."
"yunho, let me go."
"i'd treat you so well, if you'd let me. you say i don't know you. yet i know your own parents don't like you. i know park seonghwa only sees your body. but i see you." he pulls away just to look at you. his pupils are wide, making his eyes darker. "i had you seeing heaven and hell in my hands. i can do that any time you want. i could worship you, i could ruin you. i could do whatever you ask of me. just say the words."
"you are deranged." you reply to his offer.
he doesn't seem offended. instead, he breathes out, and leans his forehead against yours. "fuck, talk dirty to me."
"you're insane." you scoff.
"yes, just like that." his eyes flutter shut, and his hand slips from your neck and trails down your body, until it finds a place on your waist. "say more. more, doctor, more. please."
"are you serious?" you try pushing him away once more, this time with your body, but yunho leans his whole body against yours, trapping you between one cold and one hot side. "let me go, you- you- you fucking lunatic!"
he groans, and not a painful kind of groan. the kind he let out when he buried his nose between your legs last night. and fuck, you wish to bang your own head against the wall now for feeling the way you do. flustered, hot, and yearning.
"i can smell the desire off you, dove. it's intoxicating."
"yunho," you opt for begging. "please."
"there we go." he smiles to himself. "that's where i want you, pretty girl. begging for me, whining my name. i'd give you the world right now."
"give me space for now, please." a single tear trails down your cheek. not from fear, and not from sadness. from frustration, because he won once again. he has you wanting him, when all you wanted was to be a step ahead of him. "you can give me the world another day."
"your body is telling me otherwise. tell me, how many times did you think of last night?" he squeezes your waist, enough to worsen your burning feelings. "you can say it was good. i won't judge you. it is only natural."
he seems genuine. enough to make you succumb, body going limp in his hold as his lips press against the skin between your neck and shoulder. his tongue is hot against you, causing you to let out a shaky breath of desperation. it feels dangerous, as if his calculated and tender kisses will escalate any moment now. if you had any suspicion and indecision in your body left, he erases it once he grabs you by the back of your head and brings you close to him. eyes flutter shut, and noses brush against each other. he hums against your lips, not yet closing the gap.
"you're shaking." he murmurs, voice low, almost reverent.
you are. not from fear. not from him. but from the unbearable tension of wanting him gone and wanting him closer in the same breath.
he studies your face like he’s memorizing it; the tear on your cheek, the tremor in your jaw, the way your eyes refuse to look away from his. then he does something worse than touching you further.
he steps back. just one step. enough to make the air between you feel like a wound.
your body leans forward before you can stop it. a tiny, involuntary movement, but he sees it. of course he sees it. his smile is slow, devastating.
"there it is," he whispers. "the truth."
you swallow hard. "what truth?"
"that you don’t want distance," he says softly. "you want control. and you hate that I take it from you."
your pulse stutters. he lifts his hand, not to grab you, not to pin you, but to brush a single knuckle along your cheekbone. the gentleness is worse than any threat.
"tell me to leave," he says. "tell me to walk away from you."
you open your mouth. nothing comes out. his eyes darken, triumphant and tender all at once. he leans in again. not touching, just hovering, letting the tension choke the room. foolishly, you reach for him, want prevailing over morals, and you close the distance between the two of you. he has left you starved of his lips, made it seem like forbidden fruit. right now, they are inviting as ever, a deep red shade and plump. ready for you to bite into, and die of poison if needed.
"why," your voice is a mere whisper as you hold him against you, arms wrapped around his neck in an attempt to keep him close. you swallow, rethinking your choices up until now. "why wouldn't you kiss me last night?"
he smiles. not as a mocking, but somewhat fondly. "does it bother you?"
"yes." you admit. there is no point in lying. you need to be truthful in order to find out. "why, yunho?"
"you came here ready to tear me apart." yunho avoids your question. "but the moment i touched you, you forgot why you walked in."
your breath catches. because he’s right, and because he shouldn’t be. his hand brushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear. the gesture is gentle, almost intimate, and it terrifies you more than anything else he’s done.
"you think I want to break you," he says softly. "but i don’t. not in the way you think, at least. i want to understand you."
you swallow hard. "why?"
"because you’re the only person in this place who looks at me like I’m human, despite everything i've done and everything you've heard about me." he whispers. "and the only one who makes me feel like I’m not."
"yunho..." you try to steady your voice, but it comes out thin.
he steps back half a pace, giving you space, but not distance. the air between you feels charged, stretched thin.
"tell me to stop," he says. "really tell me."
you open your mouth. and nothing comes out. yunho’s smile is slow, devastating. you don't tell him to stop. instead, you wait for him to lean closer, letting his eyes shut and forehead rest against yours. his breathing is steady and calming, while yours is fast and shallow.
"see?" he whispers. "you want this."
and then, finally. he closes the distance.
the kiss is soft. devastatingly soft. not hungry, not forceful, but careful, like he’s afraid you’ll break if he presses too hard. it’s the tenderness that undoes you, not the contact. your fingers curl into his hair without meaning to, pulling him closer. he exhales against your mouth, a sound that feels like surrender and victory tangled together. his lips are as soft as a cloud, and his tongue burns hot against yours. it feels as if he is taking your soul through this kiss. and you're letting him. you cannot help the whine that escapes you when he pulls away.
"there you are," he murmurs, eyes dark and warm all at once. "the part of you you keep trying to kill."
you can’t speak. you can barely breathe.
"don’t worry," he says softly. "i’ll keep her alive."
a moment passes, allowing you to regain a bit of sanity you have left. enough to take a proper look at his swollen lips that glisten with your trace.
"do you know why i didn’t kiss you last night?" he asks quietly, yet doesn't wait for an answer. "because you wanted it, and i wasn’t ready for that."
you blink, thrown. "what does that mean?"
"it means," he murmurs, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth, "that everything else between us was... inevitable. but a kiss?"
his voice softens, darkens.
"a kiss is a choice."
your heart thuds against your ribcage, and you know he can feel it.
"i didn’t want your first choice with me to be made out of adrenaline," he continues. "or fear. or confusion. i wanted you to want it when you were thinking clearly."
you swallow. "and now?"
"now," he whispers, breath mingling with yours as he leans in again. "you’re thinking. you’re fighting yourself. you’re terrified of wanting me. and you still reached for me."
your fingers tighten in his hair, playing with the soft messy strands as you process his words.
"that’s why i kissed you," he says. "because this time... you chose it."
your chest aches. you hate how much it aches.
"and if i choose it again?" you whisper.
"then," he says, voice barely steady, "i’ll meet you halfway every time."
the man presses his forehead to yours again, but this time it’s different. not a challenge, not a trap.
a connection. a confession in silence.
"just say it," he murmurs. "say you want me close."
you don’t answer with words. you tilt your head, closing the distance by a breath. an invitation, not a surrender. yunho inhales sharply, eyes fluttering shut once again.
"god," he whispers, "you’re going to ruin me."
the second kiss is the opposite of the first one. it is hungry, and leaves you yearning for more each time he pulls away to catch a breath. the cuffs clink against the metal frame, rhythmically, and usually it is not one of your favourite sounds. right now, it manages to add to the odd atmosphere you have created.
"uncuff me." he asks. "please."
you admire yourself for finding the small key in your pocket as you continue kissing him, hand reaching to his wrist and freeing him. finally, yunho properly holds you. he grabs you by your thighs, picking your body up so that you wrap your legs around him, and carries you to the bed. he pulls away, and the cuffs are soon in his hands. a flash of terror washes over your face. yunho notices. immediately, he presses another kiss to your lips, all while his hands grab yours by the wrists and guide them above your head. the cold metal clicks around them, and fuck, this time fear prevails.
"yunho?" you ask, eyes fixed on your restrained hands on the metal frame. "what- what are you doing?"
"for your sake. i don't want your overthinking to spoil the fun."
his slender fingers trail down your jawline, the side of your neck, and disappear below the collar of the shirt as they trace your collarbone. your breath hitches when he continues down your cleavage, ready to unbutton the fabric.
"say it out loud." he asks, not moving a muscle as he searches your face for any kind of regret. when he finds none, he undoes the first button. harmless, but a statement. he wants to keep his promise from last night. "i'm not going further unless you say it."
"i want it." you breathe out.
"you want what?" his nails graze your skin as they travel to the second button, sending goosebumps all over your body. "you'll have to be specific, princess."
"i want you." the words are poison on your tongue, and at the same time, the most honest thing you've uttered in your life. "i want you to fulfill your promise."
"that's all i needed to hear."
the buttons fall to the floor as yunho rips the shirt off you. the blood stained fabric falls on the ground, your bottoms soon joining, leaving you in nothing but underwear before him. "you're..."
"don't," you shy away from his intense gaze, squeezing your legs shut and turning your head to the side.
"you're everything i've ever wanted."
his big hands hold your thighs firmly, separating them and creating space so that he can lay down in between. gently, he peels your underwear off you, groaning in the process when he sees your glistening core. he blows onto it teasingly, and before you can scold him, he attaches his lips to the tip of your clit. his long fingers slip past your folds with a squelching sound, until his knuckles stop him. he curls his fingers upwards, the soft pads of them massaging your inner wall as you yank at the cuffs. not to free yourself, but desperate to hold onto something.
he hums against you, satisfied with the way your body responds to him. he pulls away for a split second, shooting you a teasing glance. "you'll have to tame those pretty hands of yours, dove."
you manage to stay calm. after all, there is a guard in front of the door, and the clinking of the metal isn't the most quiet noise. you do fine, you think. until pressure builds up in your lower stomach, erupting when yunho speeds up his moves and sucks harshly on your clit. a series of barely contained whines and sighs leave your lips, gracing yunho's ears.
"this won't work." he sighs, hovering above you and moving the hair out of your face.
"what?" your heart drops.
"i'll have to keep you quiet somehow. as much as i fucking love the noises you make, i don't want this to end just yet."
carefully, he turns you over so that you lay on your stomach. you don't question him. you trust him, even when naked, tied up and locked in his room. you feel him press against you, rock hard. you don't know when he managed to take his clothes off. you don't think. all you do is feel.
the way his bare skin presses against your back. the way one of his hands reach for your jaw, cupping it as he slips two fingers between your lips. the way you taste on his slightly wrinkled digits. the way he aligns himself with your clenching hole, but not without smearing your slick all over his tip first. the way he lets out a soft grunt when he first pushes in a few inches.
one by one, and after each one, you think he'll stop. he doesn't, until you feel him in your lower stomach. when his hips finally rest against your bottom, he lets out a deep moan, head falling on your shoulder and teeth biting into it. you're full, impossibly full.
"fuck," he breathes out. "forgive me. i don't know if i have enough control to hold back."
you wish to tell him that you don't want him to hold back. his fingers in your mouth do a good job of not letting you make a sound. he pulls away, slowly, only to push back in with the same pace. he savours every clench you offer him, and every swirl of your tongue around his fingers.
"if- fuck-" his other hand grabs your waist, steadying himself. "if at any point it becomes too much, bite my fingers. i'll stop right away."
so caring. and oh, so fucking hot when he fills you up again, lips landing on your ear shell as he moans and sighs. his voice is deeper than usual, causing you to become wetter than ever and him struggling to keep a steady pace. eyes roll to the back of your head, and toes curl with each snap of his hips. little by little, you feel him lose it. the moves aren't precise and slow anymore. they are strong, desperate, and uncontrollable.
he holds onto you for dear life, digging his nails into your skin as he drives his cock through your warm walls, hitting the spots you never knew you had. you drool around his fingers, brain mushy and hands pale from the grip they have on the metal bar.
"i want to claim you," he breathes out. "i want to fill you up, please."
you hum, and manage to nod your head. you expect him to unleash, to do just what he asked you. instead, he pulls away, leaving you empty and aching. before you can whine, he turns you back over so that you face him. he looks ruined. hair a mess, cheeks flushes, lips almost bleeding from being bitten and trying to hold back noises. a thin layer of sweat coats his bare body, and his cock... fuck, it might be the only one that turned you on just from the sight of it. slightly curved, long, and veiny.
"look at me while i claim you."
and you do. eyes fixed on his cock as it slides in to the end, making a bulge in your lower stomach. he covers your mouth with his hand, each snap of his hips into yours eliciting a delicious muffled moan from you. just as he loses his focus and his moves become sloppy, you feel the heat rising, washing over your body before euphoria hits you. the sight of you throwing your head back, teary eyes rolling back, and fingers biting into his palm, which he knows is not a warning to stop but a sign of pleasure, seems to do the trick for him.
hot ropes of cum shoot inside you, filling you to the point you didn't know you could be filled. he pumps in and out, squelching noises softly echoing in the room as he fucks every drop of cum into you. not once do his eyes leave your hole, even when he pulls away. he is utterly mesmerized with the way you clench around nothing, white liquid spilling out.
yunho removes his hand from your face, placing a soothing kiss to your lips. "my pretty girl."
he lays on top of you, caressing your face wet from sweat and tears. he allows you a few moments of silence to regain your strength, although you're not sure how you'll do that. you don't even realize he has gotten up and is dressing you up. of course, not without uncuffing you and grabbing a towel first to clean you. such a gentleman. a deranged gentleman.
"yunho..." you call his name.
"don’t look at me like that," he murmurs, avoiding your eyes as he puts his own clothes back on.
"like what?"
"pitiful. like i’m worth saving."
your heart breaks a little.
"maybe you are," you whisper. he ignores you, deciding that he has had enough honest conversations for today. you shift the conversation, giving him peace for now. "did you... did you take my panties last night?"
"ah." he nods, as if remembering. "yes. and my apologies, i was terribly wrong. it isn't grandma panties."
"can i have them back?"
"no."
"where are they, anyway?" you look around. the room only has a bed, an armchair, a night stand, and another door that leads to a tiny bathroom.
"don't spoil the fun, little lamb. or i might have to stop by for another pair." he turns around and approaches the window, bloody finger tracing the frame of it. he taps it once, twice, like the dull thud of a shovel biting soil. "tuesday is coming soon. you'll leave it open for me this time, won't you?"
"we'll see."
right now, your priority is making sure you don’t end up pregnant with jeong yunho’s child. the rest can be easily dealt with.
𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐋.
+82 31-1117-1117: are you up for an adventure, dr park?
+82 31-0304-1998: i'm intrigued. go on.
+82 31-1117-1117: how would you like to visit a few places with me?
+82 31-0304-1998: you wish to play detective, doctor?
+82 31-1117-1117: in or out? i'm leaving at noon.
+82 31-0304-1998: i promised sloane lunch.
+82 31-1117-1117: suit yourself.
you'd be lying if you said it didn't bother you. you hate when you don't get it your way. and frankly, you were scared. for the life of you, you cannot calculate jeong yunho's next move. it should've been easy: him locked up, you breaking him down little by little, exposing his true nature, and you returning to your home.
instead, you are fuming over dr park having lunch with another woman as you drive to the jeong residence. he should've dropped her for you. even though the phone vibrates in your bag, and his name peeks out for you to read, you ignore it.
as you make a left turn, you find yourself in the quiet neighbourhood. most people who had secret investigation on mind would come during quiet night hours. you chose noon strategically: the heat has rushed everyone inside, pulling the blinds on the windows and locking the doors. the light plays in your favour, no need for unnecessary shadows and flashlights. the last thing you need is to be afraid of dark. the only mistake you might have made is driving your own car here. the polished maserati doesn't quite fit in with the muddy fords and chevys.
the asphalt shimmers like molten glass as you glide across it, the air thick enough to choke. you notice how every house has toys in their yard. a person who doesn't have any knowledge of the gruesome crime that happened here wouldn't feel uneasy. you do, knowing what happened just a few houses away.
you pass by the shop where everything took place, and notice it is open. there is a single person inside, possibly the clerk, and they're stocking up the shelves. you sit for a while, debating whether or not to pay it a visit. when you roll the window of the passenger seat down, the hot air clashes with the working ac in the car, and the sound of cicadas is the first thing you hear. and only, along with faint thudding of crates and boxes from the shop. no children, no conversations, no other vehicles except yours.
until a knock on the driver's window startles you. you turn around, expecting an elderly woman to ask about you, or a man to comment about your car. instead, you find a child. before you can react, he slaps his small hand against the window, leaving a sticky mark behind and making your blood boil.
"hi, missus!" he yells.
"fuck." you mutter with a sigh. as the window rolls halfway down, you take your time in examining the child. he seems to be no younger than five, and no older than eight. he wears swim shorts, muddy sandals, and a dirty tee with a wolf print. how convenient. "hi, sweetie."
"hello." he waves, lips curling up and showing an uneven set of teeth. someone needs to cut the sweets in that house. "you have a nice car."
"thank you, darling." you smile, though your eyes run to the fingerprints that peek from the half rolled window glass. "where are your parents? why are you on the road in the middle of summer heat? you'll get ill."
"mommy is sleeping. daddy is on the pool floatie. he fell asleep also." he shrugs. "my sisters said if i came over here and asked your name, i can play with their toys. and if i ask you a five bucks, they'll give me candy. look, they're right there!"
the small finger points at the bushes of the house across the road, and surely enough, two heads are peeking from behind the greenery. they quickly crouch, in hopes of hiding, though the buns on their heads stay sticking out with betrayal.
"is that so?" you raise your eyebrow. the boy only grins, rocking back on his muddy sandals, waiting for your answer. to anyone else, it would be nothing. a child's dare, sisters giggling in the bushes. but your mind twists it, the wolf on his shirt staring back at you, the sticky handprint feeling like a mark you'll never scrub off. you force a smile anyway. "well, what if i told you i'll give you something better?"
bribing children, especially those you don't know, isn't one of your hobbies. though right now, it could be something that will come in handy. as long as no adult is present to witness you shortly kidnapping a child. as for his sisters, you hope their parents will be careless about their words as they are about their child wandering around during a heat stroke.
you park the car on the sidewalk, leaving all four lights on. you'll be quick.
"what is better than candy, missus?" he walks beside you, sandals creating wet sounds as he does so. he must've just gotten out of the pool, because there are droplets of water running down his tan arms.
"you'll see." you say as you enter the shop. "good day."
the shop's cool air hits you like a wave, carrying the faint scent of cardboard and detergent. the clerk looks up from stacking boxes, nodding politely. his stare lingers on the bag that hangs from your shoulder, before he returns to his task of restocking a carrot crate.
the boy trails behind, sandals squeaking, eyes wide. "is it ice cream? better than candy has to be ice cream."
"patience." you pat his head, and fight the urge to visibly cringe when you feel the greasy and sweaty hair under your fingers. "you can go look for a while, then i'll tell you. understood?"
"understood!"
and with loud and wet slaps against the floor, he disappears into the toy section.
"how do you know the morris family?" the man hits the spot without knowing.
quickly, you connect the dots. the house where the boy came from must've belonged to the deceased ethan morris. and the child must be his grandchild. jackpot. you clear your throat, eyes fixed on the child. before you can answer, he speaks again.
"sorry for the interrogation," he laughs. "you just don't look like you belong here. not even visiting, let alone living."
"what gives away?" your nervously return the laugh, clutching your bag.
"well, it isn't a big neighbourhood, and not many are willing to sell their houses here. it's peaceful, and safe. we all know each other." he stacks the empty crates beside the counter, then turns around as he dusts his hands against his jeans. then, he points at your bag. "and i think you're the first person to enter this neighbourhood with a prada in her hand."
you knew this might happen. still, you couldn't bring yourself to disguise as a low or middle class citizen. you've worked hard for your status, and you'll flaunt it all you want. you press the leather closer to your side, as if the logo itself were a wound. the clerk only smiles, but you can feel the weight of his words settling in the room.
outside, the cicadas drone, and the boy's sandals slap against linoleum as he reappears with a plastic truck.
"see? better than candy," he grins, oblivious.
you force a laugh, though the prada strap digs into your shoulder like a reminder: you don't belong here, and everyone knows it. if not, they soon will.
"don't worry, i'm not one to gossip." he calms you for a moment as he sits on the knitted rice bags in front of the counter. "though, just to be sure, you could buy my silence by telling me what you're doing here? this is pure curiosity speaking."
it isn't your job to play detective, yunho was right. you take your chances anyway. "would you believe me if i said i'm here to bribe kids to tell me more about the ethan morris case?"
"ah." he nods. "the jeong yunho craze."
"jeong yunho craze?" you repeat.
"oh?" the man raises an eyebrow. "you're not one of his... fans?"
"fans?" your heart drops.
"jeong yunho has a quite big fanbase. jeong truthers they call themselves. pretty privilege plays a big one in this case. they defend him to this day, and appear on every court hearing with banners and megaphones." he explains as if it is the most normal thing in the world. "i don't know whether he is aware, but if not, it would be better for everyone to stay that way."
"no, i'm not one of his fans." if this is true, and yunho finds out, he will become insufferable. he will use it as his weapon, and throw you further off. "that's very disturbing."
"don't believe me? i'll take you to his house myself." he offers, standing up.
you step back, almost bumping into the boy. this has escalated far more than you expected, and you feel unprepared. this could either be a trap, or a trail. you become questionable about multiple things, such as whether dr park and dr burke are familiar with this fanbase, and whether they deemed it important to tell you.
when he sees your focused face and defensive demeanor, his features soften. "i apologize, i came on too strong. let me try again."
he offers you his hand, and you hesitantly take it. his palm is warm, steady, too steady for someone you've just met. then again, his entire demeanor is cool and laid off. perhaps it's simply his nature, and you have become skeptical of everything around you. you don't even trust yourself.
"choi jongho, nice to meet you."
choi jongho has black hair, a round face, and pretty dark eyes. when he smiles, his cheeks resemble the ones of a hamster, in the sweetest way possible. his voice is gentle warmth, not like the merciless heat outside. the shop suddenly feels cozy. the scent of fresh vegetables envelops you, as well as a faint smell of the wooden crates and knitted rice bags. you feel your walls slowly falling, though you maintain a distance, just in case. you hate how easily the coziness seeps in, how quickly suspicion dulls with each passing second.
he repeats your name out loud after you say it, trying it out on his lips. "lovely name. if i wasn't sure before, now i am: you are not from around here."
"no, no i'm not." you finally confirm.
"heeellooo?" a small hand yanks at your bag strap, and you drop your gaze to the boy. "i want this."
"right." you say through a forced smile. he offers the toy for you to take, but when you reach for it, jongho stops you. "oh, it's okay. i'm buying it."
the man pays you no mind, instead putting the toy on the counter so that the child cannot reach it, and grabs him by the shoulders and bends over to his eye level. "go home."
"but-" his little jaw drops. "but-!"
"no buts, ethan. home. now."
ethan morris. she named her child after her father. what a shame, naming an innocent child after a pedophile.
"i'm gonna tell mom." ethan cries out, and before you can intervene, he is already crossing the road and rushing home.
"i could've bought it." you cross your arms as you follow him outside, then wait for him to lock the shop. "now i am both a kidnapper and a liar."
"gun to my head, i don't know which is worse." he laughs, warm and sweet. "it's just a few houses away, but i wouldn't want you to have a heatstroke on your first visit to this neighbourhood."
"oh, we can take my car."
the words leave you before you think. gods, it's like you've left your brain behind. you have just offered a stranger to sit in your car and drive with him to a murderer's house. jongho senses your hesitation, then steps away, as if giving you space and telling you he isn't danger.
"stranger danger alarms blaring?" he asks.
"kind of." you admit. "do you have anything that'll offer me peace of mind?"
"first, i own the only shop in this neighbourhood and i have closed it. if something happens, they'll know i was gone while it was happening. second, it's the middle of the day. you can scream for help, you'll get it. third, three children have seen us together. trust me, word will spread before we get to the jeong house."
surely enough, you hear blinds being opened, and curious heads peeking through windows. so much for going unnoticed. what is done is done. they do not know who you truly are, anyway.
"hop in, choi jongho."
the house hides behind untrimmed bushes and branches. it has one floor, a wrap around porch, and a pretty pale yellow colour. you expected the place to give you creeps, or simply an uneasy feeling. but as you step in front of the door, with jongho behind you, you don't feel anything. you don't feel watched, and you don't feel chills. it was calm, and that's what upset you.
"what's the plan?" he asks, looking around for any signs of intruders. other than the two of you.
"going in, obviously."
"you think that's a smart idea? what do you expect to find in there, anyway?"
everything. and nothing. investigators have raided the house, and haven't found anything valuable besides a list of victim's names. perhaps you'll get lucky.
"i'll know when i see it. now, would you be a gentleman and break into the house for me?"
"when you ask so nicely, i can't say no."
he shatters a window in the back, then climbs in. after a few moments of shuffling, he offers his hand for you to take, and you climb in as well. sunlight creeps through dusty glass, revealing the interior in its full glory. it is anything but creepy. the interior is warm coloured, with shades of green and orange painting the furniture and walls. it is messy, due to all the investigation that took and is still taking place.
"isn't this very, very illegal?" he asks, brushing the pad of his finger across the wooden tv stand and then bringing it to his lips, only to blow the dust off in the air. "tampering with evidence or whatever?"
"why bring me here, then?" you examine the pictures on the wall. yunho as a teen. a big smile, yet soulless eyes. "and why enter with me?"
