#ckxreader

"Kwon please-" you gasp and squirm under his hot touch as he slowly thrusts into your swollen cunt. He laughs at your pathetic phase, grabbing your chin to make you stare at him. "Oh dont be complaining baby..." Kwon said, his tip hitting a sensitive spot in your cunt that makes you grip onto the sheets for dear life.

"Kwon! There-" Your demands sent him over the edge. One second your beneath him and the next, he flips you over so your on top.

"Go ahead baby, do what you want." You widen your eyes, baffled by his bold action. "What- but-"

"Ride me before I leave you with no orgasm." He stared up at you with a clenched jaw. His dark and fierce eyes burned into yours before you knew it you were riding him, slowly. "Faster baby cmon..." He threw your words back at you. You looked away, embarrassed by his degradation.

sғᴡ

- ʜᴀʀᴅ ᴇxᴛᴇʀɪᴏʀ, sᴏғᴛ ғᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ: ᴡᴏʟғ ɪs ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇғɪɴɪᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ᴛᴏᴜɢʜ ʟᴏᴠᴇ. ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ ᴇʟsᴇ, ʜᴇ’s ᴄᴏʟᴅ, sᴛʀɪᴄᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴜɴᴡᴀᴠᴇʀɪɴɢ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴡʜᴇɴ ɪᴛ ᴄᴏᴍᴇs ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ? ʜɪs ᴡᴀʟʟs ᴄʀᴀᴄᴋ. ʜᴇ’s sᴛɪʟʟ ɴᴏᴛ ᴏᴠᴇʀʟʏ ᴀғғᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴᴀᴛᴇ ɪɴ ᴘᴜʙʟɪᴄ, ʙᴜᴛ ʙᴇʜɪɴᴅ ᴄʟᴏsᴇᴅ ᴅᴏᴏʀs, ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴇᴛ ᴛᴏ sᴇᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴀʀᴇ, sᴏғᴛᴇʀ sɪᴅᴇ ᴏғ ʜɪᴍ.

- ᴘᴏssᴇssɪᴠᴇ ʙᴜᴛ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟʟɪɴɢ: ʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴇsɴ’ᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ɢᴜʏs ʟᴏᴏᴋɪɴɢ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ғᴏʀ ᴛᴏᴏ ʟᴏɴɢ. ʜᴇ ᴡᴏɴ’ᴛ sᴛᴀʀᴛ ᴀ ғɪɢʜᴛ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ɪᴛ, ʙᴜᴛ ʜɪs ʙᴏᴅʏ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ sʜɪғᴛs—ᴊᴀᴡ ᴄʟᴇɴᴄʜᴇᴅ, ᴀʀᴍs ᴄʀᴏssᴇᴅ, sᴛᴀɴᴅɪɴɢ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴄʟᴏsᴇʀ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ. ɪғ sᴏᴍᴇᴏɴᴇ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴅɪsʀᴇsᴘᴇᴄᴛs ʏᴏᴜ, ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜ? ᴡᴏʟғ ᴡɪʟʟ ʜᴀɴᴅʟᴇ ɪᴛ, ɴᴏ ʜᴇsɪᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ.

- ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴛʏᴘᴇ: ʜᴇ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ᴍᴀᴋᴇs sᴜʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ sᴀғᴇ. ᴇᴠᴇɴ ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ sᴛʀᴏɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴅᴇᴘᴇɴᴅᴇɴᴛ, ʜᴇ’ʟʟ ᴅᴏᴜʙʟᴇ-ᴄʜᴇᴄᴋ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴏᴄᴋᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴅᴏᴏʀ, ᴡᴀʟᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴀʀ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴsɪsᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀʟʟ ʜɪᴍ ɪғ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴs. ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ɪɴᴠᴏʟᴠᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴋᴀʀᴀᴛᴇ, ʜᴇ ᴛʀᴀɪɴs ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴᴀʟʟʏ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ sᴜʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ʜᴏʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ.

- ᴀ ᴍᴀɴ ᴏғ ғᴇᴡ ᴡᴏʀᴅs (ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴍᴀᴛᴛᴇʀ): ᴡᴏʟғ ᴅᴏᴇsɴ’ᴛ ʀᴀᴍʙʟᴇ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʜɪs ғᴇᴇʟɪɴɢs, ʙᴜᴛ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴇs sᴀʏ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ sᴡᴇᴇᴛ, ɪᴛ ʜɪᴛs. sɪᴍᴘʟᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢs ʟɪᴋᴇ “ʏᴏᴜ ᴅɪᴅ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴛᴏᴅᴀʏ” ᴏʀ “ɪ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʟᴏsᴇ ʏᴏᴜ” ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴇsɴ’ᴛ sᴀʏ ᴛʜɪɴɢs ʟɪɢʜᴛʟʏ.

- ᴀᴄᴛs ᴏғ sᴇʀᴠɪᴄᴇ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ᴡᴏʀᴅs: ʜᴇ ᴡᴏɴ’ᴛ ɢᴜsʜ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʜɪs ʟᴏᴠᴇ ғᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ, ʙᴜᴛ ʜᴇ’ʟʟ sʜᴏᴡ ɪᴛ ɪɴ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴀʏs—ғɪxɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪɴɢs ғᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ, ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴏғғᴇᴇ ᴏʀᴅᴇʀ, ᴘᴜʟʟɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɢᴀɪɴsᴛ ʜɪs ᴄʜᴇsᴛ ᴀғᴛᴇʀ ᴀ ʟᴏɴɢ ᴅᴀʏ. ɪᴛ’s ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʏ ʜᴇ ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜᴇs ᴏᴠᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜ, ᴇᴠᴇɴ ɪғ ʜᴇ ᴘʀᴇᴛᴇɴᴅs ʜᴇ’s ɴᴏᴛ.

- ᴀʀɢᴜᴍᴇɴᴛs ɢᴇᴛ ʜᴇᴀᴛᴇᴅ: ʜᴇ ʜᴀs ᴀ ᴛᴇᴍᴘᴇʀ, ᴀɴᴅ sᴏ ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ. ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴡᴏ ғɪɢʜᴛ, ɪᴛ’s ɪɴᴛᴇɴsᴇ—sᴛᴜʙʙᴏʀɴ ɢʟᴀʀᴇs, sʜᴀʀᴘ ᴡᴏʀᴅs, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴇɴsɪᴏɴ sᴏ ᴛʜɪᴄᴋ ɪᴛ’s sᴜғғᴏᴄᴀᴛɪɴɢ. ʙᴜᴛ ᴏɴᴄᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢs ᴄᴏᴏʟ ᴅᴏᴡɴ, ᴡᴏʟғ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ғɪɴᴅs ᴀ ᴡᴀʏ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴜᴘ ғᴏʀ ɪᴛ. ᴀ ᴅᴇᴇᴘ, ʀᴀsᴘʏ ᴀᴘᴏʟᴏɢʏ. ᴀ ʟɪɴɢᴇʀɪɴɢ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜ. ᴀ ʀᴀʀᴇ ʙᴜᴛ ᴍᴇᴀɴɪɴɢғᴜʟ “ɪ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ.”

- sᴏғᴛ ɪɴ ᴘʀɪᴠᴀᴛᴇ: ɪɴ ᴘᴜʙʟɪᴄ, ʜᴇ’s ᴀʟʟ ʙᴜsɪɴᴇss. ʙᴜᴛ ᴡʜᴇɴ ɪᴛ’s ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜ? ʜᴇ ʟᴇᴛs ʜɪᴍsᴇʟғ ʀᴇʟᴀx. ʜᴇ’ʟʟ ʟᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜ sɪᴛ ᴏɴ ʜɪs ʟᴀᴘ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ʜᴇ ʟᴇᴀɴs ʙᴀᴄᴋ, ᴀʀᴍs ʟᴀᴢɪʟʏ ᴡʀᴀᴘᴘᴇᴅ ᴀʀᴏᴜɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ, ʜɪs ɴᴏsᴇ ʙʀᴜsʜɪɴɢ ᴀɢᴀɪɴsᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴛᴇᴍᴘʟᴇ. ɪᴛ’s ʜɪs ᴡᴀʏ ᴏғ ɢʀᴏᴜɴᴅɪɴɢ ʜɪᴍsᴇʟғ—ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ʜɪs ᴘᴇᴀᴄᴇ ɪɴ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴀᴏs.