"it's not like kids don't break in here every few days just to mess around and tell spooky stories. his fans as well. i guess i feel a little left out, so... might as well."
the parquet floor creaks softly as you walk around the living room, eyes searching for anything that could indicate a trail. he disappears into the kitchen, rummaging through cupboards. "don't touch anything."
"you think they'll look for fingerprints eight years later?" he scoffs.
as he turns around to look at you, and finds you with a handkerchief in hand while you hold a framed picture, he nods.
"you're right. sorry."
the picture is of a boy and a woman. you'd recognize the big dark eyes anywhere. he has the woman's eyes, and her lips as well. jeong gayoung. "whatever happened to his mother?"
"she got hit by a drunk driver." he replies, walking back into the living room. "but they reopened the case because they found something on yunho about it."
"do you know what?"
"i don't know. he hired the driver, i'm guessing?"
believable, even though you don't have any proof. gayoung did something to him, you know it. then, it clicks; perhaps the solution doesn't lie within yunho. perhaps it lies in someone else, six feet under. she was buried with a secret, and nobody has thought to unbury it.
"did yunho live here alone?"
"interestingly, they both lived here when he was a teenager. then they moved, and the house wouldn't sell at all. people came and looked, but nobody wanted it. it was the prettiest one on the street. yunho then came back by himself and started going to college, until his mother moved in for a while and he took a break to take care of her. she stayed for half a year, then moved out a month before she died."
the bottom floor doesn't hold much information, so you move on to the first one. he trails behind, and you thank him for giving you space to breathe and think. the floor has three doors, two on the sides and one a the end of the hallway.
the first room is his mother's, you immediately notice. the closet and dresser are emptied out, clothes scattered on the floor. the bed is unmade, covers dropping from the mattress. it doesn't seem to have much, aside an additional nightstand and a broken mirror that hangs on the opposite of the bed.
"say, how is he doing?" jongho pushes the clothes with his foot aside so that you can freely walk around.
"how is who doing?"
"yunho."
you stop in your tracks.
"i know you're somehow connected to him. what are you? his lawyer? his doctor?"
his tone isn't accusatory. it isn't threatening, either. it is pure curiosity. when you turn around, you find him leaning against the dresser, a soft smile on his lips and arms crossed over his chest.
"i think you owe me an explanation after i helped you get in here."
"ah, that's how it is? you blackmailer. subtle, but still a blackmailer." you raise an eyebrow, then move on to the nightstand next to the bed. seems to be the only thing someone made an effort to tidy up. "you may not tell a soul, choi jongho. or i will bring you to yunho myself."
the first drawer has a few pens and books in it. you flip through pages, and find nothing but two bookworms and a bookmark. the second drawer has a burnt candle. sandalwood and jasmine. she probably liked to light a candle and read in the evenings. that's what you would be doing as well, had you stayed back home and not let jeong yunho make you crawl through dusty broken windows in search for answers that do not exist.
"cross my heart and hope to die." jongho sings as he sits on the dresser, playfully wiggling his legs in the air.
"i'm his-" you crouch as you pull the final drawer open with the handkerchief. "-psychiatrist."
the drawer is full of sex toys. were you familiar with them? yes. were you expecting them here? not quite, no. certainly not in every shape and colour. explains why it was the only thing shut.
"ah." jongho nods, oblivious. "how is he doing?"
"i- i'm trying to find out." you struggle to make out a sentence.
the dark haired man notices your sudden distance, and hops down from the dresser. as he approaches, he gasps. "woah."
"yeah." you whisper. now is when you feel the chills.
"it's not so surprising, though. is it?" he crouches next to you, peeking deeper into the drawer. "a widow, having a bunch of sex toys? or are you a prude?"
you ignore his comment. you were no prude. you simply trusted your instincts, and right now, they were screaming that something isn't right.
"i was only joking, i'm sorry." he nudges you with his elbow. "do you want to move on?"
"you go." you trail, eyes still fixed on the colorful drawer. "let me know if you find anything."
jongho listens, and soon his footsteps become distant as he moves down the hallway. carefully, with your hand wrapped in the handkerchief, you reach for a toy. nothing you haven't seen before. except when you turn it over, you audibly gasp.
with a black marker on the bottom, two words are clear as the day outside: jeong yunho.
the second one has the same words, and the third one, and the fourth one. until the fifth one.
jeong stefano.
your legs give out, and you fall on the floor, accidentally pulling the drawer out and letting it fall on the parquet with a thud. the wooden drawer breaks, causing toys to spill, and your eyes to catch something else. beneath the space meant for the drawer, there is a hole. you reach deep into it, face pressed against the cold wooden surface until your fingers feel something. they grab, and pull out a cassette.
one by one, almost twenty cassettes find their new home on the dresser, all labelled similar.
client one through twenty.
"uh... doc?" jongho peeks his head through the door.
"yes?" you reply, eyes not ready to leave newfound evidence yet.
"i think you want to see this."
as you enter the other room, you soon find out it is yunho's. it looks manly decorated, with missing essentials such as a proper closet and blinds. nothing looks out of the ordinary, except jongho standing in the middle with a pale look on his face. you don't think anything he has found can surprise you more than what you did. yet it does, when he holds a few hand written papers in his hand. you take them, eyes skimming over the neat cursive writing.
"i think i am becoming a jeong truther." jongho sighs.
heels click against the cafeteria floor, announcing your angry arrival. staff move out of the way, much quicker than usual. they say you don't look like yourself when truly angry. that you look possessed, with darkened eyes and red cheeks. it makes you scarier. and they should be scared, especially dr burke, and right now, dr park as well. simply because he is in the wrong place at the wrong time.
the empty tray in your hands slams against the table, interrupting a joyful chatter between your two new colleagues. "burke. park."
"is this the way they greet at your institution?" the woman scoffs.
"hi, y/n. would you like to sit with us?" seonghwa stands up, offering to pull a chair for you.
your hand lands on his chest, gently pushing him away. "no need. i refuse to sit with imbeciles."
sloane laughs with disbelief. "excuse me?"
"y/n, is everything okay?" seonghwa's eyes seek yours, and when you look at him, you see genuine worry. "do you wish to talk privately?"
"where did you buy your fucking diploma?" you spit out.
you can feel the professionalism slipping from your grip as you stare at eyes drained of empathy. maybe she knows, yet she doesn't care. how can she carry the burden of it, and not share it or seek solutions? you thought yourself heartless, yet here you stand, defending a killer and a liar who broke into your home and gave you a night no one else ever could. and you fear no one ever will.
"okay, let's pause." the blonde man takes you by the hand and leads you into the garden, away from prying eyes and behind an oak tree. he sits you on the bench, then crouches in front of you with his hands on your knees. "hey."
"did you work with yunho?" his figure becomes blurry before your eyes as you speak.
"for a while." he nods. "why?"
"and did you know?"
"did i know what?"
you're breaking the confidentiality, the ethics of psychiatry. yet the pain in your heart is too great to keep silent. "that yunho was trafficked by his own mother, sold to adults as if he were an object?"
"oh, love." his brows soften, and the look in his eyes switches from worry to pity.
"you knew." your stomach drops. "you fucking knew."
"i- i couldn't tell you, you know that." and you understand him, in a way. but the anger and grief is greater than understanding, and you find yourself pushing him away. "please-"
"you both knew. and you allowed everyone to treat him like a monster instead of simply treating him?" voice cracks as you speak, and tears stream down your blazed cheeks. "you let him believe that he lives in a world where people get away with stuff like that. that the victim gets punished. you worsened his condition for your own amusement."
"he isn't being punished for being a victim, y/n, and we aren't using him for our amusement. get a hold of yourself." his tone sharpens. you've struck a nerve. "he is being punished for murdering people."
"people who did things his mother did to him." you argue.
"it wasn't his call to make, why can't you understand?" he squeezes your knees, as if trying to ground you. "jeong yunho isn't the one who decides who lives or dies. not him, not anyone. no one gets to play god."
"fine."
"wait, don't-" he reaches for you when you stand up, but you slap his hand away.
"do not lay your hands on me, dr park." you warn.
and he doesn't, opting to stay under the tree and watch as you storm off into your ward.
yunho is asleep when you enter his room, and though he stirs awake, he stays still while you sit in the armchair. one of his hands is shackled to the bed, the other one free and gripping the metal frame.
"good morning, yunho."
you don't mean for it to sound so... pitiful. you truly don't. yet he sees right through it. and it angers him. "what the fuck?"
"how did you sleep?"
"little lamb?" he sits up straight, eyes drilling holes into your skull. "did you go to places you shouldn't have? touched things that don't belong to you? spoken to people that might now be in danger because of you?"
he knows. he doesn't need to be clever. the cassette peeking from your bag gives it all away. you didn't mean for it to be hidden anyway.
"if that is what i think it is..." he trails, watching as you take the item out and put it on the nightstand that divides the bed and armchair. "oh, princess."
"yunho-"
"you are so fucked."
your heart beats just a little faster, and louder. you swallow thickly, and your eyes drop on the clipboard you hold in your hand. "yunho, i'm here to talk. not to feed off your misery or mock you."
"so you came to pity me to my face? why? because my mother sold a minor as a sex toy to adults?" he says it so easily. "and, oh! that minor happens to be me?"
you stay silent, sensing a rant incoming.
"let's see." he grabs the item with his free hand and reads it. "client thirteen. ah. a frequent one. she used to come over and take me for the weekend. paid double the price just to have me reserved for then. you know what's funny? she was my mother's best friend. knew me all my life."
"is that why you killed your mother? all those people?" you cut straight to the chase. you've learned that you gain nothing from beating around the bush with yunho. if he wants to tell you, he'll tell you. if not, you can beat as much as you'd like. he'll stay silent. "and... stefano?"
"i should've burned the whore alive. hitting her with the car was the most merciful thing i could've done." he grits his teeth. "stefano was her name for me when i behaved well."
"good meaning?"
"meaning i was drugged. meaning i took whatever was given to me." his answer is sharp and clear. "stefano didn't cry, didn't refuse. he got rewarded. candy, clothes, toys. you name it. yunho? oh, he was the rebellious one. the one mommy wasn't proud of."
now you understand. you were right, after all. stefano is the persona he used whenever he was vulnerable, and though he can differentiate it and manipulate it for his own benefit, you don't doubt that he still does the same thing.
"there. you have my touching life story. now, let's talk about yours."
"yunho." you warn.
"i don't know what's worse: having no family, a sick family, or a family that despises you. you can relate to me though, can't you?"
even though you know what he means, you shrug. "i do not know what you are talking about."
"oh?" he raises an eyebrow, amused. "i thought we were unraveling each other's stories. go on then, doctor. let's unravel yours."
"there is nothing to-"
"sent away to a boarding school at the age of fifteen, barely having any contact except when you had bad grades and needed a few spanks to put you back on track. a brother addicted to crack, a cheating mother, and an abuser father. you saved yourself, didn't you? that's what you like to think."
"how..." the hell does he know?
he smiles. not mischievously, and not evil. almost a knowing one, he offers you. it is true. your brother is a drug addict, your mother a whore, and father an abuser. and yes, you like to think that you saved yourself.
"sending them money each month, or whenever they call. you're buying your freedom, your image. can't have colleagues know you have a messed up family, right?"
it was a deal you had made; send money, and we'll leave you alone. and you had no issues with it. you earn enough to feed six families, so buying silence is easy. it came with a benefit called freedom and clean image.
"you lie alone in that big house, with empty bedrooms and hallways. hell, you can't even fill the other half of your bed." he scoffs. "you surround yourself with people who are below you, just so you can feel better about yourself. you yell at your cooks, at your housekeepers. you tsk at your colleagues, look down on them. does it make you feel good? do you have a humiliation kink?"
yunho knows too much. way too much. instead of being offended, you are scared. why, and how does he know?
"beneath this indestructible glamour? you're a vulnerable little dawn. your walls are a gimmick, a decoy army you use to defend yourself. guess i have the power to see through it." he adds a finishing punch, knocking the breath from your chest, leaving you hollow.
he is winning once again, and you are allowing him. this time not because of the attraction, but because when you look at his eyes a little longer, the empty ones from the framed picture stare back at you. you aren't doing this for him. you are doing this for the little boy from the picture.
thus, you smile as you stand up, hand reaching for the cassette. he's puzzled by your behaviour, probably expecting a clever comeback or an outburst. you gently take the cassette from his hand, fingers brushing his wounded ones. you hate how you feel goosebumps when it happens.
the cassette is safely put away in the drawer of the nightstand. you trust him, against your better judgment, to keep it hidden from prying eyes.
"what i said hasn't changed. i am still your ticket out." you say, softly shutting the drawer.
"you may believe that you have such power." his tone shifts. it is honest, and almost defeated. "even i believe you to be a powerful woman, despite your vulnerabilities. though, they become vulnerabilities only once someone finds out about them. but no power in the world can take away my life sentence."
it is for the first time since it all started that he sounds genuine. his power seeps through, the ability to praise and degrade in the span of five minutes. you're slowly growing fond of it.
"well, except one power." he remembers.
"which power is that?" you raise an eyebrow as you reach the door, ready to push the button.
"the power of jeong stefano."
and just like that, his smirk is back. and you somehow find yourself more at ease. you've grown familiar with the evil side of him so much that any other side he shows simply gives you an uneasy feeling.
"i'll see you soon, yunho. thank you for cooperating today."
"see you on tuesday, little lamb."
𝐓𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐃𝐀𝐘.
have you mentioned that you are a selfish woman?
if not, then, there. you are aselfish woman.
and if yes?
well, whatever you did that gave you the title is nothing compared to where you are and what you are about to do now.
see, it has occurred to you that tuesdays and fridays are no longer safe for you. thus, you have decided to meddle in the schedule and put yourself on a night shift. the doctor in charge of the schedule didn't need any convincing. you got your shift with seonghwa, just like you wanted. you like when you get what you want.
upon entering the institution, you meet seonghwa at the exit. he has his leather bag hanging from the shoulder, and wears his specs, which means he is leaving.
"dr. park." you greet.
he only nods, then pushes past you. right. he might be angry about your little outburst and accusation of bought diplomas.
"dr. park?" you bite back your pride. "i wanted to apologize for my behaviour."
"okay." he forces a smile. "that all? i really have to go."
no. you won't allow it. you are the one that is angry. he doesn't get to be that. "don't you have a shift to work?"
"not that it is any of your business," he sighs, then rolls his shoulders back to straighten his posture before continuing, "but i have a date. i swapped shifts."
"a- a date?" you stupidly stutter.
"yes." he confirms. he then raises an eyebrow questionably. "don't you have a shift to work?"
caught red handed, you open your mouth to speak, yet you decide to swallow the words you wished to say. instead, you regain your composure, and put on your best pair of eyes and a smile. "i've come to talk to you. to apologize in person."
"could've waited tomorrow."
you don't like how his answers are short and disinterested. you don't like how he isn't walking on eggshells around you. fuck, you don't like the way he is looking at you, either. it's bothering you in ways it usually doesn't. you aren't annoyed by the fact that he has the audacity to dislike you. you are annoyed because you want his attention, and he doesn't care.
"seonghwa," you call, almost seductively, and reach for his arm as you look up at him, "i care about your opinion. as a colleague, as a friend. i don't wish to lose the only good person in my life right now."
overplaying? perhaps. but the way his gaze softens tells you to continue with your statements, even if they're nothing but lies.
"try to understand me, as well. you've kept information from me. yes, it's against the ethical code, but it's exchanging information in order to cure someone. not to make fun of them. you're telling me you've invited me over here and can't trust me with such things? it hurts, dr. park."
he places a hand over yours, squeezing it gently before sliding it off. "that might've worked where you came from. here? not as much."
just like that, he flips a switch, continues his journey. childishly, you stomp your foot on the ground. fucking burke. now what? you are to go and have a session with jeong yunho while most of the staff is gone? you don't think so. but where do you go, when your own place isn't safe?
the black maserati makes another appearance in the once visited neighbourhood. your hopes of making it in time are shattered when you meet the closed shop. jongho has gone home. you park the vehicle it on the side of the road, with all four blinkers working, just like last time. you walk around the entrance, hoping to catch a glimpse of him still doing closing duties. he's not there. only crates of vegetables and fruit, and bags of rice illuminated by the yellow street light.
your eyes fall on the ground, the worn off welcome mat dusty and dirty. with the tip of your shoe, you try to dust it off. you fail, causing the mat to slide to the side. a tired huff leaves your cracked lips, and just when you think about getting in the back seat and sleeping in the car, your eyes fall to the ground where the mat was. there is a rectangular outline of dirt where it usually laid, and a piece of paper.
with shaky fingers, you unfold it, revealing a familiar handwriting that knocks the air out of your lungs.
what did i say about going to places you should never go to?
always a step ahead. fuck, you hate him. you hate him because he is clever. he is intelligent, and cocky. the worst combination that can exist. you only hope jongho is safe. after all, yunho did threaten to endanger those you've spoken with in this place.
in no time, you find yourself back in the car, paper crumpled in your hand as you toss it on the passenger seat. you lock the doors, roll your windows up, and adjust the rear-view mirror. only to have your heart stop and body freeze for the second time tonight.
dark brown eyes gleam from the shadow, accompanied by a pearly white smile.
"yunho." you breathe out.
"princess." he greets, voice raspy and low. he tilts his head to the side, that freaky habit of his, as he looks at you through the mirror. "are you only capable of being obedient while you're underneath me? while i'm claiming you?"
you gulp, audibly. it makes his smile grow wider. some twisted luck keeps him from seeing the way your thighs squeeze upon hearing his words. "how did you know i'll be here?"
"silly girl." he clicks his tongue. "after i took care of jongho, i figured you might come over and update him on your little discovery."
"took care of jongho...?" you repeat, voice shuddering.
"you know me long enough to know that i keep my word." the corners of his mouth straighten, and just like that, the smile is gone. you can't decide what is worse; the wicked grin of his, or the shadow that is cast on his face as his dark brows furrow.
"what did you do?" the words come out as a whisper. as if being loud will trigger him, evoke the monster he keeps somewhat chained.
"why? do you care about choi jongho?" he leans in, eyes still locked with yours through the mirror as he rests his chin on your shoulder.
"i- i barely know him."
"right." he blinks. "and park seonghwa?"
yes. no. you don't know. "as a colleague, yes."
"and..." in the corner of your eye, something else glimmers beneath the street lights. heat rushes through your stomach and core, causing you to grip the wheel in a desperate attempt to wake up from this nightmare. the tip of the blade grazes your bare thigh, just beneath the skirt you are wearing. "as a lover?"
you wish to laugh in his face. call him crazy. ask him whether he is making a jest. yet yunho looks dead serious, dark eyes drilling holes into yours. thus, you decide to bite back any sarcastic remark you had and grace him with a truthful answer. "no."
"little lamb..." he closes his eyes, breathing the nickname out. "are you lying to me?"
"no, i'm not." you quickly respond. "it's the truth. park seonghwa is my colleague, and that's it."
as he turns his head to properly look at you, his hair tickles your cheek, and his warm breath ghosts over the side of your neck. he inhales, the tip of his nose brushing the sensitive skin under your ear and causing you to squirm under the blade. "good girl."
you stay perfectly still in the seat as he examines your features. you are being exactly what he wanted you to be: obedient. it's the only way out.
"i am a jealous man," his free hand settles heavy on your thigh, "and that's what you should be afraid of. not my rage, and not my lies. my jealousy is what you should fear."
"o-okay." you nod.
"now," he hums, looking around the car. "how can i be sure that you'll be this obedient outside the car?"
frankly, you're not sure whether you can move. your feet are stone cold on the floor of the car, and you may need his help stepping out. you turn your head so that you can look at him, and your breath hitches when your nose brushes his. you can't help the quick glance of his lips, mere inches away. you bite yours, carefully thinking of your words before you speak them. "can't you trust me?"
his gaze drops to your bottom lip, and you have to fight your own body and mind to stay still and not lean in. you hate how your thoughts are betraying you, as well as your heart. whether he knows or not, he proceeds to worsen the situation by brining his hand to your face and cupping your jaw. his thumb brushes the tear of fear that escapes your eye, and his gaze softens. "of course i can. if anything, you deserve a chance to prove that i can trust you."
though he says he trusts you, his strong grip on your elbow says otherwise. a precaution? might be. you don't blame him. he matches your pace, slowly walking on the dimly lit streets as if he isn't usually shackled in a room with a guard.
"can i ask where we are going?"
"you may." he chuckles. "we are going to visit someone."
someone could be anyone. gods, what connections does yunho have? how powerful is he outside serenity haven? have you underestimated him once again? before you can gather your thoughts, you stand in front of the house you recently raided with choi jongho. the man lets go of your elbow, then hands you the knife.
"hold it for me, will you?" he asks with a wink.
while he shuffles through his pockets in search of something, you stare at the handle. thighs clench on their own again, and if you didn't stick the blade in your burning core now, you never will. yunho unlocks the house, then flicks the lighter on. he lets you in first, then follows close behind after shutting the door. you shiver. not from cold, but from an unsettling feeling that runs through your bones. you feel shadows creeping up behind furniture and through doors, and if by now you weren't fool enough, you redeem yourself by turning towards yunho and leaning into him.
it takes him aback, you willingly pressing yourself against his chest, knife loosely kept in your palm. the man takes the weapon from your hand, slipping it into his back pocket before guiding your head up so that he can look at you. "careful, pretty. almost thought you'd betray me and kill me here."
"i didn't mean to," you almost think you've broken his trust. "i truly didn't."
"i know, princess." his hand cradles your jaw, skin warm against your cold one. "you're just a scared little thing, aren't you?"
yunho is scary. but the house is scarier. the bad memories it holds, the dark, and the eerie silence. yunho's soft breathing is calming, a remedy amid this unsettling situation. to further soothe your fear, he presses his lips against your forehead, staying like that for a while until he feels your shoulders drop and posture relax.
"i'll go first." he offers, the warm hue flickering on his face as he holds the lighter between the two of you. "would you like to hold my hand?"
you don't answer. you simply slide your hand into his, fingers interlocking as if they were meant to be. it's comforting, and safe. you trail behind as he climbs up the stairs, every now and then squeezing your hand when he feels you frantically look around or shudder. each squeeze grounds you, reminds you that even if evil, he is currently using his power to shield you from your own paranoia.
it is late to step away as you follow him into his room. it is too late to step away as he lights the single candle on his desk. it is way too late to step away as he lays down on his bed, patting the space beside him as an invitation. and fuck, it is impossibly late to step away when his eyes soften and his brows straighten, the look in them almost pleading as he waits for you to lay down.
"yunho..." your voice is hoarse and quiet. "i don't think-"
"please." he whispers. "please, y/n, lay down with me."
yunho rarely calls you by your name. he makes it sound pretty. you don't lay just yet, instead opting to kneel on the ground beside the bed. his eyes follow your figure as you do so, but you don't see any bad in them. his hand finds yours, capturing it in a gentle hold. as if telling you that you can leave if you wanted to. you know better than that.
"don't make me beg." it's not a threat. it's a plea. "it suits you way more than it suits me."
"yunho," you clear your throat. his eyes skim over your face, searching for any sign that will determine his further actions. "if i lie down, i'll never get back up the same."
"and if you don't, i'll never get back up the same." his hold on your hand tightens, just enough to convince you that he means it.
thus, you lay down. he guides you, wrapping his arms around you and placing your head on his chest. once you settle down, he sighs with content. his chest rises beneath your cheek, steady, unhurried. the rhythm of his heartbeat drowns out the silence of the house, and you hate yourself for finding comfort in it. every breath he exhales feels like a promise, every squeeze of his arm a claim.
"see?" he whispers into your hair. "you're safe here. safer than you've ever been."
your eyes sting, but you don't move. it's too late, impossibly late, and you realize you've given him the one thing he wanted most — your surrender.
"we've done a lot of talking. none of those conversations were dear to my heart, if i may be honest." confessions start spilling from his lips. "now i'm willing to talk."
"you're not treating this as a session, are you?" you look up at him. he doesn't look at you, instead simply shaking his head. "then... talk. i'm here to listen."
"you won't run away?"
you don't hear a chuckle, nor see a smile. he means it. "i won't."
"okay. i- give me a moment."
it is odd seeing him so vulnerable. if it's not another one of his deceptions. be it or not, you'll do your part. you'll listen. the candle flickers, shadows bending across his face. he swallows hard, fingers tightening around you.
"ethan was the same as her. he looked at kids the way she looked at me. i couldn't let him live. i couldn't."
the room feels smaller, heavier. you realize he isn't just confessing. he's binding you to his truth, daring you to carry it with him. "i know."
his heartbeat calms under your head, your words soothing his worries. "nobody saw my side. nobody wanted to. i saved their neighbourhood, and they threw me to those half witted, so-called professionals. i don't think of myself as a hero. i remember our conversation very well."
you stay silent, afraid of interrupting.
"i got over it. what pissed me off was naming the poor child after him. now he has to carry the name of a child predator all his life."
"well, think of it this way. he gets to give it a new personality. a better one. maybe years from now, when someone says the name ethan morris, they'll think of a lively teenager or adult. not someone buried six feet under with a horrible past."
yunho's lips twitch, not quite a smile, more like disbelief. "you really think a name can be reborn? that people forget what it carried?"
you hesitate, then nod against his chest. "they don't forget. but they can rewrite. isn't that what you wanted? to rewrite yourself?"
his breath catches, a sound sharp and fragile. the candle flickers, shadows bending closer. "rewrite... or erase. maybe that's all I've ever been trying to do. though, right now... i'd like to come clean with you about some other things."
"what do you mean?" your brows furrow upon his words, confused.
before speaking, he pulls you closer, so much that you are almost lying on top of him as his arms hold you securely. he rests his head on top of yours, and you can feel his heart beat faster beneath your cheek. "i knew you before you knew me."
fear creeps back up your spine, sending shivers through your body like ocean waves crashing against the mountain. "what?"
"the moment i saw you, i knew i had to have you." the tone is soft, despite the words sounding dangerous. "and when i touched you in that hallway... my body burned for you."
"i don't understand." tears well up in your eyes, blurring the dimly lit room you stare at as you lay caged on his body.
"then, when you looked at me, i knew i had you. i just hate how painfully long it took to free you from the delusion."
you fool. you utter fool.
"you were so beautiful, and so powerful. you killed people with glares. i fell for you before i learned your name." each confession is a taunt to the mind, and a stab to the heart. "i tortured you emotionally, and for that, i am sorry. i truly am. i never meant to hurt you. i had an ulterior motive, until i came to my senses and realized how bad i need you in my life. outside sessions, outside that institution. i needed you all to myself. i needed to break you down so that you can lean on me. you can let go now, i'll take care of you. you don't need to be alert and defensive anymore, i'll do it for you."
his breath warms your hair, steady now, almost reverent. your chest tightens, the candlelight blurring into streaks. you want to pull away, but his arms hold you firm, and your own weakness betrays you.
"seonghwa," he murmurs, voice low. "he brought you to me."
the room tilts, your stomach lurches. so it was all calculated. from the very first e-mail, to the rejection for sloane. "but, why?"
"he hates your guts, princess. how do you think i escape every tuesday and friday? he leaves it open on purpose. there is no stefano. not anymore, at least. there are no medications. there are no sessions. don't get me wrong, i did not fake my miserable youth. i would truly be sick and twisted to lie about an abusive mother like that while there are still many children waiting to be saved from it. seonghwa just happened to use my situation to get his revenge. in translation: i am his pawn. or so he thinks."
park seonghwa. the one you favoured over yunho. tried to, at least. the good one. a laugh betrays you. it echoes in the room, causing yunho to go still under you. you cannot stop, shaky laughter getting louder and louder as you repeat his words in your mind and go back to all the encounters you've had with the blond man.
"little lamb?" yunho calls softly, rubbing your back soothingly.
"i just," you hiccup from the fit of laughter, tears still blurring your vision and not stopping until they've dampened the collar of your top. "the irony."
"what do you mean?"
"the irony, that all this time i thought i should stick to seonghwa. i forced myself to like him, so i could take my mind off you. you are a patient, for god's sake. he's a doctor. it sounds right, doesn't it? who knew that you'd be the right choice all along."
the man hums, vibrations calming along with his tender touch. "i started off as a threat, that i'll admit. but your lips were such a pretty shiny shade, and the way your eyes looked at me... i couldn't remain the same. i betrayed seonghwa. the fiasco of me tying him up to that chair? all planned out. to scare you, throw you off."
"but why?" you ask once again, this time propping up on your elbows so that you can look at him. laughter fades, leaving behind quiet sniffles and hiccups. "revenge? is there a motive for his hatred? for this... ruse?"
his knuckles graze your wet cheek, caressing it as his other hand moves the hair out of your face. "once upon a time, a rookie had the opportunity to work with doctor y/n l/n. the rookie was, well, a rookie. made mistakes, was in the way. had a little crush on the said doctor, even asked her out. dr l/n wasn't fond of rookies. so what does she do? not only does she laugh in his face upon his date proposal, she fires him, barely giving him a chance to learn anything."
realization settles upon you, a blurry flashback of a young man spilling coffee all over you in the hallway emerging. "seonghwa."
"bingo."
"and that's his reason? me being mean to him and rejecting him has made him lure me here and turn a patient against me? that fucking wuss."
yunho chuckles softly, though there's no humor in it. "pathetic, isn't it? he wouldn't know what to do with you even if he had you. all his hatred, all his schemes. he cannot handle a woman like you. you know he planned to throw you into a room like mine? and still, it only led you here. to me. i suppose i should thank him."
your lips tremble, the laughter gone, replaced by a hollow ache. "so i was never choosing. i was just... delivered."
his hand cups your cheek properly, thumb brushing away the dampness. "delivered, fated, whatever word you want. but you see it now, don't you? you were meant to be mine."
"so what, i should thank him? the matchmaker?" you're bitter, it's evident. it doesn't anger yunho. it makes him smile wider, then press a kiss to your forehead.
"i did say we are going to visit someone." he reminds you. "the trip is not over yet."
"oh?"
yunho doesn't let you wait any longer. he stands up first, straightening his clothes and running his fingers through his hair. then, instead of helping you up, he simply picks your body up and carries you through the house. you hate how you have gotten more affection from jeong yunho than all the men in your life combined. for now, you allow yourself to enjoy it by leaning your head against his shoulder, nose buried in the crook of his neck and inhaling the scent of men shampoo and sweat.
"yunho?"
"yes, my love?"
"is jongho safe?" you test the waters. and you pass, because he simply nods. "you promise?"
"he's a friend of mine. i promise you, he is fine. the shop is closed because i told him to get away from here for a while. he'll be back."
"so you lied in the car. is there a reason for his disappearance?"
"we'll see whether shit goes down." he ends your interrogation by stopping in front of a door. he kicks it open with his foot, then continues the journey down the wooden stairs that lead to what seems like a basement. carefully, he sets you on the floor, not letting go until you regain your full balance. "consider this a... present, i guess."
the basement light flickers on, illuminating the dusty basement. the door clicks shut behind you, yunho dangling his keys on his finger for you to take. you do so, but not without sending him a puzzled look. a muffled yelp takes your attention away, and just like that, you fall into yunho's arms once again.
seonghwa is on his knees, tied up, with duct tape covering his mouth.
"ta-da!" yunho exclaims, standing behind the blond man and pulling his hair back. "all yours. he has tortured you long enough. i'm giving you a chance to be even. or who knows, you can one-up him?"
your breath catches, the sight of seonghwa's wide eyes burning through the dim light. the duct tape muffles his plea, but you hear it anyway, the sound of desperation clawing at your ears. yunho comes back to you, hands cupping your face, coaxing.
"he made you doubt yourself. made your life harder. played with us both. now is your chance to get back at him." your knees weaken, the keys trembling in your grip. the basement feels smaller, darker, and you realize yunho isn't just giving you a choice; he's binding you to his justice. "but first... i'd like to have my share of revenge. if that is okay with you?"
you don't speak. you watch.
you watch as yunho removes the tape from seonghwa's mouth. the blond man starts to cough. you wonder how long he was locked away here.
"hi, seonghwa." yunho's tone is mockery, you recognize it. "i bet you didn't think this would backfire like this."
"yunho," seonghwa's voice is tired, raspy. "please."
"you thought you were clever. thought you could use me, use her. but look at you now."
seonghwa's eyes dart to yours, wide, pleading. "y/n... don't let him-" his voice cracks, raw from silence and fear.
yunho's laugh is low, humorless. "don't let me? she's the one holding the keys. isn't that poetic?"
you do hold the keys. and you set them on the table nearby, not ready to leave just yet. you've gone down a rabbit hole, might as well make the best of it. you're tired of being used. you want to have the upper hand, properly. all this time you thought you had it, but they played in your face. mocked you behind your back. manipulated you however they wanted. you're just sad that sloane isn't here with seonghwa. yunho is already starting to rub off you. and the worst part? it feels liberating.
seonghwa's voice breaks, hoarse and frantic. "y/n... don't let him turn you. you're not like him."
your fingers twitch, the weight of the keys heavy even as they rest on the table. you know he's wrong. you are turning. and for the first time, it feels like power. you approach him, with slow footsteps, until he has to lean his head back so that he can look up at you. the fear in his eyes, and the terror in his voice. you finally see what yunho sees. and fuck, you love it.
"all this over a rejection?" you whisper.
"it goes beyond that, and you know it. but it doesn't matter. i'm willing to let it go." he gulps.
"you're not the one deciding what and when to let go, seonghwa." you lean in, so close that you can feel his breath on your face. "i am. and sadly for you, i am still as horrible as i was back then. maybe even worse."
yunho's voice tears through the silence, low and reverent. "that's my girl. that's the fire i saw in you."
seonghwa flinches, his breath hitching as your shadow stretches across his face. "y/n... you're not like him. don't-" but your laugh cuts him off, bitter and broken.
"maybe i'm worse. because i know exactly what i'm doing." your hand reaches towards yunho, calculated, all while your eyes remain on seonghwa. "and right now?"
fingers touch the handle of the knife in yunho's pocket, and you can't help the satisfied grin that spreads on your lips. the sharp blade shines against his porcelain skin, leaving a red trail behind as you drag it down to his neck.
you lean in, lips touching his ear as you whisper: "i'm going to eat you alive."
the moment fractures: a blur of motion, a collapse, the sound of weight hitting the floor. you don't realize you've stopped breathing until yunho's hands grip your shoulders, steadying you, pulling you back from the abyss. only then does air return to your lungs, sharp and ragged, as if you've been reborn into his grasp. the knife falls with a clank on the floor, and you fall to your knees before him. he follows, sitting on the floor with you, wiping the blood and sweat off your face. you call him, so quietly at first, that he doesn't hear it. you clear your throat, then try again. "yunho."
"yes, princess?"
"what about sloane?" realization hits you after the adrenaline fades. "she- she'll figure it out."
"have you learned nothing about me by now?" he fakes disappointment, an attempt to make you laugh. when you remain serious, he presses a kiss to your forehead, then one on your lips. "as i said, i'll take care of everything now. you think someone like sloane burke will be an obstacle?
"i guess not..." you trail, gaze falling to your dirty hands that lay on your lap. "what now?"
"now," he stands up, offering you his hand to take. you do, and as soon as you stand, you feel your legs go numb. yunho is quick to catch you, just like he did many times by now. "we can both start over. you as yourself, and me as myself. just say the word."
do you wish to leave your profession behind? you don't know. you don't remember wanting it in the first place. you remember the thrill of being the best without trying, and from then on, all you wanted was power and status. now, you're not so sure it's what you want in your life. you've come to like the vulnerable side of you yunho has managed to recover.
"you mean it?" you ask, arms wrapping around his waist and head lying on his chest.
"i mean it. wherever you want to, whenever you want to." vibrations soothe you as he speaks, along with his hand caressing your hair. "would you like that? would that make you happy?"
"yes." you confirm, more to yourself than to him. "yes, it would."
pairing﹢jeong yunho x fem!reader
genre﹢smut. ex-bf!yunho, age gap (reader is 24, yunho is 36), themes of obsessive tendencies and stalking, jealousy, emotional manipulation, slight yandere (if you squint), corruption kink, toxic relationship, dubcon undertones but it turns consensual, cunnilingus, choking, mean dom!yunho, implied size kink/difference [the big dick yunho agenda is real], hate + unprotected sex, missionary + mating press, praising + degradation, overstimulation, orgasm control, tummy bulge, creampie, pet names (doll, babydoll, dollface, angel, pretty girl, etc), minimal aftercare.
synopsis﹢he was the only older guy you had ever dated, and you swore you would never do this to yourself again. two years of love, obsession, and control are gone, or at least, that’s what you thought. some people don’t let go or move on — he never did. so why does he walk back into your life like nothing ever happened... this time, as your professor?
word count﹢17,9k
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these are the best eleven months of your life after ending the relationship with your now ex-boyfriend. next month you're even thinking of celebrating, because it will mark a whole year. your best friends will definitely treat it like a huge occasion, just like on that fateful day when you handed them the news on a silver platter… they had never been so happy, throwing a small party just for the three of you.
YUNHO was the only older guy you had ever dated, and you swore you would never do this to yourself again. to sum it all up, the relationship turned toxic rather quickly. you almost lost all of your friends, even your two best friends, karina and yeji, who tried their very best to shove some sense into you, but you never listened, delusional enough to believe that you could change him. oh, how naive you were, that’s why you were so easy to manipulate…
apologies came in the form of very expensive gifts, things you had always wanted, or in gentle kisses and touches that slowly wandered and eventually led to the bedroom, where you ended up naked beneath his covers. you thought it was normal, since every relationship had arguments, but that’s not what this was about. it was about toxicity, extreme jealousy, possessiveness, maybe even obsession. the man was a literal freak.
karina practically did a full analysis of him, confirming what she had said the very first time you told her about the problems that occurred between you and him: "he's a psychopath." she had been direct, telling you it wasn’t okay and that you needed to break up with him. yeji agreed with her, always wanting the best for you, adding that "older men always want to date someone younger and it's not just because of looks… please be careful."
you suffered once and learned your lesson. enjoying your vacation, cocktail in hand, while the sea breeze drifts past you, the sun hot against your skin as you lounge on the deckchair, slowly tanning. of course, sometimes you still think about the past; you can’t really stop that after spending two whole years with him. yet even though everything had been bad and suffocating, there had been a good side to him too: tall, handsome, funny and somehow rich. what more could you want?
the other thing you wanted was for your parents and close friends not to find out that you had been dating someone not two or three years older, or even a year younger, but a whole twelve years older. yes, you were twenty-one when you met him, a couple of months before your birthday, through mutual friends. one gathering led to another, and before you knew it, you were dating him, convinced you had finally found the one you were going to marry, the only man who truly knew how to be a man. alas, it turned out he was just another shark in the ocean, ready to strike at its defenseless prey.
it doesn’t matter anymore, since you’re single, genuinely happy, enjoying your summer, shining brighter than the sun itself, and everyone sees you like some kind of eternal sunshine. you finally returned to yourself, only smarter this time, no longer falling for tricks or manipulative tactics. life is good when you don’t have a man bitching in your ear about the outfit you’re about to wear or asking why you were talking to some guy for too long. the waiter, if you must specify, who was simply announcing the lunch menu.
“ah, can’t believe we have to be back at university that soon…” you said, sipping from your drink while idly chewing on the straw. karina was on your left, glued to her phone, while yeji sat on your right, carefully lining up small seashells along her thighs.
“and we’re graduating this year too… but someone decided to study at a different university, breaking our teenage dreams,” karina said as she turned off her phone, glancing at you with a playful look while you rolled your eyes.
“not my fault the one you’re in didn’t have what i wanted.” you took another sip, and yeji giggled softly. “none of us dropped out though, which is an achievement on its own.”
yes, you didn’t study at the same place as them, but that didn’t stop you from hanging out, if anything, there was even more gossip to share. and so the conversations continued, all the way until you started getting ready for dinner, and then for a few more days after that, until eventually you had to go back to seoul and wish each other “good luck for the new last year.”
you really did need some luck, because you had just found out that your favorite professor had retired. you were going to miss the woman; you had been her favorite student, but all good things eventually come to an end. everyone was already sitting in the lecture room. you had heard that the new professor was someone young, but there hadn’t been time to check who exactly he was since they were still fixing schedules and systems. the only thing you knew was that tuesday at nine in the morning was your first lecture with the new professor in question.
“i think he probably used to play basketball or football, i saw him earlier and he’s really tall,” one of the boys said, and the others quickly agreed, while you remained focused on your phone, scrolling through reel after reel, meme after meme. then you overheard the girls whispering nearby, their voices a little more excited. “did you see his hands? and him in general… he’s so fine…”
the problem with having a young professor is exactly that — he was young, and from what everyone was saying, quite attractive too. the other problem appeared the moment everyone finally sat down when the door opened. a tall figure stepped into the room, his style was effortless in a way that made it impossible not to glance twice. a soft gray cardigan hung loosely over his shoulders, the thin knit falling open enough to reveal the clean white t-shirt beneath.
the muted colors helped him blend in, making him look more like a student than a teacher. slim black pants traced the long lines of his frame, the strap of a black crossbody bag thrown diagonally across his chest, and he wore simple sneakers. his black hair fell in soft layers that framed his face, the strands straight and smooth, cut just long enough to brush the tops of his eyebrows and skim the sides of his cheekbones.
you were sitting a little further back, your phone still in your hands. the room buzzed with chatter as people continued talking among themselves until the professor cleared his throat, the sound cutting clean through the noise as he prepared to introduce himself.
“hello everyone, i’m jeong yunho and i’ll be your new photography professor this year.”
your eyes widened instantly, your head snapping up so fast it almost hurt. oh no… houston, we have a problem. you blinked several times, half expecting your vision to clear and reveal someone else entirely. maybe it was just someone with the exact same name, appearance, and voice. unfortunately for you, it wasn’t. why is your ex-boyfriend the new professor? out of all the people in the capital, it had to be him who got the position.
you sat there frozen in complete shock, your mouth slightly open until your deskmate and close university friend, jeongin, gently pressed a finger under your chin to close it as he leaned to whisper, “i guess everyone, including you, just found their new crush, huh?”
what, why, and how? was this some kind of twisted karma? because if it was, you definitely weren’t the one who deserved it. your heart started beating faster, anxiety and something close to fear crawling up. could you run away? maybe copy someone else’s notes, no… you couldn’t. suddenly you wished you were studying metaphysics with karina, because that sounded far more pleasant than this.
“i’d love to get to know all of you,” he continued, smiling as he set his bag on the desk before leaning back against it, arms loosely crossed, while his gaze moved around the room. “so i’ll share a few things about myself. and don’t worry, i won’t make you do anything today. i’ll just introduce the course and explain what i expect from you.”
surprisingly hands immediately began rising with questions. meanwhile, you were still struggling to believe what you were seeing and hearing. he hadn’t changed at all, you had to admit it. he had only gotten more attractive. always taking care of himself and being unfairly pretty, making you remember how two years ago you thought about what your future children would look like... now you want to throw up. forcing yourself to keep your composure, glancing at jeongin and making a slightly grimaced face. yeah, a crush for sure, except you wanted to crush him into pieces.
“how old are you, professor?” someone from the middle rows asked, earning a few curious murmurs from the class, making yunho chuckle, “straight to the personal questions already? alright then. i’m thirty-six.”
everyone was surprised by the answer, and all kinds of reactions rippled through.
“don’t look so shocked,” he added with a small grin. “i promise i’m not that ancient.”
“are you a full-time professor?” another student asked.
“not exactly,” yunho replied, pushing his sleeves up slightly as he spoke, revealing his forearms, “i’m a professional photographer first. i mainly work in editorial and commercial photography such as fashion shoots, campaigns, exhibitions, that sort of thing. teaching is something i enjoy doing on the side, especially with students who are serious about the craft.”
“does that mean you’re going to give us easy grades?” someone joked, making him raise an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth lifting. “absolutely not.”
the class laughed again, a little nervous this time.
“i can be friendly,” he added, shrugging lightly, “but don’t mistake that for me being tolerant. photography is about discipline and perspective. if you’re here just to press a button and hope for the best, you’re going to struggle.”
another hand went up. “so… we won’t pass easily?”
“correct,” nodding his head once. “i expect effort, creativity, and consistency. if you work hard, you’ll do amazing. if you don’t…” he paused briefly before smiling again, “you won’t pass this course by simply showing up and smiling at me. well, at least you’ll get some nice pictures out of the experience.”
more chuckles followed, but the message had landed. the atmosphere quickly became relaxed and comfortable as he answered questions with small jokes. the students were already warming up to him, clearly charmed by how easygoing he was. as you listened to him speak, watched the way he carried himself so seriously and correctly in front of everyone, you couldn’t help but wonder where exactly all that cheerful composure had been when he was with you?
“attendance is mandatory.” and then his gaze settled directly on yours, a faint smirk pulling at his lips as he stared straight into your soul, the one he had almost taken from you a year ago. “of course, if you have to be absent, it’s not a problem, as long as it doesn’t happen often. i know some of you will be at the mall with friends. also i don’t grade by email; everything you do will be shown and discussed in class.”
the entire time he spoke, his eyes kept drifting back to you. when he paced slowly across the front of the room, even when he turned to answer someone else’s question, somehow his attention always circled back. for some reason, you held his gaze instead of looking away, and the longer you stared at him, the more that fear slowly faded until all that remained was pure hatred.
jeongin leaned slightly closer to you, lowering his voice into a teasing whisper. “well there goes our plan of skipping class to eat kfc… or getting more sleep,” he murmured, nudging your arm lightly.
thank god your best friends studied at different universities, otherwise they would have dragged you straight to the administration office and forced you to drop out for real. and honestly… you were starting to think about it yourself. the worst part was that you couldn’t switch the class for anything else. great, truly amazing. you were trapped for an entire semester.
“that’s everything for today,” yunho said after a while, clapping his hands together once as he was done answering questions and talking about cameras, “i won’t keep you any longer. enjoy the rest of your morning.”
chairs scraped across the floor as everyone began packing their things, the room filling with chatter again. you grabbed your purse quickly, already standing up before most people had even processed that the lecture was over. as you walked out with jeongin, you noticed a small crowd forming around the professor’s desk. a couple of boys and girls had already gathered there, asking questions, laughing at something he said, clearly eager to stay a little longer.
you didn’t even glance his way. no goodbye, or a polite “have a nice day”, because he didn’t deserve to have one. you just kept walking toward the door, hoping that you would manage to graduate before the sudden temptation to drop out started looking a little too appealing.
“your analysis lacks depth,” yunho says, placing your paper on his desk, making you scoff, since this is the third time now that he’s returned it for edits. lacks depth, he says… well, you did as well, asshole. if you had to edit one more thing, it honestly wouldn’t be that bad to buy a gun, and no, it definitely wouldn’t be pointed at your head.
every single tuesday he calls on you far too often in class. your assignments always come back covered in detailed comments, red ink everywhere like a declared war on your academics. you swear he’s grading you harder than everyone else, which honestly seems unfair to the people who are actually doing nothing. apparently, you’re the only one being treated like a social experiment.
“and what exactly do i need to change again, professor?” you ask, grinning through your teeth, burying every thought that would probably send you straight to jail under a perfectly fake smile. you’re this close from going insane, feeling that familiar anger rise again, the irritation that always appears when you’re forced to deal with someone you can’t stand.
for the last four weeks, your life has been hell, to say the least. during lectures he’ll ask a question, several hands go up while yours remain fiddling with a ballpoint pen, and yet he always picks you. and the first time you didn’t know the answer, what followed was a casual, “it would be nice to learn things before the test, hm?” which felt like complete humiliation, because beneath that joking tone there had been something that definitely wasn’t a joke.
once you and jeongin arrived ten minutes late, which honestly wasn’t even your fault. what were you supposed to do when your friend insisted on waiting for his coffee while there was already a long line that early in the morning? of course, a comment followed: “please be on time next time.” but when someone else walked in thirty minutes late during the same lecture, there were absolutely no remarks.
that’s exactly why you always come prepared with answers and make sure you’re always on time. you know his tricks far too well. no matter how charming his smile is, how sweetly he talks, how funny and relaxed he seems… it’s just one of his many masks. karina really was right about him being some kind of psychopath.
everyone else, unfortunately, loves the new professor. they talk about his fun classes, how nice he is, and how cool it is that he’s such a professional teaching them new techniques. some of your peers even linger after lectures just to chat with him. meanwhile, you sit there thinking that your older ex should seriously consider enrolling in acting instead of photography, because the performance he’s putting on deserves ample shiny awards proudly displayed on a goddamn mantlepiece.
the whole thing has turned into some twisted cat-and-mouse game. he teases, pushes, and provokes. you glare, don't bite back, and refuse to give him the reaction he clearly wants. despite all of that, he always finds his sneaky ways to make your life a little more miserable.
here and there, he calls you to his desk after class for absolutely no reason. “you should consider approaching a different lens for your next project,” like this couldn’t have easily been written in a single email. or he’ll start explaining camera settings you already know perfectly well, dragging the conversation out while the rest of the class disappears into the hallway.
and god forbid you see him outside the classroom. the moment you notice him walking down the hallway, you immediately pull a perfect one-eighty and walk in the opposite direction because you hate this man so fucking much, you refuse to breathe the same air as him.
what’s more upsetting is that you can’t even tell anyone. because if karina and yeji ever found out that your toxic ex-boyfriend was now your professor, they wouldn’t hesitate for a second before throwing a chair at him.
what you don’t know, however, is that he requested this university job partly because of you. actually, not partly at all, he knew exactly what he was doing. even when you were still together, he knew where you studied and what major you were in, just like you knew about his photography work. of course, teaching also gave him the chance to try something different in his career. and what better opportunity than this? his unbelievably beautiful ex-girlfriend just so happened to be one of his students, completely unplanned.
and it doesn’t stop there, oh no, everything is just starting.
jeongin begins to notice a pattern, which honestly isn’t hard to miss when during class yunho asks another question. probably ten hands rise into the air, but he still chooses you. your friend leans closer to your ear and whispers, “you must be his favorite~”
you stare at the board like you want to burn it down, alongside mister pretty devil himself, who of course, happens to wear clothes that fit his figure perfectly, fuck him honestly. “if i was his favorite, do you think i’d be studying camera obscura in this much detail?”
not to mention the way he addresses you with that smooth voice, softly calling you, “miss (name).” the moment you hear it, it’s game over. you have to respond with “yes, professor,” or “yes, sir,” like some twisted academic roleplay you never signed up for. it makes you want to vomit, bleach both your eyes and your trachea. you hate his guts so much. he has always liked being in control, and now he has it again, at least within the walls of this campus. outside of it, however, he has absolutely none.
when it comes to homework and assignments, everyone else receives short feedback, brief but explanatory enough to understand their mistakes, things like: “good composition” or, “nice lighting” and even, “if you try a black and white effect, it might work better.”
your feedback, on the other hand, is practically a full essay. it could probably qualify as a documentary script because he covers everything, even the tiniest details. he has a ridiculously keen eye for things, which apparently also makes him a professional at being a complete jerk who picks on you for absolutely no reason.