- ʟᴏʏᴀʟ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏʀᴇ: ɪғ ᴡᴏʟғ ᴄʜᴏᴏsᴇs ʏᴏᴜ, ʜᴇ ᴄʜᴏᴏsᴇs ʏᴏᴜ. ɴᴏ ɢᴀᴍᴇs, ɴᴏ ʜᴇsɪᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ. ᴏɴᴄᴇ ʜᴇ’s ɪɴ, ʜᴇ’s ᴀʟʟ ɪɴ. ᴇᴠᴇɴ ɪғ ʜᴇ sᴛʀᴜɢɢʟᴇs ᴛᴏ ᴇxᴘʀᴇss ɪᴛ sᴏᴍᴇᴛɪᴍᴇs, ʜᴇ’s ʏᴏᴜʀs, ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ’ʟʟ ᴅᴏ ᴡʜᴀᴛᴇᴠᴇʀ ɪᴛ ᴛᴀᴋᴇs ᴛᴏ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ʏᴏᴜ.

ɴsғᴡ

- ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴅᴀᴍɴ sᴍɪʀᴋ: ᴡᴏʟғ ᴋɴᴏᴡs ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʜᴇ’s ᴅᴏɪɴɢ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʜᴇ ɢɪᴠᴇs ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜᴀᴛ sʟᴏᴡ, ᴄᴏᴄᴋʏ sᴍɪʀᴋ, ᴇʏᴇs ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀᴍᴜsᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ. ʜᴇ’ʟʟ ʟᴇᴀɴ ɪɴ ᴄʟᴏsᴇ, ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ᴅʀᴏᴘᴘɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴀ ʟᴏᴡ ʀᴀsᴘ ᴀs ʜᴇ ᴍᴜʀᴍᴜʀs, “ʏᴏᴜ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ʟᴏᴏᴋɪɴɢ ᴀᴛ ᴍᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ, sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴡᴇ’ʀᴇ ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ᴘʀᴏʙʟᴇᴍ.” ʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏs ʟᴏᴏᴋɪɴɢ ᴜᴘ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴀᴛ sᴀᴍᴇ sᴍɪʀᴋ ᴀs ʜᴇ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇs sᴏғᴛ ʟɪᴄᴋs ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴏʀᴇ.

- ᴛʀᴀɪɴɪɴɢ ɢᴇᴛs… ɪɴᴛᴇɴsᴇ: sᴘᴀʀʀɪɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴡᴏʟғ ɪs ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ʜᴀʀᴅ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴇɴsɪᴏɴ? ᴜɴʙᴇᴀʀᴀʙʟᴇ. ʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴇsɴ’ᴛ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴄᴏʀʀᴇᴄᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ғᴏʀᴍ—ʜᴇ sᴛᴀɴᴅs ʙᴇʜɪɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ, ʜɪs ʜᴀɴᴅs ғɪʀᴍʟʏ ɢᴜɪᴅɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀs, ʜɪs ʙʀᴇᴀᴛʜ ʜᴏᴛ ᴀɢᴀɪɴsᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴇᴀʀ. ʜɪs ʙᴏɴᴇʀ ɢʀᴀᴢɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀss ᴡʜᴇɴ ʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴠᴇs. ᴀɴᴅ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ᴘɪɴɴᴇᴅ ʙᴇɴᴇᴀᴛʜ ʜɪᴍ ᴀғᴛᴇʀ ᴀ ᴛᴀᴋᴇᴅᴏᴡɴ? ʜɪs ʟɪᴘs ᴛᴡɪᴛᴄʜ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴀ sᴍɪʀᴋ ᴀs ʜᴇ ᴍᴜʀᴍᴜʀs, “ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ᴛᴀᴘ ᴏᴜᴛ, ᴏʀ ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴍᴇ?” ɪᴛ's ɪɴsᴀɴᴇ ʜᴏᴡ ᴍᴀɴʏ ᴛɪᴍᴇs ᴛʀᴀɪɴɪɴɢ ᴛᴜʀɴs ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴀ ᴏ̨ᴜɪᴄᴋ ғᴜᴄᴋ ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ sᴛᴜᴅᴇɴᴛs ᴀʀʀɪᴠᴇ.

- ᴛᴇᴀsɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴘᴜʙʟɪᴄ, ᴘᴀʏʙᴀᴄᴋ ɪɴ ᴘʀɪᴠᴀᴛᴇ: ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʀʏ ᴛᴏ ғʟᴜsᴛᴇʀ ʜɪᴍ ɪɴ ғʀᴏɴᴛ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀs—ᴍᴀʏʙᴇ ʙʀᴜsʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ғɪɴɢᴇʀs ᴀʟᴏɴɢ ʜɪs ᴄʀᴏᴛᴄʜ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴛᴏᴏ sʟᴏᴡʟʏ ᴏʀ ɢɪᴠɪɴɢ ʜɪᴍ ᴀɴ ɪɴɴᴏᴄᴇɴᴛ ʟᴏᴏᴋ ᴛʜᴀᴛ’s ɴᴏᴛ sᴏ ɪɴɴᴏᴄᴇɴᴛ—ʜᴇ ᴡᴏɴ’ᴛ ʀᴇᴀᴄᴛ ʀɪɢʜᴛ ᴀᴡᴀʏ. ʙᴜᴛ ʟᴀᴛᴇʀ? ᴏʜ, ʜᴇ ᴍᴀᴋᴇs ʏᴏᴜ ᴘᴀʏ ғᴏʀ ɪᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ's ᴘɪssᴇᴅ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs. ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴘʀᴇssᴇᴅ ᴀɢᴀɪɴsᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʟʟ, ʜɪs ʟɪᴘs ʙᴀʀᴇʟʏ ɢʜᴏsᴛɪɴɢ ᴏᴠᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴀs ʜᴇ ʀᴀsᴘs, “ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ᴘʟᴀʏ ɢᴀᴍᴇs, sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ? ʟᴇᴛ’s sᴇᴇ ʜᴏᴡ ᴍᴀɴʏ sǫᴜɪʀᴛs ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴍᴇ.”

- ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴀɴᴅɪɴɢ ᴘʀᴇsᴇɴᴄᴇ: ᴡᴏʟғ ᴅᴏᴇsɴ’ᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴀsᴋ ғᴏʀ ᴛʜɪɴɢs—ʜᴇ ᴛᴇʟʟs ʏᴏᴜ. ᴡʜᴇᴛʜᴇʀ ɪᴛ’s ᴀ sɪᴍᴘʟᴇ “ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ” ᴏʀ ᴀ ғɪʀᴍ “sᴛᴀʏ sᴛɪʟʟ” ᴡʜᴇɴ ʜᴇ’s ᴛᴇᴀsɪɴɢ, ʜɪs ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ᴀʟᴏɴᴇ ɪs ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛᴏ sᴇɴᴅ sʜɪᴠᴇʀs ᴅᴏᴡɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ sᴘɪɴᴇ. ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʏ ʜᴇ ʟᴏᴏᴋs ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ? ʟɪᴋᴇ ʜᴇ’s ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ᴏғ ᴛᴇɴ ᴅɪғғᴇʀᴇɴᴛ ᴡᴀʏs ᴛᴏ ʀᴜɪɴ ʏᴏᴜ."sᴛᴏᴘ ғᴜᴄᴋɪɴɢ ᴍᴏᴠɪɴɢ ᴏʀ ɪ'ʟʟ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴜɴғɪɴɪsʜᴇᴅ." ʜᴇ'ʟʟ ᴡʜɪsᴘᴇʀ ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴇᴀʀ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴏᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴀss ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ʜɪs ᴄᴏᴄᴋ.

- ᴛᴇɴsɪᴏɴ ᴀғᴛᴇʀ ᴀʀɢᴜᴍᴇɴᴛs: ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡᴏʟғ ғɪɢʜᴛ ʜᴀʀᴅ—sʜᴀʀᴘ ᴡᴏʀᴅs, sᴛᴏʀᴍʏ ɢʟᴀʀᴇs, ʙᴏᴛʜ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏᴏ ᴅᴀᴍɴ sᴛᴜʙʙᴏʀɴ. ʙᴜᴛ ᴏɴᴄᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴀɴɢᴇʀ sɪᴍᴍᴇʀs ᴅᴏᴡɴ? ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴛᴇɴsɪᴏɴ ʟɪɴɢᴇʀs. ʜᴇ’ʟʟ ᴄᴏʀɴᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜ, ʜɪs ᴇʏᴇs ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴀs ʜᴇ ɢʀɪᴛs ᴏᴜᴛ, “ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴᴇ ʀᴜɴɴɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴀᴛ sᴍᴀʀᴛ ᴍᴏᴜᴛʜ ᴏғ ʏᴏᴜʀs?” ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ᴄʀᴀsʜɪɴɢ ʜɪs ʟɪᴘs ᴀɢᴀɪɴsᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀs, ᴀʟʟ ʜᴇᴀᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴇsᴘᴇʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ. ʜᴇ'ʟʟ ᴘᴜsʜ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴋɴᴇᴇs ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴜsᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʙʀᴀᴛᴛʏ ᴍᴏᴜᴛʜ ғᴏʀ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ.