“your framing… well, it’s technically correct,” he muses, tapping the printed photo with his finger exactly where he seems most dissatisfied, “but technically correct isn’t the same as emotionally effective.”
you want to throw your camera at him and shove the lens straight down his throat, as the class sits there admiring him. “wow, professor jeong gives such thoughtful feedback.”
it also happens that he’s constantly spammed with emails from students asking if their work is passable or what more they can do to improve their visuals, so eventually he announces loudly, “if anyone needs extra help, my office hours are wednesday and thursday afternoon.”
later that same day, only you receive an email: “your project concept has potential. come to discuss it.”
you go, of course, because you care about the grade. knocking on the door to his office, and he lets you in, acting like the two of you are complete strangers. the entire conversation stays professional, purely academic, every word measured, but the tension makes your heartbeat faster. after ten painfully long minutes, you finally stand to leave, and just as your hand reaches the door, he says, that same smile on his face, “don’t sabotage your own work out of stubbornness.”
almost slamming the door behind you, but you need to have self-control and not let him know that you are slowly losing your cool.
it goes without saying that the girls in the course absolutely adore him. some of them simp for him, always giggling and gossiping. “the way he looked at me today… he said he is single, so do you think i have a chance?” or “he’s literally the most handsome professor here, why isn’t my boyfriend like him?”
you almost choke hearing that, because you know the other version of him. the one who used to kiss apologies into your neck after fights. the one whose hands knew every point of your body andwho knew you better than you knew yourself. fingers that always seemed to know exactly where to press, where to… why are you even thinking about that?
during one of his lectures, yunho suddenly says something that makes your stomach twist.
“photography is about obsession. you need to want the subject more than anything else. you have to focus on it completely if you want to capture the perfect shot.”
you freeze, eyes widening slightly at his words, because you know exactly how obsessive he can be. yunho glances at you, that smug little smile appears again, and he continues the lecture as if nothing happened.
it’s almost nightfall when the young professor arrived home. he dropped onto the couch, leaving his bag on the floor beside it, his head falling back against the cushions as he stretched his legs over the small wooden table and stretched his arms up above his head.
he exhaled once, then again, tapping his thigh with his fingers in the quiet that filled the apartment. the silence didn’t last long before a small laugh slipped past his lips. he closed his eyes, and of course, you appeared in his mind again. you were constantly there, living somewhere between his thoughts and his heart, occupying space you had no right to anymore.
weren’t you just adorable? each and every time you walked into class, you were dressed better than everyone else, always prepared and looking at him with that sneer that no one else seemed to notice. not even your deskmate, the one he sometimes caught himself glaring at out of pure irritation and jealousy, though he knew jeongin wasn’t any real threat.
you were his muse, his fallen angel, the pliable doll he had once controlled so carefully until two other puppets, your dear best friends, stepped in and cut the marionette strings, ruining the entire show. you had been so kind-hearted and obedient, so sweet and perfectly made for him… but everything had ended so quickly.
yunho knew exactly how to push your buttons; it was too easy for him. he watched every little reaction, the glares you tried to hide behind forced politeness. he fed on it more than he probably should have. still obsessed with you and completely unable to let go, hiding it well enough behind the role of a professor.
you were his one weakness, the sensitive gap between two ribs guarding the heart he had, the one thing that made the control he prided himself on slip through his fingers. he had never stopped loving you, at least not in his own twisted way. goddamnit, you looked like an absolute doll today. the dress, the way your hair fell over your shoulders, the gloss on your lips. were you going on a date with someone? with who? when? where? normally he would have known already. the thought made his jaw tighten slightly, tongue pushing the inside of his cheek. if it wasn’t for the university schedule taking up so much of his time lately, he would have kept better track of things. he hoped you weren’t going on a date with anyone.
reaching for his phone, unlocking it as he opened one of the many accounts he used. your instagram appeared on the screen, and even though your profile was private, that had never really stopped him. the pretty much convincing fake account had been accepted months ago and you had never questioned it. he doesn’t just have one fake account, there are several, each with a different purpose: one follows you, the second follows your friends, the third follows men who comment on your photos.
his thumb scrolled slowly through the posts, stopping at one in particular.
you standing by the ocean with goldensunlight catching your skin, wearing that stupidly beautiful dress that he bought. the same vacation he had surprised you with, and the irony was that he had been the one holding the camera when those pictures were taken, and then his scrolling stopped when he saw you had a story posted.
you sitting across from someone in a restaurant, a glass in your hand, smiling. the caption tagged someone… jaemin? the quiet apartment suddenly didn’t feel so quiet anymore. yunho stared at the screen a little longer than necessary, his fingers tightening slightly around the phone. he decided to do his research, and within minutes, he knew jaemin’s major, his other social media, his schedule and which classes he attends.
“so you were going on dates now, huh?” his hand ran slowly across his face before he leaned back against the couch again, letting out a low breath that almost sounded like a mocking laugh. he shouldn’t care, and what’s left of his sanity knew that, but something in his chest twisted like a scalding hot knife. the truth was simple, and it irritated him more than anything else.
his home still has traces of you. your favorite mug still in the kitchen, a sweater you forgot draped over a chair, the perfume bottle you left behind on the bathroom counter. he hasn’t moved them at all, so when passing them he’ll sometimes pause, observing your belongings like they’re priceless artifacts he forever wants to keep.
a drawer in his desk contains a perfectly organized stack of polaroids. shots he took of you while you were dating, containing multiple domestic situations of you laughing on the beach, asleep on his shoulder and drooling, you looking annoyed while he teased you endlessly, you wearing his hoodie… there’s a lot, some even nudes taken during private moments when you trusted him. nothing is displayed openly, but preserved with a date written on the back, sometimes a short note, things like mine or xoxo.
as a photographer, he justifies it to himself as art. in his mind those photos were the purest versions of you, deleting them would feel like destroying masterpieces. the man doesn’t see anything wrong with it. they were taken with consent back then, and the memories belong to him, so he never questions keeping them.
though, admittedly, yunho still adds to the collection with printed screenshots from your instagram stories. blurry shots of you crossing campus, a candid photo of you mid-laughter taken from far away during a university event. he keeps a hidden folder on his computer, where inside are hundreds of photos and videos, not just from when you dated, but also recent ones.
sometimes he records his lectures for teaching review, as the university demands, and in private, he’ll rewind parts where you speak. listening again, and again, and again, so he can get off with his dick in hand, trying to chase his high from being turned on by watching you argue with him in class. she still looks at me the same way… anger is better than indifference. your hatred is still attention, and attention for men like him is oxygen.
he studies those images and compares them to how you look in class now. noticing the differences in the way you dress, how you glare at him and refuse to look at him too long… she pretends she doesn’t belong to me anymore.
also your old professor who retired? yunho knew her; she was a well-known photographer in seoul, a colleague of his whose exhibitions he had attended more than once over the years. during a gallery event, the two of them talked for a while, as she casually mentioned that she would be retiring soon and that the university needed someone to take her place. then she also mentioned that one of her best students would be graduating soon. the way she spoke about that student caught yunho’s attention immediately. the woman even pulled out her phone, scrolling through photos from one of the class exhibitions before zooming in on a familiar face — yours.
the elder woman happily explained how talented you were, the potential you had and how you were easily one of her favorites.
that was when he applied to the university, under her recommendation.
yunho finally stood from the couch and walked toward his bedroom. he opened the drawer of his bedside table, reaching inside until his fingers brushed against a familiar photograph: a polaroid from two years ago.
you were laughing in it, leaning slightly toward a cake with him beside you on your 22nd birthday. the faint lipstick mark you had playfully pressed onto the corner of the photo was still there, and he ran his thumb slowly over it. he just stared at it, placing the polaroid carefully on the nightstand beside his phone and the nightlamp. when he finally lay down under the covers, the photograph remained within reach, the faint outline of your smile visible in the dim light.
he closed his eyes, hoping, as he drifted toward sleep, that maybe tonight you would appear in his dreams.
fridays are always a godsend, especially after sitting through a lecture with the devil the day before. anything feels better after that, especially when you’re out for lunch with jaemin. sunlight spilling through the windows, soft chatter around you, and for the first time in a while you feel at ease. he insisted on paying, of course, saying something about how you “deserve to be spoiled properly,” and honestly… you didn’t argue.
he knows what you like. not in a suffocating way that feels like he’s memorized you without permission. but in a very gentle and attentive way.
“are you free tomorrow?” he asks, stealing a bite of your cake like it’s his.
“i wish,” you sigh. “i have to attend a birthday party with my parents.”
“mm,” he hums, pretending to think, though the smile on his lips gives him away. “guess i’ll have to reschedule my very important plan of kidnapping you for the evening.”
you chuckle softly, taking another bite of the sweet treat. “you’re not funny.”
“i’m hilarious,” he corrects you, lifting his index finger. “you’re just in denial.”
rolling your eyes, but you can’t hide the smile that appears on your face. the thing you really liked about jaemin was how sweet-talking and funny he was, knowing what to say at any given moment. he has this mischievous side, but he was also very loving and attractive.
“i was going to ask you to come over,” he adds more quietly, almost shy beneath the teasing. “but… another time.”
that makes you pause, because he doesn’t push or corner you. more so, never demands you to be with him and cancel any plans you have already made with someone else. it’s like an option, not an expectation. there’s no hidden trap set ahead of time for you to fall into.
“maybe next weekend?” you echo, that playful tone came as you asked him, looking at him for a moment, and then down at the already finished cake. and that’s enough for him. his bright and boyish grin returns instantly, like he didn’t just make your heart skip.
“see? progress. next thing you know, you’ll admit you like me.”
“don’t get ahead of yourself,” you warn, pointing your fork at him.
“too late, i already did.”
“jaemin–”
“what?” he leans in slightly, eyes sparkling with that same mischievousness. “you gonna hit me?”
you narrow your eyes. “if you keep talking, maybe.”
he gasps dramatically, pretending to be scared for his life, “not the man-hater queen threatening violence again.”
“i am not a man-hater!”
“you are when it comes to me.”
“you’re annoying.”
“and who is paying the bill?”
that shuts you up completely. instead of teasing you more, he just smiles, playfully winking at you, letting you have that moment.
after lunch, he insists on walking you to the mall so you can meet up with karina and yeji. it’s not far, twenty minutes at most, but he acts like it’s a whole event, a met gala of sorts, and you should be escorted like the princess you are. you walk side by side, hands brushing at first, then naturally finding each other, fingers lacing together. the weather is warm for the autumn season. leaves crunch when people pass by, cars hum in the distance, and for a while, you forget about yunho and about everything.
jaemin talks about random things like how he and jeno tried to summon ghosts as kids, jokes about what he saw online, and somehow, you’re laughing again without having to worry or trying to come up with excuses or reasons of how you can be so happy when something else gives you joy? he looks at you with adoration in his eyes and that’s what makes you feel safe.
when you reach the mall, he slows down, not letting go of your hand immediately. he lingers for a second, like he wants to say something else, then just smiles.
“have fun, man-hater queen.”
“thank you, cake thief.”
he laughs, finally letting go but not before leaving a quick, soft kiss on your cheek. “text me when you get home,” he says, and you nod, a little stunned by this bold yet sweet gesture. he walks off with a smile, and your best friends are already waiting for you inside at the usual meeting spot.
the moment karina spots you, she’s already sprinting, grabbing yeji by the wrist and dragging her along like she’s on a mission. it’s been weeks since you last saw each other, university has been kicking all of your asses, and you didn’t realize how much you needed this until now.
“(name), babe, how are you? you don’t know how much we missed you,” karina squeals, letting go of yeji just to throw her arms around you in a near-death hug. you laugh, breath knocked out of you for a second before hugging her back.
“i missed you, too,” you manage, and then yeji is right there, pulling you into her own hug, softer but just as tight. “and you don’t know what i have to tell you.”
“jaemin?” they ask in unison, already cocking their brows up.
“how did you know?”
yeji nodded her head towards the glass storefront behind you. “we can literally see you from outside.”
“he walked you here, didn’t he?” karina snorts and you don’t even deny it. that’s enough to send both of them into giggles as they hook their arms through yours, dragging you further into the mall.
the next hour follows it’s rhythm. gossip, teasing, overlapping conversations, with you telling them about jaemin and the date earlier, how attentive he is without being overbearing. sometimes you catch yourself thinking you don’t deserve someone like that. someone so patient and sweet, but karina shuts that down immediately, while yeji nods along, reminding you that the bare minimum just feels extraordinary after what you’ve been through.
what you don’t tell them… is everything else. you don’t mention yunho, not a single word leaves your mouth. it sits somewhere in the back of your mind, tucked away like it doesn’t even exist. they deserve to know, you know they do, but you don’t even know where to start, or how they’d react. and… you’re not ready for that, to lose them, so you stay quiet. maybe sometimes silence is the solution.
you move from store to store, bags slowly piling up in your hands. makeup is a priority, you’re running low, and soon enough, you’re standing in front of rows of lipsticks, testing shades against your skin. just for a second in your peripheral vision, you catch a tall figure, standing a few meters away. you turn your head, and nothing. you blink, frowning slightly. that’s… weird. you could’ve sworn someone was there.
“(name), come here, we found the new face masks,” yeji pops up out of nowhere, grabbing your arm and pulling you along before you can think about it too much. “they’re not even that expensive like everyone says.”
letting yourself be dragged away as the rest of the day passes in a blur of chatter and shopping bags. trying on clothes and spending money like you were the granddaughter of a very wealthy ceo. maybe in a past life you were rich, because right now, money seems to disappear the second it touches your hands.
by the time you finally sit down for coffee, you take a slow sip of your ice-cold drink, letting the sweetness settle on your tongue as you listen to karina and yeji talk. your social battery was starting to fade, and you were also running out of things to gossip about, content on just listening instead of talking.
for a moment, everything is fine as it should be, until you get that feeling again, like someone’s watching. you glance up, eyes scanning the space around you, but everything looks normal. people talking, walking, laughing, nothing out of place…. you shift slightly in your seat, fingers tightening around your cup. probably your brain is messing up with you after the tiring day you had.
the day started on like that — him following, and you being completely unaware.
he saw you earlier and was there during the whole date. he doesn’t hate jaemin even if jealousy spikes, but he quickly calms himself down. the younger man is just a temporary placeholder, a distraction you picked up because you didn’t know what else to do with the space yunho left behind. his tongue presses briefly against the inside of his cheek, a habit surfacing whenever irritation starts to settle in. he already knows what to order; he’s been here before… with you. at this restaurant, same table across the room, known for its delicate pasta and overly sweet desserts you always claimed you wouldn’t finish.
it’s wrong, not because you’re laughing and enjoying yourself, but because it’s not with him.
he watches the way jaemin leans in when he talks, how quickly he smiles, casually reaching for your plate, how comfortable he acts like he’s already earned a place he doesn’t deserve. jaemin doesn’t notice the smaller things like the shift in your posture, the way your fingers tighten around your fork when you’re thinking too much, the way your eyes drift when your mind starts wandering. he sees what’s in front of him, nothing more.
yunho sees everything.
he doesn’t need to chase you. he never will. you come back on your own. anger, frustration, curiosity, it doesn’t matter what drives you, it always leads back to him. because no one else will ever know how to handle you the way he does. he doesn’t want a version of you that’s easy. he wants the one who pushes and bites back to keep the spark alive.
you think you hate him, he can see it in your eyes. hatred means you still care; you react because you are affected. indifference would be a problem. but you’re not indifferent, just confused, pretending not to see what’s already there. he missed you. not just your voice, your presence, or your body. he missed this, the way you draw him in without even trying, like a moth to a flame.
he could have walked up to you right now. say your name to strike up a conversation as your professor. what a coincidence, right? you and he in the same place, at the same time, ordering the same food. your expression would drastically change; he knows exactly what it would look like. he’s imagined it enough times, but he doesn’t move.
he doesn’t rush things anymore, learning that the hard way. you need to feel like you have space and the freedom to choose. so he waits, and that’s fine, yunho understands. after all, you’re already his… you just haven’t admitted it to yourself yet.
it was getting late, and when you finally said goodbye to your friends, he’s already on the move. you don’t seem to notice how he chooses the same subway train, standing where the reflection in the window does the work for him, watching you through the blur of the passing lights and shadows.
you’re on your phone for a while, and by the movement of your fingers, you are scrolling through instagram or tiktok. then you are staring ahead, you always get like this when your energy runs out. he knows the exact moment your thoughts start drifting and when exhaustion takes over.
someone dares to look at you for too long. yunho burns holes with bloodshot eyes as the stranger looks away. the train slows at your stop, and you step out. he follows by matching your speed, always out of sight. footsteps always a few seconds behind, stops when you stop. he’s walked this path more times than you’d ever guess. yunho’s gaze moves over everything on the street: the corners, people walking and the cars passing by, the distance between you and anything that could get too close.
you reach your building and pause for a second, opening your purse for your keys. he’s already stopped, waiting for you to step inside. the door closes behind you, as he stays where he is. his eyes lift, scanning the building, counting without thinking how long it would take to reach your floor… it should be one minute and twenty-three seconds.
he waits a little longer, enough to see the second light flicker in your bedroom. it’s the same every night with him walking you back home. what if you hadn’t come back alone? what if some creep had followed you? that wouldn’t have ended well, not for them.
his shoulders finally relax as he turns away. to anyone else, that would be the end of it. just a random man on the street… even if his home is in the opposite direction, thirty-five minutes away. hands sliding into his pockets, the quiet jingle of metal breaks the silence with each step. a small cluster of keys, shifting against each other, and one tucked among them does not belong to him. his thumb brushes over it absentmindedly; it has always been there.
yunho still has a key to your place. sometimes he visits when you’re not there, and he always knows when that is. why does he do it? even the divine beings don’t seem interested in answering that, and they don’t want to interfere either. what is he doing in your apartment? nothing, he goes there when he wants to rest. he doesn’t move things around or leave signs. he just sits on your couch and enjoys the atmosphere you created.
your bedroom door stays open, so he doesn’t need to enter to know if anything has changed. he’s like a ghost, maybe a poltergeist, one that doesn't haunt by moving objects but stealing them instead.
he opens drawers sometimes. the most familiar one is always the same — the drawer with your underwear. never takes anything new or expensive, always the ones at the bottom. old pairs, the pieces you don’t think about anymore, and you wouldn’t even notice are missing.
it’s proximity, a way for him to be close to you, or for you to be close to him.
in the living room, there’s a plush toy you never threw away. he gave it to you when you celebrated your six-month anniversary. it still sits in its place, untouched and harmless-looking. except it isn’t. inside it, carefully hidden where no one would think to look, is a small camera. he watches from time to time, when he needs to. nothing invasive, just enough for him to see you when you’re home.
someone has to make sure you get home safe, even if you don’t know it, and if it has to be him, then so be it.
your father had a lot of friends, and it just so happened that your family was invited to mr. kim’s 50th birthday, an anniversary celebrated in a rather grand and luxurious way. honestly, it felt more like a wedding than a birthday… but either way, it was still an occasion for drinking. people of notoriety greeted each other left and right, laughter and chatter filling the air, until the man of the hour finally made his entrance, the one who had every right to celebrate until the very last drop and bite were gone.
“if this isn’t my one and only goddaughter?” it should probably be mentioned that this kind and ridiculously rich man was your godfather. no blood relation, but he had always been like an uncle to you. the affluent one who spoiled you endlessly as a child, giving you everything you wanted, because clearly your parents failed to treat you like the princess you deserved to be.
“happy birthday, uncle minseok!” you said, stepping forward to hug him, genuinely happy to see him. the gifts were still left by the entrance, but you always had your own little privileges. “this is for you, i hope you like it… even if you are getting old.”
inside the small wrapped bag was a simple package of marshmallows, as your mother immediately noticed, lightly tapping your shoulder. “(name), this is inappropriate.”
“calm down,” minseok laughed warmly, taking the bag from your hands without a second thought. “she knows exactly what to give someone.” he glanced at you with a grin, because this candy has become very significant during the years, something small but from the heart. “thank you, my dear. you’ll get the second piece of cake.”
the evening continued with drinks being passed around, conversations flowing about business, and whatever gossip caught your ear. at some point, your godfather rested a hand on your shoulder, “come, there’s someone i want you to meet,” he said casually, guiding you through the crowd. “a very dear friend of mine, and an excellent photographer. you might learn a thing or two.”
you didn’t think much of it at first, nodding as you followed along, heels clicking softly against the polished floor, your drink still in hand. this would be just another introduction for you to smile at a stranger. this would hopefully be someone you could form a connection with to help you in the future when you do decide to pursue a career, but just like that, everything in your body turned upside down. your entire world tilted and your pulse quickened, because of course it had to be him.
dressed like absolute sin in a suit that made it painfully obvious he knew exactly what he was doing. professional and put together… but unlike on campus, where he toned it down by being casual and relatable to young people your age, here amongst people closer to his age and high calibre, he wasn’t holding back. the clothes fit him perfectly, outlining his frame in a way that makes you force yourself not to react — masking your expression into something neutral that doesn't scream what the hell are you doing here.
“yunho,” minseok called out, catching his attention. “ah, perfect timing, indeed. i want you to meet someone.”
yunho turned, and for a split second, his eyes met yours. there it was, that familiar recognition, gone just as quickly as it appeared. his own expression of shock smoothed out instantly, slipping into that same composed mask you had grown to despise.
“this is my goddaughter, (name),” minseok continued proudly, squeezing your shoulders by the exposed skin your dress created. “she’s studying photography as well.”
you swallowed and played along, like you were meeting him for the very first time. as if you didn’t know the way his hands felt, or how his voice sounded when it wasn’t calm and controlled, the way he used to look at you when no one else was around… as if you hadn’t let him take your virginity.
“it’s a pleasure to meet you,” you said, offering your hand with a polite smile that stung like acid to hold. his gaze lingered for just a moment too long before he took it. warm and bigger than yours, soft too, just like it always has been, perfectly made to fit.
“the pleasure is all mine, miss (name),” yunho replied, smiling at you, and god, you hate how natural he makes it sound, like you’re nothing more than a stranger he’s just been introduced to. but of course, he doesn’t stop there. the pad of his thumb brushes lightly against your knuckles before he lets go.
it wasn’t awkward, more like… unsettling in a way that made your skin itch. it wasn’t just that you saw him every week at the university, no, now he was here too, at an event where you were supposed to have fun, not stand there thinking of at least five different ways to get away with his murder. your godfather, completely unaware of the tension, patted your shoulder before turning to yunho. “i’ll leave her in your care, and (name), you might want to take some photos now that it’s still not too crowded. have fun, kiddos.”
and just like that, minseok walked away, leaving you alone with the man you hated the most.
your blood started boiling like molten lava almost instantly. the fake smile dropped the second his back disappeared into the crowd, your nails digging into your palms as you inhaled slowly through your nose and you stared at yunho with pure and undisguised hatred.
"you know it's not very polite to stare." he was fixing something on the camera, or looking at photos, you didn't know, but you knew one thing, and that was that you hated him. “so, how is your project going? did you fix what i told you to?”
you stiffen for a split second, your smile tightening as you look at him, because of course he would say that here, of all places, since he just couldn’t resist torturing outside campus.
“i wasn’t aware this was a consultation,” you reply sweetly, but your tone carries that hostile warning of a bark that tells him you are about to bite like an angry dog.
“old habits,” he hummed softly, deleting a few blurred pictures.
“yeah?” you shot back, one eyebrow rising, “then maybe you should work on dropping a few of them.”
“that explains a lot.” the way he calmly answers makes you want to punch him.
“explains what exactly? you enjoying your little performance? you’re very convincing, i’ll give you that.”
“i don’t know what you mean,” he says lightly, though the way he looks at you says the exact opposite. liar. something about the way you’re talking back instead of ignoring him, clearly tells him one thing — you haven’t moved on completely.
“you still get worked up so easily,” murmuring almost to himself, but loud enough for you to hear.