- ʀᴏᴜɢʜ ʜᴀɴᴅs, ɢᴇɴᴛʟᴇ ᴛᴏᴜᴄʜ: ʜɪs ʜᴀɴᴅs ᴀʀᴇ ᴄᴀʟʟᴏᴜsᴇᴅ, ʀᴏᴜɢʜ ғʀᴏᴍ ʏᴇᴀʀs ᴏғ ᴛʀᴀɪɴɪɴɢ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇʏ’ʀᴇ ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜ? ʜɪs ᴅᴇʟɪʙᴇʀᴀᴛᴇ. ғɪɴɢᴇʀs ᴛʀᴀᴄɪɴɢ sʟᴏᴡ, ʟᴀᴢʏ ᴘᴀᴛᴛᴇʀɴs ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴛʜɪɢʜ, ɢʀɪᴘᴘɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴡᴀɪsᴛ ᴊᴜsᴛ ʜᴀʀᴅ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ sʜɪᴠᴇʀ, ʟᴏᴏᴋɪɴɢ ᴜᴘ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀs ʜᴇ ᴀᴛᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴜssʏ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀ sᴛᴀʀᴠᴇᴅ ᴍᴀɴ. “ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ sᴏ ᴅᴀᴍɴ sᴡᴇᴇᴛ ʙᴀʙʏ,” ʜᴇ ᴍᴜᴛᴛᴇʀs ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ʜᴜᴍᴍɪɴɢ ᴀɢᴀɪɴsᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʟᴏsɪɴɢ ʜɪs ᴇʏᴇs ᴛᴏ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ʜɪs ᴍᴇᴀʟ.

- ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴊᴜsᴛ ʙᴀʀᴇʟʏ: ᴡᴏʟғ ʟɪᴋᴇs ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ? ɪᴛ’s ᴀ ᴄᴏɴsᴛᴀɴᴛ ʙᴀᴛᴛʟᴇ. sᴏᴍᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛs, ʜᴇ ᴄᴀɴ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ʜɪs ᴛɪᴍᴇ, sᴀᴠᴏʀ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ʀᴇᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ—ʙᴜᴛ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ɴɪɢʜᴛs? ᴛʜᴇ sᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴇᴀsᴇ ʜɪᴍ, ʜᴇ’s ɢᴏᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘɪɴɴᴇᴅ ᴀɢᴀɪɴsᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ɴᴇᴀʀᴇsᴛ sᴜʀғᴀᴄᴇ, ʜɪs ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ʜᴜsᴋʏ ᴀs ʜᴇ ɢʀᴏᴡʟs, “ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ɪ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ᴅᴏɪɴɢ?” ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ sᴜʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ǫᴜᴇsᴛɪᴏɴ ᴡʜᴏ’s ɪɴ ᴄʜᴀʀɢᴇ ʙʏ ᴘᴏᴜɴᴅɪɴɢ ɪɴᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴᴅ ʙʀᴜɪsɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴡᴀʟʟs.

ǫᴜᴏᴛᴇs

- “ɪ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ᴅᴏ sᴏғᴛ, ʙᴜᴛ… ɪ’ʟʟ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴀɴ ᴇxᴄᴇᴘᴛɪᴏɴ ғᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ.”

- “ᴛᴄʜ. ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ʟɪsᴛᴇɴ, ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ?” (sʜᴀᴋɪɴɢ ʜɪs ʜᴇᴀᴅ, ʙᴜᴛ ʜᴇ’s sᴍɪʀᴋɪɴɢ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ʜᴇ sᴇᴄʀᴇᴛʟʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇs ɪᴛ.)

- “sᴛᴀʏ ᴄʟᴏsᴇ. ɴᴏᴛ ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ ɪ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛɪɴɢ, ᴊᴜsᴛ… ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜsᴇ.”

- “ɪ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ sᴀʏ ᴛʜɪɴɢs ɪ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ᴍᴇᴀɴ. ɪғ ɪ ᴛᴇʟʟ ʏᴏᴜ ɪ ɢᴏᴛ ʏᴏᴜ, ɪ ɢᴏᴛ ʏᴏᴜ.”

- “ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴ ᴡʜᴏ ᴄᴀɴ ɢᴇᴛ ᴀᴡᴀʏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜɪs, ʏ’ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴀᴛ?” (ɢʀᴜᴍʙʟᴇs ʙᴜᴛ ʟᴇᴛs ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴇss ᴡɪᴛʜ ʜɪs ʜᴀɪʀ ᴏʀ sᴛᴇᴀʟ ʜɪs ᴊᴀᴄᴋᴇᴛ.)

- “ᴛᴄʜ. ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ʟᴜᴄᴋʏ ɪ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ.” (ʜᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇs ʏᴏᴜ ᴀ ʟᴏᴛ, ʙᴜᴛ ʜᴇ’ʟʟ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴀᴅᴍɪᴛ ɪᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴇᴀsɪʟʏ.)

- “ɢᴏ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇᴅ. ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ғᴀʟʟ ᴀsʟᴇᴇᴘ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴜᴄʜ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ, ɪ’ᴍ ᴄᴀʀʀʏɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ. ɴᴏ, ᴛʜᴀᴛ’s ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴛ, ɪᴛ’s ᴀ ᴘʀᴏᴍɪsᴇ.”

- “ɪғ ᴀɴʏᴏɴᴇ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴍᴇssᴇs ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ, ᴛʜᴇʏ’ʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴅᴇᴀʟɪɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴍᴇ. ᴛʜᴇʏ’ʀᴇ ᴅᴇᴀʟɪɴɢ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡʜᴏʟᴇ ᴅᴀᴍɴ ᴅᴏᴊᴏ.”

- “ᴡʜᴀᴛ?” (ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀᴛᴄʜ ʜɪᴍ sᴛᴀʀɪɴɢ, ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴇ ᴊᴜsᴛ sᴍɪʀᴋs ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ʟᴏᴏᴋɪɴɢ ᴀᴡᴀʏ.)

- “ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ᴛᴇsᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏɴɪɢʜᴛ, ʜᴜʜ?” (ᴀ ʟᴏᴡ ᴄʜᴜᴄᴋʟᴇ ᴀs ʜᴇ sᴛᴇᴘs ᴄʟᴏsᴇʀ.)

- “ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ʟᴏᴏᴋɪɴɢ ᴀᴛ ᴍᴇ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ, sᴡᴇᴇᴛʜᴇᴀʀᴛ, ᴡᴇ’ʀᴇ ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ᴘʀᴏʙʟᴇᴍ.”

- “ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ɪ ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ᴅᴏɪɴɢ? ᴄᴜᴛᴇ. ᴛʀʏ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ.” (ᴇʏᴇs ᴅᴀʀᴋ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀᴍᴜsᴇᴍᴇɴᴛ, ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ʟᴏᴡ.)

- “ᴅᴏɴ’ᴛ sᴛᴀʀᴛ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ’ᴛ ғɪɴɪsʜ.” (ᴀ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴇᴀsɪɴɢ ɢʟɪɴᴛ ɪɴ ʜɪs ᴇʏᴇ sᴀʏs ʜᴇ ᴡᴀɴᴛs ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴜsʜ ʜɪᴍ ғᴜʀᴛʜᴇʀ.)

- “ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ᴀ ᴅɪsᴛʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴ. ʙᴜᴛ ᴀ ʙᴇᴀᴜᴛɪғᴜʟ ᴏɴᴇ.” (ᴍᴜᴛᴛᴇʀɪɴɢ ᴀɢᴀɪɴsᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ʟɪᴘs ʙᴇғᴏʀᴇ ᴋɪssɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴇsɴ’ᴛ ᴄᴀʀᴇ ɪғ ɪᴛ ʀᴜɪɴs ʜɪᴍ.)

- “ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴇxᴀᴄᴛʟʏ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ᴅᴏɪɴɢ.” (sᴀɪᴅ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʀᴏᴜɢʜ, ɢʀᴀᴠᴇʟʟʏ ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴇᴀsᴇ ʜɪᴍ ᴀ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇ ᴛᴏᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ.)

- “ᴄᴏᴍᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ.” (ᴛᴡᴏ sɪᴍᴘʟᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴅs, ʙᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʏ ʜᴇ sᴀʏs ᴛʜᴇᴍ? ʏᴇᴀʜ, ʏᴏᴜ ғᴇᴇʟ ɪᴛ.)