“you still talk too much,” you snapped, and he took a step closer, enough to close some of the distance, his presence more noticeable and intimidating, and you sometimes forget how tall he actually is.
a small smile tugged at his lips because, truth be told, he was enjoying this far too much. his eyes were scanning your face, studying every reaction of the grimace you tried so hard to hide. you scoffed, crossing your arms, tapping your freshly done nails against your skin, irritation written all over, and for a moment neither of you spoke. the noise of the party faded into the background as the tension stretched like silk almost pulled to the point of tearing between you.
then yunho exhaled softly, removing the camera strap from his head, he closed the lens cap and put it back in the small bag, leaving it on the desk he evidently used for work here.
“what about we take a walk?” yunho suddenly suggests, tone light, sounding harmless and innocent. “talk a few things out. it seems like you have a lot to say.”
you should have said no. you should’ve walked straight back to your parents while ignoring him like you’ve been fighting tooth and nail to do, but somehow… you didn’t. maybe it was the tone of his voice, coaxing you with the way he said it like a suggestion, not a command, even though it somehow felt like one. or maybe it was just him, knowing exactly what to say, with just the right intonation for invitation.
“fine,” you muttered, big mistake.
he guided you through the venue, away from the main crowd and toward a quieter part of the hotel where the noise began to dull and the lights softened because fewer people meant fewer distractions. now it’s just you and him, the way he’s been craving and aching for.
then he stopped.
reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes. you frowned slightly as he pulled out a cigarette, placing it between his lips before lighting it and exhaling slowly, white smoke curling between the two of you before dissipating into the air.
“you’re smoking again?”
“you’re staring again.”
“i’m judging,” you correct. “i thought you quit.”
“i did,” he agrees, “for you.”
then he takes another drag, eyes never leaving yours, but you know you were the main reason, if not the only one, for him to quit. you hated the smell and the taste that transferred once you shared a kiss. or two. or dozen… neither of you ever bothered to count.
“stress does things, work, life… you find ways to relieve the tension,” he continues after a moment, carefully choosing every word to get a reaction out of you. he shares just enough, mentioning that the workload and the pressure made him go back to this bad habit, skimming over the real reason without ever actually saying it — the break up. of course, he wouldn’t admit that to you. he never gives you the full truth, only carefully selected pieces.
and as he speaks, you find yourself checking him out. you feel steel heavy shame that you are, but you can’t help it. he looks… good. no, that’s an understatement. dressed like he stepped out of some magazine, a black coat draped over his broad shoulders, a clean white button-up tucked neatly under a fitted black vest, finished off with a loosely worn black satin tie. as much as you want to deny it, to lie to yourself, roll your eyes… you can’t. when it comes to jeong yunho, all bets are off, because he’s so fucking hot.
yunho stubs out the cigarette, pressing it into the ashtray beside him. you’re both sitting on the edge of a small staircase, tucked away from most of the guests, the noise of the party distant like background static.
then, without much thought, he shrugs off his coat and throws it over his shoulder. the movement is simple, but it draws your attention to his rolled sleeves, exposing his slim but defined forearms, his veins faintly visible under the skin. his cords of muscle hold subtle tension that make it really goddamn difficult not to look. it gives him this quiet intensity, composed on the surface but never fully restrained underneath. a wildfire raging beneath a perfectly composed surface.
you really try to look away, only to realize something else, that you didn’t bring a jacket. you’re wearing a short black dress, feminine shoulders bare, the evening air cooler than you expected. it hadn’t mattered before since you won’t stay outside the venue all night, and yet before you can even think about it properly, warmth settles around you.
snapping out of your thoughts, your gaze shifts downward to see his coat now draped around your shoulders. when you look up, yunho is already adjusting his sleeves again, completely unfazed, like the gesture means nothing at all.
“so,” he says casually, sitting down beside you on the staircase, spreading his legs slightly as he leans back on one hand, the other idly flipping his metal lighter open and closed, “graduating soon, right? any plans career-wise?”
it catches you off guard. you almost scoff, because wasn’t he the one who suggested this, the one who said you had a lot to say. the truth is, you don’t, at least not to him. now he’s the one guiding the conversation somewhere… normal. like so normal that you’re not sitting next to your ex, who is actively messing with your head.
“i’m planning to try abroad.”
“where?”
“i’m not going to tell you,” you glance at him, narrowing your eyes slightly. “don’t want you suddenly becoming my coworker.”
that earns a chuckle from him. “you really think i’d follow you that far?”
you don’t answer, because you’re not entirely sure he wouldn’t. he makes it very clear that he is not talking about your career. the silence settles again, but it doesn’t feel empty. it feels intentional, as if he’s waiting for the exact right moment to put the puzzle piece into place.
you shift slightly on the step, exhaling through your nose, trying to ignore how aware you are of him sitting so close beside you. the party noise is distant now, blurred into nothing. now it’s just the two of you, tucked away in a space that suddenly feels too small… then he speaks again.
“are you seeing someone right now?”
your eyes flick to him immediately, but you don’t give him the satisfaction of a proper answer. “none of your business.”
no reaction at first, just the soft click of his lighter opening again. the small flame appears, disappears, and flickers back to life as he plays with it absentmindedly. it’s almost hypnotic, the rhythm of it: small flame, bigger flame, gone again. he’s buying time, or making you sit in discomfort a little longer than necessary. you stare at it longer than you should, trying to steady yourself. it’s stupid, but it gives your eyes somewhere else to go and your mind something else to focus on.
he exhales quietly, then the lighter closes with a soft snap, and he looks at you.
“jaemin, right?” he says like he’s commenting on the weather. “he seems like a nice guy, but doesn’t seem like your type.”
everything in you stops, freezes like you’ve just touched a block of ice. your entire body goes still for half a second too long andyour expression betrays you before you can even think to control it. it’s shock at first, then disbelief, because you never told him a name, or anything of the sort. never even showed signs of you being involved with someone else.
your mind starts racing immediately — how does he know that? how long has he known? what else does he know?
only a few people know you’ve been seeing jaemin, and yes, you do post stories with him just like you do with the other people you trust, people who wouldn’t… your fingers tighten unconsciously around the fabric of his coat still resting on your shoulders.
“how do you know that?” your voice comes out lower than you intended. yunho tilts his head slightly, observing a reaction he already predicted, since just confirmed something he was quietly testing. a faint smirk pulls at his lips, he shrugs, leaning back on one hand as his gaze stays fixed on you.
“you’re the campus's new hotshot couple,” lies, obvious lies. you know it, he knows it, but the confidence in his voice makes it sound real. rumors, gossip, students talking, maybe someone exaggerating something they saw, but nothing that should have him perfectly informed with a name.
you don’t even realize your grip has tightened until the fabric of his coat shifts slightly under your fingers.
“relax, i’m not interfering.” but his tone says otherwise, “you can date whoever you want.”
you can't because you are mine.
yunho doesn’t move away while talking; he closes the distance slowly instead, testing exactly how far you’ll let him go before you stop him. knee brushing yours, nudging you teasingly, he doesn’t break eye contact, and doesn’t give you space to believe or question anything. because the way he says it doesn’t sound like permission, it sounds like ownership he’s pretending not to enforce.
“you lost the right to care about who i see a long time ago.”
oh?
amused by how you’re trying so hard to stand your ground, trembling just beneath the surface. it’s beautiful like that, so unfiltered and honest. aren’t you the prettiest little angel when you’re angry? when you’re fighting him, resisting him, convincing yourself you’ve moved on. it’s almost impressive, and adorable. your will is always too big for your own good, too loud to stay buried, always insisting things should go your way, even when reality bends differently once he is in the picture.
he’s memorizing it all over again with the way your breath changes when he gets too close, the way you refuse to look away even when it would be easier. your eyes are the most dangerous part of you, he decides. they’re full of everything at once — malice, frustration, sadness you pretend isn’t there, excitement you refuse to acknowledge. a fire that burns brighter than the weak flicker of the lighter between his fingers earlier. a fire that could bring him to his knees if he let it.
but he won’t, he knows how to protect himself.
he knows you better than anyone else ever has. better than those two annoying best friends of yours, than jeongin, better than jaemin, even your parents. better than the version of yourself you try to present to the world.
yunho doesn’t need to chase because he knows your anger will bring you to him. he doesn’t need to beg, either. not when pulling the right strings of your nervous system is far more satisfying, watching you unravel and logic slipping away piece by piece until all that’s left is emotion, exactly how he wants you. he doesn’t need you rational, he needs you emotional. to destabilize you until you’re reacting instead of analyzing, feeling instead of understanding, until you’re his again in everything but name.
your thoughts slow, your focus breaks, you start reacting instead of thinking… just like he planned.
it’s sudden when it happens, you grab his collar, and before he can even fully process it, you pull him in and kiss him. not what people would call romantic, it’s out of pure spite and the need to shut him up. it’s messy, all teeth and frustration and months of things left unsaid. it’s the words i hate you pressed into his mouth like a punishment.
yunho doesn’t take control immediately. he lets you bite his lip and put all that frustration finally into something tangible, lets you pretend this is just about physically shutting him up. yunho lets you have your moment of control, an illusion of victory, because he can feel you’re not over him… should the fact that he isn’t over you either be good or bad news?
only then does he finally respond, when your breath catches in that familiar way, something in him snaps as he kisses you back. the taste is noticeably bitter, ashy, and slightly stale. a trace of smoke still clings to him, dry against your tongue with that faint chemical edge, following the chemical romance between you that has no clear answer or reaction to this day, only that it is intense.
his lips part slightly against yours, the movement slow, testing. he deepens the kiss, blurring the line between hesitation and intent, one hand sliding up to your neck, fingers resting there, guiding rather than forcing. he pulls you closer, and the way your breath stutters in the gorgeous column of your throat, the way your body reacts to his body without thinking, tells him everything he needs to know.
then, just as suddenly, he stops. not pulling away completely, neither of you really wants to break it, but he’s the one who finally pulls back first. you’re left staring at each other, chests inviting air in and out in hurried paces to catch your breaths.
“you look at me like you hate me…” and doesn’t seem like you want to stop, though. “but you always looked at me like that.”
there’s something in his expression, satisfaction, like your reaction alone is enough. your breathing is uneven, lips slightly parted, and you hate how aware you are of him again: how close he is and how familiar it feels. your lipstick is slightly smudged, some of it transferred onto him, and the sight alone makes something twist in your stomach.
because you want more, but you don’t want to want him.
this is wrong on so many levels, kissing your ex out of nowhere, yet your body remembers him far too well, as it responds far too much. it’s frustrating, confusing, and addicting in a way you wish it wasn’t. what are you even supposed to do now?
“this isn’t a good place…” he says after a moment, glancing briefly toward the direction of the party before looking back at you. “…unless you want an audience.”
and suddenly it feels like the decision is yours, except it isn’t. because the way he looks at you says he already knows what you’ll choose.
by the time you are fully recovered his hand is already around yours, fingers lacing, as his grip doesn’t loosen, not once, he already knows you won’t pull away. he starts walking and you’re just following along without questioning it.
away from the crowd, into the quieter parts of the hotel, the lobby is nearly empty, the noise fading behind you as he moves straight for the elevators. he presses the button, and as if perfectly timed, the doors slide open to an empty cabin.
you step inside, and the moment the doors close behind you, the space feels smaller and tighter. mirrors line the walls, reflecting everything from every angle. no matter where you look, it’s him first and only then, you.
yunho and mirrors are a dangerous combination, because he doesn’t just want to feel you, he wants to watch you feel him and memorise the way you submit to his touch each and every time he manages to catch you. standing behind you, his taller frame hovering close, his chest warm against your back even if he doesn’t fully press himself in. still, if you lean back even slightly, he knows he has you.
his lips brush your shoulder, not quite a kiss, more like a promise of one. he makes you aware of everything — your breathing, the expression on your pretty face, how close you really are to him. one hand slides low, brushing your thigh right where the hem of your dress ends, while the other rises to your face. his soft fingers tilt your chin upward. he doesn’t need to do much to make you go insane; his voice does most of the work, not his body.
“all that attitude, and look at you now,” murmuring right next to your ear. the hand resting on your thigh doesn’t move further, and somehow you react more to what almost happens than to what actually does. as if hypnotized, trying to hold onto some sense of control, but it’s slipping fast, because your eyes betray you again. “is that really how someone looks when they want me gone?”
he doesn’t think of himself as a freak about it. he just likes watching, prefers you vulnerable like this. his eyes never leave your reflection, taking in the way your lips part, your lashes flutter, the way you try to close your eyes against how overwhelming it feels.
“don’t close your eyes, doll.” his voice is low, slightly rougher, his fingers tightening just a little on your jaw. you forgot how much you loved being called that, and how much it didn't help your attempts at resistance. “i want you to see what i’m doing to you.”
the hand on your leg slips beneath your dress until it finds the soft fabric of your panties, and you’re already so wet. his fingers press against you through the material, enough to make your breath hitch while moving in a slow and controlled rhythm as you squirm in result. your back arches finally pressing into him, and he exhales softly against your ear, completely obsessed with the sight of you falling apart in front of him.
“y-yun–” his name halfway leaves your lips in a soft whine, breaking into something breathier when he moves just right. he loves the way you say his name like it belongs in your mouth, and believe it or not, it’s already tattooed on your skin with invisible ink.
“keep looking.” his thumb brushes over your bottom lip, guiding your attention back to the mirror. your thighs tremble, and your hands clutch at his forearm. the way your body reacts instantly, the way he has literal heart eyes when you make that sound again, his dick pulsating at the sight as he leans down slightly, lips grazing the shell of your ear. “see how pretty you look like this?”
you move without thinking, pressing back against him, your legs drawing closer together as if it might help, when his name slips from your lips again, your eyes glossy, barely staying open like he told you to, he smiles faintly against your skin.
“good girl.” but being good doesn’t mean you get everything. if anything, it means the opposite, because he’s making you want it first. you feel it before you can think about it. he could push you further, make you admit things, but he knows you won’t, not yet.
a soft ding breaks through the moment. his gaze flicks up toward the numbers, 10th floor.
the doors are about to open, the risk of someone being there and catching you… and just like that, he stops. he withdraws, leaving you aching, breath uneven, your body still caught in the aftermath of something unfinished. the doors slide open, and thankfully, no one’s there. the hallway is empty; most guests are still downstairs celebrating, others are already asleep. not that he would care much… or maybe he would. yunho has never liked sharing or the idea of anyone else seeing what he considers his.
he reaches toward you again, and for a second you think… but no. his hand slips into the coat you’re still wearing, pulling out the key card from the inner pocket.
“come on, angel… we don’t have all night.” all night. you don’t even know what time it is. your purse is still downstairs, abandoned at the table with your parents, your phone out of reach, “need help walking?”
he asks, and that more than anything, pulls you back to reality. because when you glance at the mirror again, you finally see yourself properly. flushed and out of breath. your dress is slightly ridden up, your lips parted, your entire body still buzzing with heat that hasn’t gone anywhere. fuck. you’re left standing there, completely worked up, and he’s the only one who can do anything about it.
you know this is wrong, but your body isn’t listening. the empty hallway was your chance to leave, yet your feet never moved. you should have walked away, right then and there… so why didn’t you? zoning out and staring into the void of nothingness, thinking how no one can even compare and you hate that it’s still him who makes you lose your sanity. with yunho, it was never just attraction and maybe that’s the problem. you hate him. you hate this. you hate that you don’t hate it enough.
telling yourself you still have a choice, only that you don’t. because somehow, without realizing it, you’re already following him to his room. the door closes behind you with a quiet click that feels louder than it should, and suddenly you don’t move.
you don’t sit. you just stand there, near the edge of the bed, fingers fidgeting with the ends of the sleeves, pulling the fabric over your hands as if it might calm you somehow. your breathing still hasn’t settled, your body is still carrying everything from moments ago.
he moves further into the room as if you being here is expected and inevitable. his hand reaches up to his collar, his eyes don’t leave you, though, not once. fingers hooking under the knot of his tie, loosening it slowly, sliding it from around his neck, the fabric slipping through his fingers before he lets it hang loosely in his hand. he stands there too, looking at your posture, and the way you haven’t dared to sit or do anything at all.
his lips twitch slightly when your fingers pause for half a second, then continue. you don’t dare to talk, you don’t trust your voice right now. he takes a step closer, then another, slowly closing the space between you until it feels suffocating again, and you’re aware of him in the same way you were in the elevator.
“take a seat,” he says softly, “you don’t have to stand there like that,” and you obey.
you sit right at the edge of the bed, back straight, still clutching the sleeves, as yunho watches you for a moment longer. then, without breaking eye contact, he lowers himself not onto the bed, but down, kneeling in front of you.
it shouldn’t feel the way it does, as if he were praying to his goddess for a blessing of a lifetime. it should be unsettling, he chose this position for a reason; he wants to be right here, close enough to see every reaction you try to hide. his hands rest lightly against your legs at first, thumbs caressing the flesh as you tense, but don’t pull away.
“do you know…” fingers sliding slightly higher, tracing and craving, then there’s a pause. “how hard it was not to think about you?” not crossing any line too fast, he continued, eyes fixed on your face, “to see you every week, and pretend we are just strangers?”
his razor sharp gaze softens for what you can barely count a millisecond, before it shifts back to its sinister depths, something that looks a little too close to obsession.
“should i? or are you going to pretend you don’t want this?”
beneath the dress, fingers slipping under the fabric as he hooks into your waistband and starts to pull it down. you are leaning in just slightly, giving him the access he’s already taken. that’s all the permission he needs. the delicate lace follows, sliding down until it pools at your feet, as you gently kick them fully aside with the help of your heels.
"last chance to leave, angel... say or do something if you want me to stop.”
holding himself back, and it’s taking more effort than he wants to admit. his gaze drags over you, taking in every detail like he’s been starved of it.
you look the same. no, you like you never left him at all.
his jaw tightens faintly because god, he missed you. no matter how much time passed or how many distractions he surrounded himself with, nothing and no one helped. they didn’t look right or feel right, they simply weren’t you.
you changed, of course you did. your hair, your style, the perfume, even the way you carry yourself now, like you’ve grown into something that bites back.
but he sees through it: you are just a little sheep wearing the wolf’s head.
and he is the wolf wearing a sheep’s clothing.
something restless stirring beneath his skin, the way it creeps in, settles deep, refuses to leave. he’s been stuck on a feeling, just can't stop, once ain't enough.
his thumb presses just a little firmer, grounding himself, because he might actually lose that thin thread of control he’s still pretending to have.
“i hate you.” you say but your legs part for him. his head tilts at that, tongue pressing into his cheek, amused, your defiance only entertains him more. don’t mind him then, as he eases you back, gaze heavy on you, his hands slide firmly to your thighs, guiding you then lifting your legs to settle over his shoulders.
he looks at you like he’s about to show you what heaven feels like when its most precious and divine being finally falls from grace.
yunho loves teasing you with his words almost as much as he loves tasting you. his tongue dives in, relentless at first, exploring every twitching nerve that seems to remember him all to well, then deeper, faster and harder. he pushes in and out like he’s trying to swallow you whole, sliding in and out with perfect rhythm.
“babydoll, you’re so sweet,” he groans, licking and sucking, eyes rolling back when he finally tastes you. you're addicting. he laps up your juices, swirling his tongue on your clit. “did you save all this for me?”
his hands grip your thighs, holding you open, pressing you closer as he devours you like a meal he can’t get enough of. every moan, quiet or loud, drives him further to the sinful gates of temptation. he buries his face in you, lips and tongue hungry, mouth wet, making sure every inch of you is tasted.
“look at you, trembling for me…” he whispers, nibbling at your inner thigh between laps of your cunt. he’s relentless with the words, praising every tiny quiver, “that’s it, you’re such a good girl, letting me do this.”
god, your pussy’s perfect. can’t believe this is all his to play with after a whole year of craving you. the way he grins while teasing you, making you feel like you’re both the most desirable and most obedient thing in the world.
“you like it when i talk to you like this, hm? gonna make you scream my name before i even touch you properly,” he teases, tongue pushing deeper, fingers brushing where you couldn't even reach. every compliment and filthy line makes your body shake more, your pussy grip tighter around nothing, dripping just from his mouth and words.
he mixes praise and filth, so you’re caught between feeling worshiped and utterly used. the combination makes you desperate and completely under his control. by the time he lifts his head, cheeks wet, lips shiny with your slick, because he knows exactly what he’s done to you — and he isn’t done yet.
“mmh… yunho–” your back arches, hips rising to meet him despite yourself. you’re dripping, trembling, completely lost to the sloppy sounds of his tongue. he groans, deep in his throat, enjoying the taste of you. he doesn’t rush when he devours and dominates your senses. “fuck, you are so… hahh–”
your legs are clamping around his head as your hands tug his hair, gosh it’s still so soft to the touch. your chest heaving, voice hoarse from moaning, and yunho finally lifts his head, grinning at the mess he made glistening on his lips. wiping his mouth slowly, chuckling, because he’s left you begging without even doing too much.
“mmhm,” diving back in as his fingers brushing against your clit while his tongue plunges deeper. he just keeps going — tongue flicking, fingers circling, whispering filthy praises with every movement. “that’s it, that’s my good girl… come on, let it all out for me.”
your walls clench and your pussy gushes over his tongue, spurting uncontrollably as your legs tremble and your back arches off the surface. yunho groans, licking up every drop, smiling like the maniac he is, “god, you’re insane… look at you squirting for me.”
he doesn’t stop, still moving, coaxing out every last drop, praising you with every breath he takes. his thoughts are full of you, and soon enough, you will be full of him. “mine, you are only mine… keep coming for me, angel.”
you’ve never felt so ruined and so completely at his mercy.
“i should leave you like this,” he adds, quieter, more to himself than to you. the idea actually tempts him, letting you feel exactly how easy it is for him to get you like this. “send you back downstairs all pretty, like nothing happened…” a soft exhale followed, “...but you wouldn’t make it far.”
pulling back, but his fingers keep toying with your clit, and you’re already so sensitive from that alone. he talks dirty in that manic and possessive way of his, murmuring about how he’ll keep you in the dress and the heels, since you can’t spend the night with him… no matter how much he wants you to.
he eases your legs off his shoulders, standing up with a slow stretch, but before he can even undress, he steps back in between your shaky legs, looking down at you with that same secretive, almost warm smile. maybe it’s love, maybe it’s lust, if not both. his index finger and thumb catch your chin, tilting your face up so you have no choice but to look at him, especially when you were trying so hard not to. how cute.
“drop the act, dollface,” he growled, his fingers slide down, big palm spreading around your throat, squeezing to cut off that long-awaited breath you wanted to take, watching you closely, eyes fixed on your lips as they start to quiver with every subtle tightening of his grip. “or do i need to remind you who you belong to?”
one moment he’s choking you, the next, he’s already stripped from the waist down, preparing you to take him.
lying on your back on the bed, with him hovering above you, one long finger slides inside you, immediately feeling how tight and slick you are as he starts to move. he watches closely, eyes fixed on the way your face twists with undeniable pleasure, all while his own cock pulses hot against your leg. a second finger slips in beside the first, and you feel the stretch right away. your walls clenching around him, creaming over his knuckles as small, broken sounds leave your throat, half cough, half whine, still trying to catch the breath he stole from you.
“there it is… i was waiting for that.” and by that, he means you being ready to take him. his thumb drags over the tip of his throbbing cock, stroking himself a few slow times, and your gaze drops — was he always this big? you’re not even sure how you’re supposed to take it… how you managed before. he’s thick, lining up at your soaked entrance, pushing your walls to their limit before he’s even halfway in, your cunt already molding around his size.
missionary is always a gamble with him, because you never know which version you’re going to get: the gentle one, the mean one, the jealous one… there are options, but you’re never the one choosing. this time, he is a meanie. a creature of extreme sadism.
all you can do beneath him is squirm and cry, clinging helplessly to every inch of him he gives you, heavy as he presses in, hitting places your own fingers could never reach. he grunts softly, hips pulling back again because you’re still not full of him, not yet. he has to carve the shape of himself into your insides, and claim you properly, like he always will.
maybe you’re already close, just from the way he moves. shallow at first, his pelvis dragging sinfully against you, making your writhing body jolt upwards on the bed. he switches between soft and controlled thrusts to slow and grinding circles, anything to ease you and help your body relax, make you greedy enough to take him deeper.
“is that all you do, cry?” yunho hisses under his breath, lips brushing wet against your ear as your nails dig into his shoulders. his cock presses right against your most sensitive spot, pulling a loud moan from you, and you think it’s too deep already, when he is not even that deep. “babydoll, be a good girl for me and take every inch, yeah? no, don’t cry now… you can handle it, because you’re mine… my pretty girl.”
your eyes sting, tears slipping free, smudging your makeup a bit. it’s been so long since you had any sexual intercourse, a whole year. you didn’t even do anything more than a few careless kisses and make out sessions with jaemin, nothing that even comes close to tonight’s carnal ravaging.
you need yunho. not just inside you, you need him under your skin, running through your dna. you hate his guts, you do, but god, he fucks you so well you can feel him in your guts.
the tears fall, catching the light like silver, as if tiny diamonds slip down your cheeks as he stretches you open again.
his fingers lace with yours, pinning your hands against the mattress as he hisses filthy praises into your ear. your sensitive cunt takes every devastating thrust, each one pulling out those wet and sloppy sounds, the kind that make you want to scream again and again until your vocal cords tear apart and you lose your voice for days as a reminder of what yunho is doing to do you. what he will always do to you. the way his cock drives fully into you sends that overwhelming urge through your quivering body, threatening to make you come undone, you’re not even sure if you want to. it’s a sensation so intense, such painfully good pressure building with nowhere to go.
you’re so cockdrunk it’s insane. you always thought you were in control, always told yourself he wasn’t a good person, but the dick was too good to let go. he fits too perfectly, like he was made just for you.
“scream for me, doll,” he groans, that husky tone rolling off his tongue and straight through you, pulling a helpless whimper from your lips. his brown eyes flick over your face, taking in every desperate expression like he’s committing it to memory, because watching you fall apart is his favorite part. his pre-cum leaves a messy ring at the base of his cock, trailing down the inside of your thighs, and maybe if he weren’t so consumed by you, he’d comment on just how desperate you look.
“yu-yunho–!” his name tears from your throat as it echoes through the room. his hips snap into yours without mercy, hard enough to leave bruises. your back lifts off the bed, arching into the overwhelming rush flooding your body. you praise and beg for him, pushing him further into ecstasy as he presses you back down every time you move too much.
“you think anyone else could handle you like this?” yunho coos, his pace picking up, thrusts growing faster and faster, until your thighs start to numb. “think anyone could love you the way i do?”
“yunho, please… ahh–” you hear yourself, like you’re outside your own body and have lost control of even your own voice. all you can feel is your nails digging into his back, your body tightening around him as you suddenly break, soaking him, your release spilling over his cock. and still his eyes stay on you, he adores your face more than anything else. it’s almost as if your reactions to the pleasure only he can give you appeal more to him than the sex itself.
“you say you hate me, but i bet you were just mad at me, yeah?”
but you’re too stubborn to admit that, refusing to give him even that much satisfaction. you close your eyes, trying to reclaim some dominance over him, but he only chuckles, bringing his hips to a stop at the fading edge of his own release.
that’s what makes your eyes snap open, staring up at him. “why’d you–?”
“i asked you a question, angel,” he sneers. one hand drifts down to your clit, rubbing slow, agonizing circles that pull a helpless whine from your throat, your head tosses back.
“p-please, yu– i can’t, i–” but your legs stay wrapped tight around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper, your heels pressing cold against the heat of his body.
his other hand moves, this time settling around your throat. at first, it’s loose, enough pressure to make you notice. then it tightens as he watches everything: from the way your lips part, to how your chest struggles to rise. completely focused on how dependent you become on him for air. forcing eye contact, watching you go from stubborn to needy, leaning in close to whisper instead of raising his voice.
“tell me if it’s too much… go on.” with every small twitch or squirm, it only makes his grip tighten more, restricting your breathing while muttering praise after praise. what a fucking sadistic psychopath. “so pretty like this…can barely breathe and still taking me so well.”
pushing your limits on purpose, to remind you exactly who’s in control. he feels the way you start to struggle, your body begins to give, and only then does his grip loosen.
air rushes back into your lungs all at once, burning on the way in. your chest stutters, breaths coming out broken and uneven instead of steady. your vision blurs, tears slipping freely now, and you don’t even realize you’re shaking until he notices it first. his hand doesn’t leave your throat. it stays there, fingers still curved around it, no longer squeezing, just resting.
“there you go, babydoll,” his voice drops, softer now, but no less heavy. “breathe.”
but he’s watching you too closely for it to feel like kindness. his thumb drags slowly over the spot he pressed into, feeling the rapid flutter of your pulse beneath his touch. your lips part, pulling in air that still doesn’t feel like enough, as another broken sound slips out of you.
it does something to him. you like this, glassy-eyed and trembling, wants him to hold onto this exact version of you for as long as he can. then, without warning, he leans in. his lips press against yours. it’s not an apology, far from it. a kiss that lingers just long enough to steal the breath you just fought to get back, a quiet reminder of how easily he can take it and when he pulls away, there’s the faintest hint of a smile, because he’d do it again.
“shh, don’t cry… you know i take care of what’s mine.” still too dizzy to think about anything but breathing and kissing, your legs are thrown over his broad shoulders, his hands pushing them closer to your head to get the angle just right. he watches himself slide between your folds, then looks down at you like he’s never seen anything more beautiful.
you glance down to where your bodies meet, even if every instinct tells you to pull away, but there’s nowhere to go. every movement hits heavier, deeper; your body can’t tell the difference between pleasure and pressure anymore. he drags himself all the way out at a torturously slow pace, only to push back in just as cruelly.
"s-shit… don’t move,” he groans, thrusting into you, when he finally decides to snap his hips, his pelvis pressed against yours. his fingers find your sensitive clit again, rubbing it fast to get you to cum again, throwing his head back as he thrusts one last time, before shooting his load into your aching cunt. spurts of warm cum fill your insides while you wither beneath him, all hot and sweaty, not even processing the mess both of you made under the clean bedsheets.
his cock was pulsing so hard you could feel it bulging through your tummy, filling you to the brim as you milk him dry. his palm presses flat against your lower stomach, and he actually smirks when he feels and sees the faint movement beneath, occasionally shifting his hand lower or higher just to make you lose focus mid-thought.
“you fell that, doll?”
do you feel how deep my love runs for you?
yunho looks at you like he’s completely gone, someone who operates on obsession, trying to imprint himself into every part of you, leave something behind that no one else could ever do. he’s smug about it too, of course he is. he just won in life, like out of everything in the world, he got you. fuck, wishing he had his camera right now, just to capture this exact moment. you look unreal beneath him, divine even dressed in black, an angel dragged down just for him.
his voice softens, murmuring sweet nothings under his breath as he leans in, pressing slow kisses to your cheeks, your temple, the bridge of your nose. gentler now, calming you down after everything he just put you through. a quick peck lands on your lips, lingering just a little longer than it needs to.
finally, yunho pulls out, watching closely as a small trace of him drips from you. his fingers follow immediately, sinking to keep it all in. then he pulls you up, arms wrapping around you, holding you tight against his chest, lips pressing into your hair, breathing you in like he doesn’t get enough of you, even now.
the aftercare is minimal, because it has to be. he lets you rest for a few minutes, helps you steady yourself, maybe guides you to the bathroom, helps you fix your clothes and makeup, and put your panties back on, while he dresses himself again as if nothing happened. and only now, that you’re about to leave, does he decide to act sweet.
“you good, need anything else?”
“i’ll manage, thank you very much, asshole.”
you smile through your teeth, already turning, only to wobble slightly in your heels. gee, wonder why, like you just didn't have some mindblowing sex. making your way out, you’re glowing, there’s no other word for it. a little wrecked, sure, a little unsteady, but shining brighter than the stars in the sky.
he doesn’t close the door right away, waits until you step into the elevator, as the doors slide shut and you’re out of sight. only then does he finally close it, the click echoing a little too loud in the empty room. he leans back for a second, alone with himself, because yeah, he’s an asshole, he knows that.
but you’ll always come back to him, and he’ll always come back to you.
having big gaps between classes was something you enjoyed, but sometimes hated. just like you hate everything about him. from the smug smirk that pulls at the corner of his mouth to how his fingers are inside your mouth, making you gag and be disgusted by the way he does such things like he owns you — he doesn’t.
he’s your ex, the one you’ve tried so hard to forget: the sound of his voice, the way he felt under your skin. now his lips are back on your neck, sucking, kissing, leaving marks you’ll have to cover the second you walk out of his office once he’s done fucking you on his desk. you feel his thumb press against your throat, taking his time, teasing you in ways you swore you would never let him do that again, claiming you like he never left.
trying to tell him, no but your body keeps telling him yes.
you should be disappointed in yourself, letting him pull you off track like this, letting him take control when you know better. yet, with every touch and mark sends heat racing through you, clouding your mind until you can barely remember why you hate him so much. is it because he wasn’t who you thought he was… or because you still feel something for him? hating him is easier than admitting you never stopped wanting him.
you don’t want to care; you want to despise him for what he did and for who he is. but that’s slipping away when your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, eyes roll back when he slides inside of you, filling you completely, making you forget everything else. you want to resist, hold onto the anger, but you can’t. not when he’s deep inside, hitting all the spots that make you arch and gasp, his name falls from your lips even when you swore you’d never let it happen again.
“y-yunho... faster!” you choke out, hands clawing at his back, desperate and needy, but of course, he doesn’t give in that easily. yunho only slows down, teasing you, lips curling into that infuriating grin against your skin.
“angel, i told you to be quiet, didn’t i?” he murmurs, voice low and slightly mocking, “so impatient, as always. good things come when you obey… and wait.”
you are tired of waiting and being toyed with, and if he’s going to take his sweet time, then you’ll make sure he regrets it. your nails dig into his shoulders, even through his shirt, hard enough to strain the fabric and leave marks far more lasting than the lipstick stain on that secret polaroid sitting on his nightstand.
"stop being such a dick and fuck me already!" you hate him, you repeat it to yourself over and over, until his breath is hot against your neck and his hands are gripping your hips as if he’ll never let go.
and just like that, he snaps, relentless now, giving you exactly what you begged for.
his pace quickens, the plastic creaks underneath, each thrust pushing you closer to that edge, all you can think about is him, all you can feel is him. the hate melts away, replaced by a pleasure so overwhelming it almost hurts. you are so full, burning hot by how he uses your body as a canvas to paint you all white with no drops going to waste. purity and innocence, those words don’t exist for you anymore, as they are replaced with sin and punishment.
“that’s it, pretty. feels good, yeah?” he knows exactly how the two of you collide, like you’re at war with each other. it’s rough, as it drags your pride and self-respect straight through the dirt. the relationship is so damn dysfunctional, but yunho knows you better than anyone else. you don’t even realize how much he thrives on this, how easily you let him take control. he loves you like this: soft and bratty, vulnerable and entirely his.
you hope, no, you pray, that the good thing he promised finally comes, because you can’t take much more of this. when it hits, it crashes through you at the same time as him, your cries muffled against his shoulder, your chest rising and falling as all that tension finally spills out. he will take care of you, he will always look out for you because you are his most adored and precious doll, his favorite thing to hold and ruin.
a few minutes later, after he’s helped clean you up with a towel from one of the cabinets he keeps just for these getaways. you zip your pants back up, still feeling the lingering warmth between your thighs. you just hope your panties are enough to keep things from showing through. shit… you should’ve worn the black jeans.
“i only came here to give you mine and jeongin’s project, not to get creampied.”
“baby, you know you don’t have to do anything,” he says, spinning lazily in his chair. one hand clicks the mouse as he scrolls through whatever just came into his email. “you’re my favorite student, you pass without lifting a finger. your friend, on the other hand… needs to learn how to use photoshop.”
“yeah, but…”
“but what?” he glances up at you from the computer, that same knowing look settling back in. “you missed me?”
ah, your eyes betray you again. you missed him, no matter how much your ego tries to argue otherwise. after what happened at the hotel two months ago… yeah, that was all it took for both of you to realize you can’t stay away from each other. and maybe you’ll regret it one day, but not now. you’ve already decided to keep it hidden from karina and yeji. as for jaemin… yeah, he’s nice. he’s always been, but that’s all he is now, nice. you made sure you stayed friends, nothing more, and nothing less.
so you leave yunho’s office, of course not before kissing him goodbye, not that it matters much when he’ll be at your place later anyway. “don’t forget we’re watching spiderman~” like you could forget, you know the entire plot by heart at this point.
you’re wearing a sweater that’s way too big for you, one you casually told your friends you found at a thrift store. sure, if that store was called yunho’s apartment. thankfully, no one suspects a thing, not even your two best friends, because if they did… it would be over, and you’re not ready to lose them, but the heart wants what it wants.
later, you meet jeongin at the campus café, sitting across from him like you didn’t just leave your professor’s office in a completely different state than you entered it.
“innie, thank you for ordering for me too.” you smile, taking a sip of your drink, looking… brighter than usual, too happy for someone with a four-hour gap between classes.
“yeah, no problem,” he says, watching you for a second longer than usual. “also, are you… okay? i don’t know, you just seem different lately after things ended with jaemin.”
you blink, caught off guard. “huh, am i?” a small shrug follows. “i don’t know… i guess i just decided to focus on myself for a while, not on men.”
“well… whatever it is, it suits you,” he mutters, still a little unsure. “oh– by the way, what did professor jeong say about the project?”
“he said we’ve got max points secured,” you shrug lightly. “and that you’ve improved your photoshop skills.”
“really?” jeongin perks up, grinning. “well, don’t mind me if i skip next week then.”
the first part is true, the second isn’t. you can lie to everyone else, but not to yunho. it’s harmless. not everyone needs to know everything about you, not even the people closest to you. so here you are back with your toxic ex, because being stuck on a feeling means being stuck on him. if anyone found out, they’d probably kill him first… and then you.
he knows exactly what you risk every time you come back to him. this was never a temporary game, something that could end just because you decided it should. to him, it’s an inevitable cycle. he doesn’t see himself as someone you return to; in his mind, you never truly left in the first place.
he would give you everything without hesitation. tear the world apart for you, piece by piece, if that’s what it takes to keep you where he wants. but he would ruin you just as easily, because to him, being broken by his hands is still better than letting anyone else touch what he was already his.
yunho is a monster creeping in your heart. a wolf in sheep’s clothing, the kind of character no one expects to be the villain. he isn’t some bad habit; he is an addiction with no cure, letting him consume you, until there’s barely a line left between where you end and he begins. you chose to stay, considering no one plays the role better than you do. this version of yourself that looks put together, untouchable, and guarded… while slowly giving everything away to the one person who knows exactly how to take it.
you didn’t fall for a good man — you fell for the one who learned how to look like one. you keep calling it love, even when it’s nowhere close, because you can’t tell the difference anymore. and if this is what love is supposed to feel like… you don’t want to be saved from it.
thank you phoebe ( @tinyfixon ) for doing a beta read and being an amazing editor! i love you so much and i hope mingi is going to propose to you soon <3
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sukuna grinding his cock up into you in the middle of a frat party, lazily rolling his hips up to hit that sweet spot and keeping your back pressed against your chest as he murmured in your ear, "you gonna moan?"
shaking your head no to stop yourself from whimpering at the weight of his forearm wrapped possessively around your waist while drunk frat bros passed you by, chatting about stupid shit and gawking at sorority girls and totally clueless to the way you were getting ruthlessly stretched out around your situationship's thick cock.
"y-you wish," you quietly insisted, biting down on the bottom of your lip just for him to laugh at you, your skirt flipped up as your lace thong started to chaff against the inside of your thigh.
"i do," he hummed, his teeth grazing against the inside of your throat. "want them to know who's fucking you like this."
"no thanks," you huffed at him, trying your hardest to keep a straight face when he was intent to keep you squirming on his lap. no one else needed to know what you shared. which you were sure should just be sex. no matter what either of you said in the heat of the moment. "m'not yours."
synopsis: You decide to send a letter to an inmate out of curiosity. Thinking he’d never get out of prison, you tell him things you never shared with anyone else before. Seonghwa decides to fulfill one of those things for you. (this idea came to me after watching love after lockup lol)
Tw: Cnc , rough sex, spanking , Mc is naive and kind of a dum dum, do NOT send letters to inmates, dirty talk, degradation squirting, spitting in mouth, face slapping, unprotected sex, overstimulation, the word rape is mentioned. (Do not bothering reading if that makes you uncomfortable. I’m not your babysitter and any hate will just get you blocked.) I didn’t proofread because I’m lazy, if im missing another warning lmk.
You ran fast, backpack jostling behind you. You pushed past people walking along the street, wanting to get home as soon as you could.
There’s has to be something that every person looks forward to every day of their life—or at the very least, every week.
Yours is this.
You quickly reach the lobby of your apartment building, walking towards the room where each unit’s mails were placed and start looking for your own. You pushed your key in, twisting and pulling until it opened only to be met with nothing.
It’s empty.
Again.
It’s been three weeks now and you fear that you have gotten a little too attached. You expected a reply a week after you sent your mail, it was always like that. It’s like a routine now.
It’s been a year since you started sending mails to an inmate that went by the name Park Seonghwa. You started doing so after scrolling through the internet for hours and saw a person sharing about her experiences in sending mails to a person in prison. It didn’t sound so bad, she made it sound like it wasn’t something people should be scared of and encouraged more to start doing the same.
You weren’t opposed to the idea.
Your friend warned you about it though, Wooyoung specifically; a senior in the university you’re currently a sophomore in. Wooyoung looks at you incredulously, as if you just said the most foolish idea you had ever come up with.
“You should really get off the internet,” Wooyoung says, voice low as he tried to keep in mind that you were in a public place. A library, to be more specific, where people are busy studying either for exams or projects.Wooyoung turns back to the book he was reading, pushing his eyeglass higher on the bridge of his nose with a twist of his wrist.
“It doesn’t seem so bad, Woo. I’ve been doing some research and they said that doing so could give you a sense of fulfilment,” You explain, trying to convince Wooyoung that it is, in some ways, a good idea.
“If it’s just fulfilment you’re looking for, Y/N, there are many other ways to feel fulfilled,” Wooyoung rationalises, eyebrows curving in worry as he stares at you. “Besides, these are criminals we’re talking about—”
“Some could just be falsely accused. You never know,” You cut off, shrugging your shoulders.
“I know but I mean, you don’t know which ones. They’re master manipulators!” Wooyoung says, eyebrows furrowing as he tries to meet your eyes.
You exhale, eyes looking anywhere but at Wooyoung. Maybe it was a bad idea. Wooyoung sighs, reaching for your arm resting on the table and caresses your skin with his thumb. His hold warm and strong, “Are there things you wish to talk about? I’m right here, you know?”
You breathe out a laugh, shaking your head as you finally meet Wooyoung’s gaze. “I know that, Wooyoung,” you say, tapping his hand that was still holding you. “And it’s not that, I just want to try and be of help, maybe they need friends. It must feel lonely there, right? Besides, I won’t be revealing too much. I’ll just send a letter and if they don’t reply then I’ll take that as a sign that it’s a bad idea.” You shrug.
Wooyoung stares at you for a beat longer, eyes looking from one eye to the other before he breathes out a heavy sigh, shoulders sagging.
He looks down to his book, tapping his pen on it before he looks back at you who just confided in him about something that’s a little troubling. Wooyoung was just looking out for your safety, above all. But you were also old enough to know about what you were getting yourself into and Wooyoung knows that you know that.
So, he sighs, defeated. “Okay, but if anything happens. Tell me, okay?” Wooyoung says, staring straight at you with all the seriousness he could muster. A smile breaks out across your face, as if his approval was all you needed. “I promise, thank you Woo.”
You knew what you should and should not do when sending a letter to a prisoner, after all, they are in prison for a reason. They’re criminals who could manipulate, take advantage of, or use someone for their gain. But you tried hard not to think too much about it. After all, you believe that humans are capable of change.
So you scroll through the website with the highest recommendation of the netizens to use when writing to an inmate. There are a lot of things you could talk about with a stranger. The idea of anonymity and the thought of them basically being a stranger without knowledge of what you look like brings you comfort due to the fact that you could never meet this person since he’s locked up somewhere.
So even if you told him something about yourself, the man could never do anything about the information. And you take comfort in that fact.There were various prisoners listed there who were looking for a pen pal, their picture plastered above their names and age.
So you scroll through a hundred profiles, staring as you cringe in slight fear at the look on some people’s faces. You try hard not to discriminate but the tattoos on their faces, their sharp eyes and huge bodies makes you shiver at the thought of what they’re capable of.
You aren't sure that you’ll find anyone you're comfortable enough to send a letter to, or most of them don’t even seem like they’ll reply to some college student sending a letter with the thought that maybe you’re just doing it for the fun of it.
You were just about to scroll again when a certain profile stopped you in your tracks. He’s no different from the other inmates, he has the same sharp eyes the rest do, piercing, cold and indifferent. He’s staring at the camera as if it's the one that committed a crime against him and you shiver at his gaze.
But aside from his eyes, he seemed…too soft to be in prison. You click on his profile, and find out that the crimes he had committed to end up in prison are not listed on his profile. To prevent people from being scared of sending letters or because of a whole other reason, you aren't sure, but you mostly think it’s the former. You start reading his profile, eyebrows furrowed at the fact there was only minimal information written there.
Park Seonghwa, #713933M
28 years old
I like music and I like to write. I can play the guitar. Anyone is welcome to send me mail. We could talk about anything.
Life before prison: Songwriter
Sentence: 91 years
Can you write through email?: No.
You contemplate as you read through his profile once more before deciding to go for it.
There was no specific reason why it made you choose to write to this man named Park Seonghwa. There really was none. He even seemed like the type that would never reply to mails that don't pique his interest.
Nonetheless, you wrote him one:
Hello!
My name is Y/N L/N. I’m a sophomore in college. I just turned (age) last (birth month)
I’m sending this letter to you because...
You pause, you know you just can’t write because you wanted to or because I’m curious it would seem like you’re mocking those people who are behind bars. You could be carefree sometimes but you weren’t careless.So you think about it, you can’t figure out what to say so you just go back to it and write what you deem appropriate to say.
I’m thinking maybe you’d need a friend from the outside to talk with. You’re not obligated to reply to me. I just want to send you this letter to ask about you and how you are there.
I look forward to hearing from you! I hope we can be friends. :)
Sincerely,
Y/N L/N
The thought of it being too simple and plain crossed your mind, but you figured you couldn’t really say too much in the first letter. It would be too overwhelming to talk about many things on the first meeting, who would want that the first time a person meets someone.
So you resorted to a short and simple message, put it in an envelope and wrote your address as the nearest post office to your apartment building.It’s advice you had gotten from the internet, to not put your real address on the mail since of course, if ever—which is highly unlikely—this person does get out or escapes prison, he won’t be able to locate you even if he tries.
So you input the recipient’s name along with the address of the prison he’s in before going to the post office. After all those things, you began to wait. You didn’t exactly expect an immediate reply, you weren’t even thinking that the man would reply, but deep inside you hoped he would.
Nonetheless, you never bothered checking in the post office. You were loaded with schoolwork during the whole week, too occupied to even have anything else cross your mind aside.
The library was packed, multiple students occupied each chair available and there were more people entering. It seemed they were all on the same boat as you were. It did not give you the slightest bit of comfort.
Just one more day, you remind yourself. Just one more, and this will all be over.
You tap your pen on your book, finding yourself spacing out more than actually focusing on what you needed to be reading. You rub your temple, eyes closing heavily in frustration.
You finally decide to just close your book after another moment of your mind spacing out, the sound almost echoing in the building surprises you. Your eyes widened, shoulders tensing in shame as some heads raised in question. You try hard not to meet their eyes as you pack your things up, hoping no one recognizes you.
You leave the campus and trod the usual street home. Your apartment building isn’t that far from the campus but it wasn’t close either. Nonetheless, you usually enjoy the walk home.It was a quiet walk, your phone clenched tightly in your hand when the thought finally crossed your mind. You weren't exactly counting how long it had been, but as far as you could remember it’s been more than a week since you had sent your letter to a certain someone.
You turn fast, building up your speed in excitement to reach the post office as soon as you can. It didn’t take long before you were already in front, eyes wide as you went to the counter. “Anything for me? Y/N L/N?”
The man stares at you, a little surprised at your outburst but you just stared back with equally wide eyes, eager to know whether you had received a reply or not.
The man starts looking at the countless envelopes, reading each of them before he finally sees the one with your name written on it. “Here,” The man hands it to you.
You take it, reading the addressee and your eyes widened at the name that became familiar on your tongue. “Thank you!”
You run out, a wide smile on your face as you hurried home. You couldn’t believe you received a letter back and you couldn’t spare another second to see what the letter contained.
You pushed the apartment door open after you had typed in the code, the door automatically closing behind you as you removed your shoes with lightning speed, letting them lay messily on the foyer as you walked deeper inside the room and dropped your bag on the floor.
You sit on the wooden floor, crossing your legs as you panted heavily. Your back rests on the foot of the couch, the wood beneath you warm; the comfort of your home embracing you like a hug. You push a stray hair behind your ear, before reaching for the opening of the envelope and start to tear.
You take a deep breath in, and try hard not to read it too fast.
It reads:
Hello, Y/N.
I’m glad you decided to send me a letter.
My name is Park Seonghwa and I’m 28 years old. You can probably already tell that because of my profile, huh?
Life here in prison isn’t that great actually but I get pretty busy so the day passes by quickly. I made a few friends here, one of them is Hongjoong, he’s in the same prison cell as I am. We both have life sentences so we bond over that fact. But it’s nice to have a friend outside these prison bars so I’m looking forward to talking with you, Y/N.
How’s college life so far? Was it everything you ever hoped for? Do you have friends? How are you?
Just tell me about yourself in general and don’t hold back. I’m open with any topic we could talk about.
I’m looking forward to your next letter, Y/N.
Sincerely,
Park Seonghwa
You let out a sigh you didn’t even realise you were holding.
Your face was numb from smiling the whole time and you couldn’t help but to let out a small squeal. Seonghwa’s handwriting was a little messy but it surprisingly goes along with the way he looks.
He seems open and kind. And you’re probably just being naive but all the warnings you heard from Wooyoung just went way past your head.
You hurried over to your study table and started writing your reply.
Hi, Seonghwa!
I’m so happy to hear from you. I didn’t expect to actually receive a reply from you but I am so glad you decided to send me one. It must be hard in there, but I’m glad you have someone to talk and relate with.
My life is pretty boring so I don't know what to tell you. All I did after I sent you the letter was study the whole time, it’s our exam week so of course, I had to. It’s hard but I manage, tomorrow is the last day of my exams and I can finally rest until summer break.
I don’t have many friends, aside from Wooyoung. He’s the only friend I have ever had since I started college. I didn’t expect college to be any different from high school and surprisingly, I was right. Aside from the heavier workload and level of seriousness, everything is pretty much just the same. Or maybe it’s just me.
I’m sorry, there’s really nothing that’s interesting about me. I hope you’ll understand.
But when you receive this mail, just know that I’m well.
How about you? I’d like to know more about you and I look forward to getting to know you as well.
Sincerely,
Y/N L/N
You quickly wrap the letter up, leaving at the same time to go to the post office to have it sent. You’re not exactly sure when you’ll receive the next reply but no one would be stopping you from dropping by every day.
It became a part of your life ever since then.
What you thought would start as something not so serious and child’s play lasted a year. The amount of commitment you both had in sending each other letters had you wondering sometimes. But you were just happy whenever you received a letter with your name written at the back of the envelope in Seonghwa’s handwriting.
It started from something casual, from you both asking about how your lives have been, information about yourselves, interests, hobbies and principles in life, until it grew into something personal you, not surprisingly, expected it to be.
You become open with any information about each other and you find yourself sharing everything you normally wouldn’t share with anyone—even Wooyoung. Maybe it’s because of the fact that you would never get to meet Seonghwa face to face (although, at some point, you started wishing you could) but you can’t tell, Seonghwa just feels like someone who will always be free from judgement.
... really, baby? I didn’t expect that from you. You just never seemed to be the type that will be into that sort of stuff. I admit I’m surprised but it’s good to know that you’re aware of what you like and what you do not want.
Have you tried talking about this with anyone yet? A boyfriend, perhaps? Or maybe friends with benefits? Fuck buddies? Do you want to try that with someone you love or is it fine even if it wasn’t? How would you like it to happen? How about aftercare?
Your cheeks grow hot, and you immediately start fanning your face with the letter the moment you finish reading it, savoring the way Seonghwa spoke to you—how he called you baby. The first time he’d said it, it had taken you nearly ten minutes to calm down.
At this point, you had told Seonghwa almost everything about yourself to the point that there’s nothing left to hide. Seonghwa’s aware what program you were majoring in, your university, your siblings, parents and he even started addressing the mail to your apartment building so you could easily check whenever a letter would arrive.
There’s no harm done, and a year has already passed. You doubt there would be anything bad that’s going to happen now, you’re way past those thoughts. Seonghwa’s got a life sentence, you doubt he’ll ever get out of prison or would even try to break out of it.
And Seonghwa made you feel safe, as if everything about him and everything he ever told you would be safe.
So you don't think anything could happen at this point.
You can’t tell exactly when your letters started transitioning into something that’s edging on intimate, maybe it’s the writer in him or maybe it was just natural of him, but Seonghwa just has his way with words that he smoothly transitions into calling you a term of endearment.
But you didn’t find it in you to point it out, or even try to correct the man.
You were too over the moon to even try, so you said nothing about it.
And Seonghwa continues doing so.
It was a hopeless kind of relationship you shared if you started wishing for something more than just this. So you try hard to limit yourself in thinking about Seonghwa, after all, this is nothing but just a fleeting moment for the both of you.
I actually haven’t tried yet. I’m too scared to even try. I might seem like the type who doesn’t care sometimes but I’m afraid that people would start thinking I’m weird once I told them about what I like.
It’s not everyday you learn that someone loves being forcibly violated during intercourse so it has been nothing else but just a fantasy of mine. Maybe someday, but I don’t know if I would ever meet someone who would be into that.
I don’t have a boyfriend and I’ve had one night stands here and there. I don’t want it to be extremely planned out, I like the spontaneity of it, take me by surprise type of thing. Does that make me sound like a pervert? I think it does. I’m sorry.
You send your reply, only slightly embarrassed about the contents of the letter since you’ve been talking about stuff like this for months now. Seonghwa has helped you discover things you didn’t know about yourself.
The man was too intelligent, filled with random knowledge even you didn’t know. Maybe it came with his age. It was either Seonghwa was naturally a genius or there’s just a lot of things you don’t know.
It was exactly four days later when you received a reply, opening the mailbox to see a letter from no one else but Seonghwa.
You readied yourself to read a long letter once you had reached your apartment, but you didn’t expect to see a paper containing only a sentence. Seonghwa has never done that before, so to see him do so made you frown in confusion.
What’s your safe word?
You read it once more, and then read it again. You reach for the envelope, turning it over to see that it did come from Seonghwa and it was addressed to you so there really was no mistake.
You thought a lot about it, and wondered why that was the only thing he had sent you since he usually sends two to three pages long.
But you still stand up, going to the study table and grabbing your pen. You pause and stare at the blank paper, thinking about what else you should write but considering Seonghwa didn’t answer your past questions and answered you with a single question, you resorted to doing the same.
You don't know what Seonghwa wants to do with the information but you answered him honestly. Like you always did.
Just the basics. The traffic light system, green, continue. Yellow, slow down. Red, stop everything immediately. Unless I say them, everything I say is not considered, like no, or stop. All that stuff.
Why?
The moment you sent that letter, you never received a reply from Seonghwa again.
You wondered whether you had gone a little overboard in sharing your preferences. Anxiously you think about how maybe you had finally weirded Seonghwa out after everything you had told him.
You’re aware it wasn’t normal, considering it’s something that shouldn’t be taken lightly. But you thought Seonghwa understood. He had indulged you, asked you about it, encouraged you, and comforted you—reassuring you that there was nothing wrong with having kinks that fell outside what most people consider typical.
You were grateful that you could finally talk about it openly with someone—grateful that Seonghwa understood you and was someone you could rely on. He made you feel there was nothing wrong with wanting to be forced beyond your limits during sex, and that it was a good thing to know yourself so well. It left you feeling more at ease with what you wanted.
You thought you had finally built up the confidence to try something you’d wanted for a long time, especially after Seonghwa kept telling you not to be afraid of any judgement.
But since his silence, it was as if you went back to where you first started again. Way back to your hometown, surfing the internet hoping it had the answers to why you wanted to be taken against your will and why the thought of it turned you on.
That feeling of anxiety started creeping in on you again just like it had back then.
You should’ve listened when Wooyoung warned you about it. When he had spoken about how prisoners could easily manipulate someone. If you have heeded his warnings then maybe you wouldn't be feeling this way now.
Tomorrow would mark three weeks since you’d sent your letter. Seonghwa had never gone this long without replying, so if there was still nothing waiting for you when you got home tomorrow, you’d decided you would force yourself to let it go and start moving on.
Even then, you knew it would take a long time before you could truly forget.
You stopped by your mailbox right after you had come home from a night class you dreaded having. Your heart was hammering in your chest, nervous and all the more hopeful that there would be something inside, an envelope that contained a letter and bore Seonghwa’s handwriting in it.
But you were met with disappointment when you tugged it open and found nothing.
Your mouth pursed, heart sinking as you closed the metal loudly. You considered staying there, lumping down the floor to curl up and bask on the lingering feeling of pain and betrayal in your chest. But you push yourself to start walking towards the elevator, trying so hard to suppress the tears threatening to fall as you walk inside the elevator.
Your mind spaces out, the tears you were trying so hard to hold back finally vanishes and results into blank—empty.
You walk out of the elevator when it chimes, signaling your arrival to your floor. You were way too out of your mind as you walked along the hallway, not even noticing your surroundings, too deep in your feelings to even start worrying about anything else.
You stand right in front of your apartment door, shoulders sagging as your hands reach out to type the code in. Your eyes were distant, mind blank as you sighed.
There’s usually no one along the halls at this time of the night since people resorted to resting in their units. You rarely see your neighbours even except in the mornings when people tend to get busy especially on weekdays.
So when someone crept up behind you without making a sound—the warmth of their presence sending a shiver across your skin—you froze where you stood.
Your movements paused and your eyes widened, rising from its gaze on your hands on the pad to looking ahead right at the wood of your apartment door.
Your first thought was it could be a ghost, or a creepy feeling you had never felt before in your entire life, something paranormal and scary—but when you felt something sharp placed right on the side of your torso, you finally got the idea of what was happening.
Your heart began to race, and sweat started to gather on your forehead as a wave of adrenaline washed over you.
You raise your hands slightly, trembling in fear as the man grabs you by the shoulder while the other stays right at your side while holding something—which you could suspect as nothing else but a knife.
“Open the door,” The man commands. His voice was deep and a little raspy, and the power it held had you automatically obeying.
You immediately continue with typing your code in, turning it to the side and twisting it open. The man behind you pushes you in and follows right after you.
Your head was tucked, fear overcoming you as all thoughts circled your mind. What could this man possibly want? What could you even offer? You have nothing. You’re not even that rich to be involved in this kind of incident. You surely don't have enemies as far as you know. So why the hell was this happening?
“I-I don’t have much money,” you begin, words stuttering out as you continue looking ahead, refusing to turn as this might trigger the man. “But you could take anything—everything, I have my laptop over there and my phone—my money is—“
The man chuckles, in amusement or in a way to mock you—you don't know and you could care less. You just want to know what this man wants from you, “That’s not what I want.”
You pause, wondering what else the man could take from you aside from material things.
One thing came into your mind, but you deeply hoped that wasn’t the case.
“Turn around,” The man orders.
You did as you were told, albeit hesitantly. You refused to look at the man’s face when you had made a full turn, eyes cast down to the floor.
There was a moment of silence and you were so close to tears when you felt a warmth on your chin, forcing you to lift your face and you did, trembling in fear as you followed the movement and you finally got to see the man’s face.
“What else can you offer?” The man says with a tilt of his head and a smirk on his lips.
You stared, taking in the sight of the man in front of you, and your face relaxed—contorting into something akin to relief as realization dawned on you.
You haven't seen this man in person, nor have you met him personally even once, but you know him. You were just exchanging letters with him a few weeks ago, talking about everything you could never talk about to anyone and shame finally overcame you.
Your fear was gone in an instant, almost non-existent as embarrassment took its place.
You almost utter out the man’s name, but Seonghwa comes close, wrapping you up in his warmth as his lips graze your ear.
Seonghwa was tall, and the way he carried himself—the way he stood, the weight of his presence—made you want to shrink into yourself.
Seonghwa’s hand rounds your body, reaching behind you, hand low before it finally comes in contact with the supple flesh of your ass.
You gasp, eyes widening in surprise as you try to hold back any more sounds you could make as Seonghwa starts to caress you there.
You don't know what to do with yourself nor where this was leading to. You haven't even talked to him in three weeks now, and seeing him here was more than just a surprise.
But the way Seonghwa was holding you, the way he had started whatever he was doing to you excited you to no end. This was what you were just talking about with him a few weeks before, and now Seonghwa’s giving you exactly what you wanted.
“Please … stop,” you mutter, voice weak and quiet as you shut your eyes tight. The words coming to you naturally, your skin prickling, buzzing with heat as the thought of what’s happening burns your loins.
A smile spreads across Seonghwa’s lips. He didn’t expect you to play along immediately considering you had never seen each other in person like this. He expected you to push him away or tell him to leave.
He guesses you really are just too fucked in the head.
Lucky him.
Seonghwa pulls away, seeing that your eyes are shut tight and he grinds his teeth. He grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling you into a kiss and you push on his chest, lips shut tight as Seonghwa tries to force them open with his tongue.
He grabs your jaw, tightening his hold to coax your mouth open and you wince, the pain unbearable. You had no choice but to open your mouth, welcoming his tongue in.
There were so many thoughts circling your mind, so many questions you wanted to ask—confusions you hoped he would finally clear up after you’d gone so long without hearing from him.
But you couldn’t think straight as the lust flooded your mind. You could feel your panties getting wet at the contact of Seonghwa’s thigh in between your legs.
The man was everything but gentle, he pushed you backwards by walking forward, hand still clutching you by the jaw as your lips did not break contact. You weren’t even reciprocating the action.
You were just there, mouth slacked and tongue lolled out as Seonghwa sucked you in as if he’s been starved for so long and you whined at the thought of being used.
You push on his chest, finding the man unbudging before the back of your knees make contact with your bed and you fall against the sheets, forcing your mouths to break.
You sit there, looking up at the man who was looking down at you , eyes clouded with lust and you turn away, catching your breath. You already know where this is leading to but you don't know what Seonghwa’s planning.
Seonghwa pushes his hair back, reaching for his pants and unzips it. He positions himself right where you sit in front of him, your brows furrow as you sit there looking up at him.
He pulls his dick out, stroking himself a few times before he grabs your hair, forcing you to turn your head towards his dick and he smiles at the sight of it.
You pull back, trying to turn away but the hold Seonghwa had on you had you stilling, his grip against your hair tight and painful.
“Suck,” he says, voice authoritative as he grazes the head of his cock against your lips. The action made your pussy clench, finding yourself getting wetter at the thought of him forcing you to take him down your throat.
“N-No,” you beg, pressing your lips together but his hold on your hair tightens making you hiss in pain.
“I wasn’t asking,” Seonghwa grunts, gaze piercing and you shiver.
Your eyebrows pinched together and tears welled up at the edge of your eyes, but your mouth fell open slightly, until Seonghwa opened it wider by thrusting his dick in without remorse.
You choke, pulling back at the force, pushing him by his hips but Seonghwa holds you there, laughing at your struggle.
“If you don’t do it properly, you’re gonna choke. Come on,” he pulls his hips back, giving you time to readjust before he pushes once more, thrusting his dick in and this time, your throat is more relaxed as tears fall down your cheeks.
Seonghwa’s mouth falls open, almost cumming at the face you were making. You looked so pretty, eyes filled with tears looking up at him, eyebrows pinched as you glared, mouth full with his dick, sitting there, pliant and powerless as you let him use you.
“If I feel teeth, I’ll kill you right here,” he threatens and your throat tightens around his cock as you whine.
Seonghwa groaned, throwing his head back as he thrusts in your mouth, gradually getting rougher and faster. It had you closing your eyes, hands raising once more to hold him by his hips to slow him down but the man refused to do so.
“Your throat is twitching, do you actually like that, huh?” He grunts, panting as he chases his high.
You find yourself choking in discomfort and you try to pull away once more, pushing yourself up further by the bed in hopes of getting away.
Seonghwa lets you go, his cock coming out of your mouth filled with spit and his precum. You heave, catching your breath as if drowned.
Seonghwa watches you, amusement dancing in his eyes as you climb up the bed until the back of your head collides with the wall, finding yourself cornered.
“I haven't even cum yet,” He mutters, climbing up the bed on his knees as he strokes himself, his cock dripping wet. Your hand raises, covering your mouth with the back of it.
“Please … no more, I can’t do it,” You plead, turning your face away.
“You were amazing, baby. It’s like you were born to be used,” Seonghwa says, voice mocking and the smile on his face sinister.
You look at him in fear when he grabs your hair once more, he holds his dick with the other and lines it up again against your lips.
His cock grazes your lips, his precum spreading on it and he bites his bottom lip at the sight. “So pretty, aren’t you? How many dicks has this mouth sucked, huh?”
Seonghwa slaps his cock against your lips teasingly as your eyes scrunch close in humiliation. You’re pretty sure there was a wet spot forming in the middle of your jeans from everything he was doing to you. You hated how much you loved this but it was everything you ever wanted.
“Open wide, baby,” He says and you do so, not wanting to disobey the man further and push the wrong buttons.
Seonghwa thrusts fast almost immediately, chasing the high he was on earlier and you keep your eyes closed, throat clenching sporadically as he holds you still, face pressed right against his pubes as warmth finally spreads across your throat.
Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, gulping down the spurts of cum Seonghwa was releasing in your mouth as he refused to pull away, determined to make you swallow everything and you did just that, choking and gasping for air.
You hadn't even fully recovered when he tugs you down, turning you over, and forcibly bends your body across the bed face shoved in the pillows causing you to tremble.
“Wait—Please, haven’t you had enough?” You say, voice scratchy and breathless as you try to look over your shoulder at Seonghwa but he firmly holds you by the nape.
“You call a mediocre blowjob enough? Who would be satisfied with that?” Seonghwa chuckles, the sound is too humiliating to your ears.
Seonghwa towers behind you, pushing you harder on the bed when you try to struggle. The man hovers right behind your head, you feel the hand on your nape let loose only to reach for your hands on each side of your body to tie them together behind you.
You freeze, heart hammering loud in your chest at the thought of being unable to fight back or do anything but lay there and take whatever he was going to do to you.
A familiar heat swept across your skin, and you squeezed your eyes shut as a whine escaped you, mentally berating yourself for being so obvious.
Seonghwa chuckles, almost breaking out of his own character and pushes himself up after successfully tying your wrists with his belt.
He hovers behind you once more, hands pressing on either side of your head as he lowers his face right at your ear and whispers, “Isn’t this supposed to be the part where you struggle, baby? You love it too much, you're breaking out of your own character.”
You grit your teeth, wiggling your body and thumping your head back to try to knock him off balance to no avail. “Let go of me.”
Seonghwa tilts his head to the side, amazed at the shift, and smirks at your struggle. "You do realise you're not going anywhere, right? I'm going to fuck you, and you're going to take it whether you want it or not. But judging from the back of your jeans, I don't think that's going to be an issue."
He shifted back and flipped your body over so you were on your back, and you gasped at the sudden movement, your wrists still locked together behind you.
Seonghwa grabs your jaw, forcibly making you turn to face him and spares no time smashing his lips against yours. You clench your jaw tightly when his tongue tries to pry your mouth open.
The hold on your jaw tightens in retaliation, the stinging pain making you wince. You were left with no choice but to relax your jaw, unable to bear the pain as his tongue made its way into your mouth.
Seonghwa was relentless. It was as if he was sucking you in just like before. The hold he had on your jaw was more relaxed now, just angling your head to lift it higher so he could kiss you better—deeper.
You whimper as he sucks on your tongue, fidgeting and rubbing your thighs together for some sort of relief for your neglected pussy that’s been left untouched.
Seonghwa seems to notice this. He lowers both his hands, easily unbuttoning your jeans and yanking down the zipper. You struggle once more, all the more surprised and overwhelmed.
“Wait—” you blurt, frantic. You turn your face to the side to break the kiss, and Seonghwa’s lips collide with your cheek.
You try to reach for his hands on instinct until you remember that your hands are still bound, and you whimper in helplessness as Seonghwa finishes pulling down the rest of your jeans along with your panties. Seonghwa relishes the sight of you naked from the waist down in front of him as he drops the items to the floor.
He spreads your legs open and you immediately turn your head away in humiliation as if that would make you feel less exposed but it didn’t, not even one bit and fresh tears gathered in your eyes from the shame.
Your hole twitched and Seonghwa smiled, no matter how much you tried to deny it, he knows just as much as you do that you loved this.
It would take a fool not to notice.
And Seonghwa’s not a fool.
He fits himself between your legs, rubbing his cock against your bare cunt, and feels you trembling against him—whether in shame or excitement, he couldn't exactly tell. "You're a pervert," he whispered in your ear, leaning down.
You whimper, biting your bottom lip, embarrassed that Seonghwa thinks you’re a pervert—and that he knows it, too.
You’d been physically open and vulnerable with one-night stands before, but none of them knew what you liked the way he did. And even though you were excited and looking forward to what would happen next, you couldn’t ignore the humiliation and shame simmering beneath your skin.
But you find yourself liking that as well.
So, Seonghwa’s right.
You are a pervert.
Seonghwa grinds his hips forward again, lingering for another moment as he revels in the way his cock rubs against your slit and brushes your clit. You can't help thrusting your hips up to meet his, your eyes fluttering in pleasure.
You don't even notice when he swiftly inserts two fingers into your entrance, making you throw your head back—you weren't prepared for the sudden intrusion. Still, you try to fight it, pulling your hips away, but Seonghwa only grows more persistent. One hand reaches out to hold your hip still while the other pushes his fingers deeper inside you until they're buried knuckle-deep, drawing an involuntary moan from your lips.
Fuck, you're so tight," Seonghwa cursed, his mind flashing with images of his cock sliding in and out of you instead of his fingers. His fingers graze against the gummy walls of your pussy, looking for something that he knew without a doubt would add to your pleasure.
He knew he found it when your thighs began to shake, your breathing growing faster and heavier, resulting in you squirming even harder, trying to get away from Seonghwa’s relentless onslaught.
“Stop! Stop! Wait, please—slow down!” You beg, eyes wide in panic as you grow nearer to your climax but that only riled Seonghwa up.
Unless he heard exactly the word that signified it being too much for you, he wasn’t going to stop anytime soon.
“Stop—Please! I’m coming!!” You scream, voice high and pitchy. Your thighs close, trapping Seonghwa’s arm in between your legs as if that would stop him.
Seonghwa arches his fingers, pushing against that one spot inside of you so hard you choke on a moan, coming hard and fast, your thighs shake, mouth falling open as your eyes fight to stay open.
He pulls his fingers out, his hand wet with your release almost to the point it reaches his wrist and laughs before licking it off of his fingers. Sweat gathered at his forehead, making his hair stick to it and he pushed it back with his free hand.
“I fucking knew you would be good for this,” Seonghwa comments, looking down at you as you shivered from how hard your orgasm was.
You roll onto your side, curling in on yourself as much as your bound arms allow, trying to ride out the afterglow—but Seonghwa doesn’t give you any time.
He tugs on your shoulder, making you turn to face him once more and you do, eyes hooded and hazy as you look up at the man who stares down at you with lust and satisfaction swimming in his eyes.
“Open your mouth,” he commands, holding you by the jaw.
You were way past fighting back now, so you do as he says, mouth falling open at the command and Seonghwa’s gaze lowers to your mouth. “Tongue out.”
You did what you were told and rolled your tongue out, the muscle wet and Seonghwa gathered saliva in his mouth, spitting it right into your own and closed it with his hold on your chin.
“Swallow, bitch.” He says and you don’t hesitate, groaning at the action. Seonghwa slaps your cheek, the force leaving a mark on your skin and you whimper slowly, eyes closing in a daze.
It was so filthy, so dirty and lewd, you couldn’t believe how much you liked it.
“Good girl,” Seonghwa praises. His hand grips your chin, holding you by the cheek as he caresses you there, and you nuzzle into his palm on instinct.
He grabs your shoulder again, turning you over, and pushes your head down into the pillow. “Raise your hips.”
You do so obediently, knees holding you up as you present yourself for Seonghwa to see and he smiles, loving the obedience.
“What a good bitch I have right here. Should I just lock you up? Keep you out of the world and tie you up right here, just for me, hmm? Just for me to use and fuck whenever I want.”
You shake your head despite the difficulty, appalled at what Seonghwa suggested and the man just laughs at your reaction. You’ve been panting so hard, mouth falling open as spit drips from your lips. You don’t know what to do with yourself, you have never been so lost in pleasure like this.
“I think you would be a great cock sleeve, baby.”
Seonghwa raises his hand, slapping one of your ass cheeks harshly and it immediately starts to sting. You wince at the pain, body jolting up at the force as you feel something drip out of your pussy.
You have never been like this before.
“Fucking slut,” Seonghwa whispers, landing another slap on the other cheek and your toes curl.
Seonghwa tugs on his cock, inching closer to your awaiting hole before he notices your hands fisted into a ball, wrist bruised from the tightness of the belt and he stops himself.
He reaches for the belt, tugs it loose and throws it off the bed.
A question pops inside of your head after the action but the relief that came with it when you were finally able to rest your arms on the bed washed it away.
Seonghwa pushes your shirt up, eyes peering down at your waist and wraps his hands around it. He lines himself up against your entrance, watching the way your hole gives in so easily to the head of his cock and he groans at the sight. Your pussy immediately wraps around his dick like a vice, so warm and tight Seonghwa couldn’t help but moan as he pushed his way inside.
You choke on a gasp as he buries himself to the hilt. Seonghwa’s cock was so big it was as if he occupied your insides, leaving no space for anything else. You couldn’t bring yourself to open your eyes from the pressure alone.
With the little ounce of fight left in you, you reach behind you, trying to push Seonghwa’s hips away when it finally comes in contact with your ass. Seonghwa grips your hand, and reaches for the other.
He pins them both behind your back steady with one hand before he pulls your hips back with the grip and thrusts in. His free hand presses on the bed beside your head, holding himself steady as he thrusts in hard.
You jostled on the bed, mouth falling open in a silent moan as the head of his cock grazed your cervix right on.
Your thighs tremble, chest heaving in heavy breaths as Seonghwa fucks you without remorse. Your face turns to the side, mouth open and eyes unfocused as the urge to close your legs starts flooding your mind, the intensity of Seonghwa’s thrusts makes your legs shake, toes curling at the unimaginable pleasure.
It was the first time you had ever felt like this. Everything you knew about sex was gone with the way Seonghwa was fucking you. It was as if it was your first time all over again, only this time you were actually enjoying it.
You whine, teeth clenching as Seonghwa never once moves from that spongy spot inside of you. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You moaned, hands trying to claw their way out of Seonghwa’s grip to clench the sheets but Seonghwa refused to let them go.
He lowers himself, lips coming in contact with your shoulder and kisses you there. He raises himself to your ear and whispers, “You like that?”
He thrusts in, deeper and harder, the sound of skin slapping drumming in your ears and you relish in the filth of it. It was so unreserved and wild, you can’t bring yourself to open your eyes as you moan without a care.
“Fuck,” you whimper, burying your face in the pillow as you try to pull your hips away from Seonghwa’s brutal thrusts.
The buildup of your orgasm didn’t take long, you were already getting closer and closer as Seonghwa didn’t even try to hold himself back, pushing more when you tried to pull away, leaving you not even the smallest chance of escaping his onslaught.
True to his word, he fucks you like some cock sleeve only meant to be used.
And you take pleasure at the thought. Eyes closed, moans escaping uncontrollably as your mouth fell open.
Seonghwa lets go of your hands, lowering himself on your back and pins you down with his entire body as he chases his high.
You just lie there, taking his harsh thrusts before the man tugs you by the hair, making you yelp in surprise as he turns your head back and captures your lips. Seonghwa pins your hips down, knees spreading open on the bed as his thrusts grow faster and faster, finally coming close to his high.
He bites on your lower lip, pulling a pained whine from your mouth before he pulls away. “Fuck, you feel so good.” He groans, voice heavy with lust as he pants right in your ear.
It was so heated, so heavy and hot as your pants and moans echoed in the room. Your cunt clenched down on his dick as you came, surprising yourself and even Seonghwa as you clenched tighter around the man’s cock.
Seonghwa’s hips still, groaning at the pleasure that wracks his body and grinds his cock in. It took everything in him not to paint your insides with his cum, but he didn’t want this to be over so soon just yet.
Seonghwa pulls out, turning you to face him and pushes on your inner thigh spreading you open once more. Your hand raises to hold his hips back when he starts lining himself up against your throbbing hole once more.
“A-Aren’t we done?” You asked, voice weak and face filled with confusion.
Seonghwa just looks down at you as if you just asked the stupidest question that ever was. “Did I cum?”
“B-But I just came, I’m still sensitive—”
“I don’t give a fuck,” he says, slapping your hold on his hips away and pushes inside once more, sighing at the warmth that envelopes his cock and tosses his head back.
You tense, jolting uncontrollably at the sparks of pleasure as tears hit the edges of your eyes from the oversensitivity. Seonghwa thrusts almost immediately, fucking you with no intentions of stopping and your thighs tighten around his hips.
You feel the familiar buildup, only this time it feels different.
“Wait—Wait, Seonghwa!” You call out his name, frantic. You try pushing the man by his chest, but he smacks your hand away.
You try to fight, thrashing in his hold as he didn’t make a move to stop his hips, fucking you like it’s his first time and your tears fall on instinct.
“No! Stop! I think I’m gonna pee!!” You almost scream, frantic at the thought and he laughs at you.
“If you really want me to stop, you know what to say.” Seonghwa replied, not even trying to slow down. His thrusts grew faster, pushing you up on the bed as your body jostled from the force of his thrusts.
You cry out, legs shaking so hard as your pussy starts releasing clear liquid, spurt after spurt of it shoots out of you making you sob in shame.
You clench around Seonghwa’s cock one last time, holding him tight like a vice, leaving the man with no choice but to bury himself deep inside of you and cum.
Seonghwa trembles from the force of his climax, releasing his cum right inside of your sloppy pussy and makes no move to pull out until he has filled you with every last drop. He looks down at you and sees you shaking as your eyes start to lose focus, clouded with haze as he basks in the force of his orgasm.
Seonghwa lowers himself, lips brushing against your ear. “That’s not pee, you dumb bitch. You just squirted like the slut you are.”
You don’t say anything, you just whine as Seonghwa finally pulls out of you, his cum oozing out of your pussy.Your legs close, body shaking as the pleasure wracks your whole body.
And then you pass out.
You blink, shuffling on the bed as you finally come to. Your body was heavy the same way your eyes were and your muscles were sore. You momentarily forgot how you got into that situation until the smell of cigarettes entered your nostrils.
The room was cold, but the blanket wrapped around your body provided the warmth you needed.
Your eyes open fully taking in the man resting against the headboard right beside you blowing out smoke from his lips.
You sit up despite your aching back’s protests, catching Seonghwa’s attention as you do, and the reality of what just happened finally sinks in. You fume—confused, overwhelmed, and even more embarrassed.
“You’re finally awake,” Seonghwa says and you can’t believe what you’re seeing and hearing.
Seonghwa was here.
It’s not him in the form of a letter, handwriting or an envelope. It’s him right beside you, smoking a cigarette, eyes piercing and deeper than his image indicated on the website, his hair was silver and it reaches up to the nape of his neck, features soft and his lips are quirked up in amusement.
You gape, not knowing what to say.
“What?” He says, chuckling. Obviously too amused at the way you were gawking at him.
“Well—I didn’t expect you to be here.” You tell him, voice scratchy from overuse and you clear your throat, ashamed as the memories of why that was floods your mind again.
Seonghwa chuckles once more, crushing his cigarette on a paper he had laid out by the bedside table and leans closer to you, caressing your hair.
“Well, I came for you, baby.” He says, leaning closer to reach for your cheek and plants a kiss on it.
“But… But don’t you have a life sentence? How come you’re here? How’d you get here?” You ask, question after question running through your mind.
Seonghwa pauses, caught off guard but he tries hard not to let it show.
“Does that matter?” He asks back, chuckling as his hands lower to your arm tugging you closer to try and capture your lips but you turn your face away slightly, brows furrowing.
“Seonghwa,” you begin, your eyes unfocused as your face relaxes and your mind tries to make sense of everything. “I never got to ask.”
Seonghwa pauses, pulling back to give you a bit of space as you press a hand lightly to his chest.
“How’d you end up in prison?”
Seonghwa studies your face, noticing how you refuse to meet his eyes, and a grin plays at his lips. Out of what? you couldn’t tell.
“You really do ask the right questions, baby.” He says, leaning back on the headboard as the grin never once vanished from his face.
He stays leaning there, eyes looking ahead as the smile slowly fades and his face morphs into something you can’t understand when you finally lift your eyes to look at the man you barely knew.
“You wanna know what crime made me end up with a life sentence?” Seonghwa asks, turning to look at you as your eyes finally meet.
Only this time, your eyes faltered as Seonghwa’s turned piercingly cold.
“It’s rape.”
A/N: it feels wrong to upload this an hour after leaving from church. I gotta go repent
︵ ೀ fluff. you call satoru by his last name in public and he is a bit dramatic about it
the staff meeting at jujutsu high was supposed to be the most boring hour of your week, the kind where yaga talks about statistics and everyone quietly checks how many minutes are left before they can go get lunch.
but you and satoru had gotten into a fight that morning, one of those stupid arguments that starts over something small and somehow spirals into “well maybe you just don’t think about anyone but yourself,” and neither of you had really resolved it before you both had to show up to work like functioning adults.
so when he strolled into the conference room fifteen minutes late, blindfold pushed up onto his head, grinning like the whole world owed him a good morning, you didn’t even glance up from your notebook.
“morning, morning, did everyone miss me?” he said, dropping into the seat next to yours like nothing at all had happened between the two of you a few hours earlier.
“gojo,” you said, without looking up, your voice perfectly even, like you were greeting a coworker you barely knew.
the entire room seemed to freeze for a second. not satoru. not babe, not the nickname you swore you’d never use in public but absolutely used constantly at home. just gojo, delivered with all the warmth of a weather report.
nanami’s eyebrows climbed so high they nearly disappeared into his hairline. shoko made a small choking sound and had to set her coffee cup down before she embarrassed herself further. even yaga, who had seen a thousand strange things happen in this school, paused his sentence about budget allocations to look between the two of you like he’d wandered into the middle of a drama he hadn’t signed up for.
satoru blinked, the smile faltering just slightly at the corners. “huh?”
you flipped a page in your notebook and underlined something that absolutely did not need underlining, just to have somewhere to put your hands.
“did you,” he started, sitting up straighter now, all his earlier ease draining out of him, “did you seriously just gojo me?”
“can we please get back to the agenda,” you said, addressing the room in general rather than him specifically.
nanami cleared his throat and tried to steer things back on track. “as i was saying, the eastern district has seen an uptick in curse activity over the past—”
“she gojo’d me,” satoru interrupted, loud enough that the whole table heard it, staring at you with the wounded expression of a man who had just watched his house burn down in front of him. “in front of everyone. she used my last name like i’m a substitute teacher.”
you still didn’t look at him. you clicked your pen closed, then open again, then closed, a habit you knew drove him up the wall, and said nothing at all.
“focus, gojo,” you said again, watching the way his whole soul seemed to leave his body when you said it a second time was a little more satisfying than you’d expected.
“okay. okay, everybody hold on,” satoru said, raising both hands like he was trying to talk down an actual hostage situation. “nobody move, nobody speak, something has gone horribly wrong here. she just used my government name. in public. on purpose.”
“that is your name,” nanami pointed out, deadpan, not even looking up from his own notes.
“not to her it isn’t! not in four years has she ever once called me gojo, and now suddenly, out of nowhere, in the middle of a staff meeting, she’s talking to me like i’m a stranger she met at the post office—” he turned to you again, voice climbing with real panic now. “okay, you know what, meeting’s over, everyone go home, thank you for coming, we’ll reschedule—”
“the meeting,” yaga said flatly, unimpressed, “is not over.”
“it is for me!” satoru stood so fast his chair scraped loudly against the floor, then leaned across the table toward you, blindfold slipping further down his forehead, genuine desperation creeping into his voice. “what did i do. just tell me what i did and i’ll fix it. is this about the mission partner thing? it’s the mission partner thing, isn’t it. i can undo it. i can un-fix the fixing. i can grovel right here in front of everyone if that’s what this requires—”
you finally looked up to deliver the final blow with the sweetest, most devastating calm you could manage:
“i’m not sure what you mean, gojo. we’re in the middle of a meeting.”
that was the moment the room completely lost it. shoko was laughing so hard into her coffee cup that she had to set it down entirely, wiping at her eyes. nanami pressed a hand over his face like he was praying for the strength to survive this job for one more day. even yaga, who never smiled during meetings on principle, was clearly biting back one now, badly.
“that’s it,” satoru said, dropping back into his chair. “fine. that’s fine. be like that. see if i care. i am literally the strongest sorcerer in the world and i am being disrespected in my own place of employment, in front of my own coworkers, by my own—” he lowered his voice for the last part, leaning toward you like it was a secret, “—girlfriend, who apparently doesn’t remember that we live together and that i know exactly what cereal she eats and exactly what she looks like without—”
“gojo,” nanami cut in, exhausted, “please let the meeting continue.”
“see! even he can feel that something is deeply wrong here! the temperature in this room actually dropped! shoko, did the temperature just drop or was that just me—”
you allowed yourself the smallest, most private smile, tucked safely behind the cover of your notebook, as the strongest sorcerer alive continued to unravel in real time over exactly one syllable of his own last name, in front of the entire senior staff of jujutsu high, on a random tuesday morning.
by the time you got home that evening, satoru had clearly spent the whole day rehearsing something, because the second you walked through the door he was already there, hovering, almost vibrating with nervous energy like a dog that knows it did something wrong but isn’t sure what.
“okay so,” he said, following you into the kitchen, “i’ve been thinking about this literally all day, and i want to formally apologize, on the record, for the mission partner thing, and also i want to say, for the record, that what you did today was actually kind of terrifying and i need you to never do it again.”
“do what,” you said, setting your bag down like you had no idea what he could possibly mean, even though you absolutely did.
“you know what,” he said, sliding an arm around your waist from behind before you could even take your jacket off, chin dropping onto your shoulder. “the gojo thing. please. i’m begging you. never again.”
“it’s your name,” you said, echoing nanami from earlier, and you felt him groan directly into your shoulder.
“it is not my name when you say it like that,” he mumbled. “when you say it like that it sounds like you’re breaking up with me in front of witnesses. i had to sit there for an entire meeting wondering if this was it, if this was the day my girlfriend decided she’d had enough of me and was breaking the news.”
you turned around in his arms, biting back a laugh, and he immediately seized the opportunity to rest his forehead against yours, eyes closed like he was bracing for more punishment.
“so you admit you deserved it,” you said.
“i admit nothing,” he said, “except that i am deeply, deeply sorry, and that i will never again swap your mission partner without telling you first, and that if you ever call me gojo again in public i will actually die.”
“say please.”
“please,” he said immediately, no hesitation at all, pulling you in tighter like he was worried you might change your mind and use his last name right there in the kitchen just to torture him further. “please, please, i’ll do anything, i’ll even do paperwork, just—just be normal about it. call me anything else. call me an idiot, call me insufferable, i don’t care, just not that.”
“fine,” you said, finally letting the smile show. “satoru.”
the relief on his face was almost embarrassing, the way his whole body seemed to unclench at once, like you’d just lifted some enormous curse off him.
“thank you,” he said, dramatic as ever, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, then finally your mouth. “never again. i mean it. that was the scariest six words of my entire life and i’ve fought curses that wanted to eat my ass.”
“it was one word,” you pointed out.
“it felt like six,” he said, and pulled you into a hug so tight it nearly knocked the breath out of you, laughing into your hair, all traces of this morning’s fight forgiven, or at least thoroughly overridden by how badly he never wanted to hear his own last name from you again.
I’m thinking about nanami who has a not so secret crush professional interest in gojo’s wife (fem!reader). nsfw 18+ drabble. mlist
──── ୨୧ ────
On Nanami’s birthday he enjoys the celebration and praise from everyone, but there’s one little thing nagging at the back of his mind through all the cakes and badly wrapped tie pins. He doesn’t say anything, but your presence is pointedly missing, and that tiny fact is enough to dampen his spirits despite the jovial atmosphere. He’s a little grumpy by the end of the day as a result, more so by the way Gojo seems to be hell bent on clinging to him. After one too maybe bear hugs he finally makes a remark, a snide little comment about how he much prefers Gojo’s “other half”. Gojo just grins that same shit-eating grin as usual, but his grip on Nanami’s shoulder is tight when he chirps in reply “let’s go see her then, right now!”.
Nanami barely has the chance to open his mouth before he’s engulfed in a sizzle of energy. Gojo’s hand still firmly clasped over his shoulder, he finds himself standing in an unfamiliar bedroom, and when his vision finally focuses he chokes at the sight that greets him. It’s you, blindfolded, splayed over crisp white sheets and wrapped up like a gift. Each bare limb is glittering, bound expertly in an intricate banding of yellow ribbon - his favourite colour. He hadn’t had a favourite colour before, not until he’d seen you waltz in one morning donning a yellow sundress, looking like a beam of sunlight personified. He sees you in the daisies that pepper the footpath, the warmth of a summer day, the sand beneath his feet on the beachside, and now in the restraints lacing each of your oiled limbs like a bow atop a gift he’s been pining after for years - and it’s all just too much.
He’s speechless, unable to even lift a finger to argue when Gojo guides him into a chair directly across from where you’re perched on the bed, giving him a stellar view of just how far gone you already are. Nanami is dizzy, tenfold when his eyes roam down and he notices the little red light blinking between your spread thighs, tucked beneath a pair of pale blue panties already soaked through and glistening a little with the vibration.
Gojo’s smile has settled into a sharp line, and his voice is low and cutting when he leans down to purr into Nanami’s ear, his hands massaging either tense shoulder. “You wanted to fuck my wife, right? Well take it all in Nanamin, this is the closest you’re ever gonna get.”
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Toji with baby fever…who never thought he’d ever want another kid- don’t get him wrong, Megs is a sweet kid…deep down, but he can only handle so many more 67s. Toji who then catches it- the second that Megumi accidentally calls you ‘mama’ - and you’re cooing, Megumi’s blushing and pretending he said otherwise, and Toji—oh, Toji feels something stir deep within him. Toji who asks in the dead of night-“What’s this whole ‘mama’ thing about now?”
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"finally," you mutter to yourself, scrolling through apartment listings on your cracked phone screen.
the ad looked sketchy as hell. no photos. barely any details. just an address in a decent neighborhood, a rent cheap enough to make you suspicious, and a single name.
sukuna.
conditions list: no guests, no pets, quiet after 10 pm. you could live with that. desperation makes it sound reasonable after three failed viewings today alone. you stared at it for a second before snorting. whatever.
you dial the number, heart pounding when a deep, bored voice answers.
"yeah?" sukuna's voice cuts through.
“oh—hi! I was calling about the apartment.”
he started firing questions like bullets without so much as a hello in between. age, job, why you need the place. by the end of it, you felt less like a potential tenant and more like you were being interrogated at a police station.
you stammer answers, relief flooding you when he grunts an approval. “oh, thank god. I really—”
“hang on.”
your stomach dropped again. another pause. then you heard him speak, slower this time.
“Is this you?”
“huh?”
“the profile picture.”
you frowned, glancing at the tiny icon on your screen. “uh... yeah?”
he didn't answer immediately. Instead, a low chuckle crackled through the speaker, the sound oddly amused.
“so...” he drawled. “you really want this place?”
“yes,” you said a little too quickly. “please. I don't really have any other choice.”
he went silent again. long enough to make you wonder if the call had dropped.
"then one more condition. non-negotiable."
you brace yourself, grip tightenening around the phone. "sure."
"free use. while you’re living here."
confusion knots your stomach. free use? like sharing stuff? wi-fi? sure, you barely own a coffee mug, anyways. In every angle, he's the one who getting the short end of the stick.
"deal," you agree quickly, without another thought, far too tired and far too desperate to question what he'd actually meant.
***
the moving truck pulls away as you lug your last box into the shared apartment's dim hallway.
sukuna leans against the doorframe of his room, arms crossed over a tight black t-shirt that strains against thick muscle. he doesn't offer help, just watches with hooded crimson eyes as you struggle past him.
"kitchen rules," he states flatly. "clean your shit when you're done. my space stays untouched."
you nod, throat tight. his presence feels like a physical weight. heavy and territorial.
for two days, you tiptoe around him, microwaving dinners silently while he ignores you completely, sprawled on the couch scrolling his phone. the silence is suffocating, but at least the rent's paid.
by the third morning, you're scrambling eggs in the kitchen while the coffee brewed beside you. It wasn't until you heard footsteps approaching that you realized you probably should've changed first.
you'd rolled straight out of bed and into the kitchen wearing the same tank top and tiny sleep shorts you'd fallen asleep in, never expecting sukuna to be awake this early.
the sound of footsteps stopped in the doorway. he looked like he'd only just gotten out of bed too, hair still messy from sleep, only a pair of gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips.
then you caught him looking at you. long enough to make you suddenly, painfully aware of what you were wearing. heat crept up your neck as you shifted your weight awkwardly, instinctively tugging at the hem of your tank top.
"...morning," you mumbled, clearing your throat as if that would somehow make the moment any less awkward.
he didn't say anything, just crowds you against the counter, his heat searing your back. one hand shoves aside your hair, his mouth lands on your neck. a wet, biting kiss that steals your breath.
"what—" you gasp, but his palm slides under your top, rough fingers pinching your nipple hard.
you blinked blank, very much confused. It took a second. then another. before your brain finally connected the dots.
uh-oh.
"still fine with it?" he growls against your ear.
the eggs were burning as his other hand slips between your thighs. you nod dumbly, the sizzle of the pan drowned by your pounding heart. but hey, even if it was a little misunderstanding, you weren't exactly complaining.
sukuna’s laugh rumbles against your spine, dark and satisfied. "good."
he doesn’t ask. just shoves your shorts down your hips, letting them pool at your ankles. the cold granite counter bites into your palms as he bends you over it, one hand fisting in your hair while the other spreads you open.
you gasp at the sudden intrusion, his thick fingers pushing inside without warning, rough and demanding. eggs char black in the pan beside you, smoke curling toward the ceiling as he pumps his fingers deep, scissoring them until you’re slick and trembling.
"quiet," he orders when you whimper, slapping your ass hard enough to leave a stinging print. "neighbours are nosy."
he flips you around like it’s nothing, hoisting your legs over his shoulders. your back arches hard off the counter as he yanks his pants down, and your eyes widen. fuck.
his cock was the biggest monster. thicker and heavier than the rest of him, dark red at the tip like it's angry at you. he’s really gonna put that in you?? lord have mercy...
he pumps it twice in his fist, before he starts poking and slapping the fat head against your pussy. the wet smacks makes you cry out. he shoots you a sharp look.
you slap your own hand over your mouth real quick, eyes rolling back as he massages your poor pussy with his mean cock. It feels more like he’s hitting and bullying your folds than actually rubbing. but those heavy slaps right on your swollen bud, make your thighs shake like crazy. you can’t think straight at all.
he gives your pussy a few more light, teasing taps, then finally lines it up on your hole and pushes in, inch by brutal inch, stretching you open wide as he buries himself deep inside you, bottoming out with a satisfied groan.
sukuna grins down at you, all sharp teeth and hunger. "knew you were tight," he rasps, hips pistoning.
every snap of his hips slams you against the counter’s edge, your jaw dropped open as he fucks you raw. you claw at his forearms, nails scraping ink-black tattoos as he uses you like a toy, relentless.
smoke thickens the air, the ruined eggs forgotten. your legs tremble around his neck, thighs slick with your own arousal and his sweat. he pins your wrists above your head, leaning close enough for you to taste his breath, hot and faintly metallic.
"look at you," he snarls, thrusts turning deeper. "best roomie ever."
you whimper, arching into each punishing stroke, the counter digging bruises into your spine. his pace stutters, a low groan tears from his throat as he spills inside you, filling you with pulsing heat. he holds you there, until he empties the very last drop in you.
he pulls out slowly, leaving you leaking on the countertop. sukuna doesn’t glance back as he grabs a towel to wipe himself off, very casual, like he’d just taken out the trash.
"clean this up," he grunts, nodding at the sticky mess between your thighs and the charred pan still smoking on the stove.
you slide down, legs shaky as noodles, shorts still tangled around your ankles. the cold air hits your skin where his sweat had been, making you shiver. you fumble for a cloth, avoiding the smirk he throws over his shoulder before disappearing down the hall.
***
the next few days blur into a rhythm controlled by him. you’re bent over the couch armrest in the middle of his match, his huge hand clamped tight over your mouth to muffle your moans while he rails your cunt from behind. hard and fast, brutal strokes like he’s trying to break you before the game ends. later he drags you into the shower, water running over both of you as he pins you face-first against the cold tiles, fingers digging bruises into your hips, and fucks you raw again.
you learn real quick to keep lube stashed in every damn room. you don’t complain. not when he wakes you at 3 am by ripping your panties to the side, sinking his teeth into your shoulder, and shoving himself balls-deep inside you. not when he casually palms your cunt under the table, thick fingers teasing your clit while he scrolls on his phone, then just walks away and leaves you leaking and aching.
his rules are simple: stay available, spread your legs, keep your mouth shut, let him use that sloppy pussy whenever he wants, and take every load he pumps into you. and god, what he gives is good.
It’s clear now. his “condition” meant exactly what he said. and you… you’ve stopped questioning it. you just take it like a slut he’s turning you into.
nanami’s veiny cock stretched you open over the sink, the dishes long forgotten in your hands. you could feel your knees threatening to give out every time he snapped his hips forward, feeling tears streaming down your cheeks as loud moans left your parted lips. “kento—please—”
nanami's gaze never left your body. he observed how it jiggled with even the slightest movement. you could feel every vein of him inside you, his pink tip brushing deliciously against your cervix.
your husband pressed his damp forehead against your shoulder as he slammed his hips into you relentlessly, cock twitching at your tightness. your own slick dripped down your thighs.
"looking so pretty for me—fuck, so tight—like the perfect little wife.” he mumbled, unable to stop himself. sliding his hand down to rub excruciatingly slow circles on your sensitive bud, which you responded by letting out a sharp cry.
you could feel yourself growing closer and closer to your orgasm, moaning loudly enough for the entire building to hear (already bracing yourself for the noise complaints you were undoubtedly going to receive tomorrow). you bit your bottom lip, trying your best to muffle the sounds escaping you. "nanami—feels s’good!" you gasped. "so deep, kento—gonna—"
you weren't able to finish your words as a warm wave of pleasure washed over your body, leaving you shaking and gushing on him. "yes, darling. make a mess on kento. such a good girl." nanami gritted through his teeth.
"please, cum inside me. i need your cum" you whimpered.
nanami's cock twitched once, twice, before he came inside you with a loud groan. filling you so deep you were dripping with his cum. his hips snapped forward one last time before he slowly pulled out and held you as you steadied yourself.
"did i leave you unsatisfied last night, kento?" you joked breathlessly, and the two of you chuckled.
“i fear that would be impossible” he replied softly. "i’m sorry, my love. you just looked too gorgeous."
you adjusted your dress, turned to face him and wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your soft lips against his. there was nothing more nanami could wish for.
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made by toruslut. idk how i feel abt this one but ugh isn’t he just so dreamy
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