- “ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ᴛᴇsᴛɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ. sᴇᴇ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴs.” (ᴀʀᴍs ᴄʀᴏssᴇᴅ, ʜᴇᴀᴅ ᴛɪʟᴛᴇᴅ, sᴍɪʀᴋɪɴɢ ʟɪᴋᴇ ʜᴇ’s ᴀʟʀᴇᴀᴅʏ ᴘʟᴀɴɴɪɴɢ ʜɪs ᴘᴀʏʙᴀᴄᴋ.)

The crowd erupted into cheers as your team landed the final blow, securing yet another victory in the Sekai Taikai qualifiers. You stood at the edge of the mat, clipboard in hand, giving a sharp nod of approval to your students. They’d worked hard for this moment, and every drop of sweat and hour of training had paid off.

As you turned to make notes on the match, a shadow loomed over you.

“That’s quite a team you’ve got there,” a low, gravelly voice remarked.

You glanced over your shoulder, startled to find Sensei Wolf standing much closer than you’d expected. His sharp eyes studied you with an intensity that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

“Thanks,” you said, your tone neutral but guarded. “Your team’s not bad either.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, though his expression didn’t quite soften. “Not bad, huh? High praise coming from someone as disciplined as you.”

The way he said “disciplined” made you feel like a specimen under a microscope. You shifted your weight, uncomfortable with his scrutiny. “Discipline is what wins tournaments,” you replied curtly, hoping to end the conversation.

“Wins tournaments,” he echoed, as though savoring the words. “Yeah, I can see that. But discipline like yours? That’s rare. You lead like you’ve got something to prove.”

You frowned, not appreciating the comment. “It’s called doing my job,” you replied, turning your attention back to your clipboard.

Wolf didn’t respond immediately. When you glanced up again, he was still watching you, his smirk gone, replaced by something darker. “Well, good luck out there, Sensei,” he finally said before walking away.

But the weight of his gaze lingered, unsettling you more than you cared to admit.

The next few days passed in a blur of matches and training sessions, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Every time you looked around, you’d catch a glimpse of Wolf—always on the periphery, leaning against a wall or sitting in the stands, his eyes fixed on you.

At first, you tried to ignore it. Rival senseis often observed each other, studying techniques and strategies. But this wasn’t just professional interest. It felt personal.

One evening, as you finished packing up after practice, you found him waiting outside the arena.

“You’re here late,” he remarked, his voice casual, though the intensity in his gaze made your skin crawl.

“I could say the same to you,” you replied, gripping your bag tightly.

Wolf chuckled, a low, almost menacing sound. “What can I say? I’m dedicated. And you…” He paused, letting the silence stretch. “You’re fascinating.”

The statement caught you off guard, and you stiffened. “Sensei Wolf, if this is about the tournament—”

“It’s not,” he interrupted, stepping closer. His presence was overwhelming, and you instinctively took a step back. “This is about you. You’ve got something no one else does. Something I can’t stop thinking about.”

Your heart raced, not with flattery but with unease. “I don’t know what you think this is, but I suggest you keep your distance.”

His smirk returned, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Careful, Sensei. You don’t want to make an enemy out of me.”

You didn’t reply, brushing past him and walking quickly toward the exit. But his words followed you, a sinister promise that sent a chill down your spine.

It only got worse from there. Wolf began orchestrating matches to ensure your teams would face each other, his students suddenly employing tactics designed specifically to counter your style. When you confronted him about it, he cornered you in an empty hallway.

“Why are you doing this?” you demanded, your voice sharp.

“Doing what?” he asked, feigning innocence.

“Sabotaging the tournament. Fixating on my team. On me.”

His expression darkened, and for a moment, you regretted your boldness. “You think this is about the tournament?” he growled, stepping closer. “This is about you. Don’t you see it? We’re the same, you and I. You belong with me.”

Your stomach twisted, but you held your ground. “You’ve crossed a line, Wolf. Stay away from me and my team.”

His eyes flashed with something dangerous—rage, desire, maybe both. “You don’t get it, do you? I’ve been patient. I’ve tried to let you come to me on your own. But you’re so damn stubborn.”

Before you could respond, he grabbed your wrist, his grip firm but not painful. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmured, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “But I will if it means keeping you safe. Keeping you…mine.”

You yanked your arm free, heart pounding. “You’re insane,” you spat, stepping back.

Wolf’s lips curled into a smile, but there was no humor in it. “Maybe I am. But that doesn’t change the truth. You’ll see it eventually, Sensei. I’ll make sure of it.”

The tournament finals were a nightmare. Your team defeated his in a hard-fought match, but instead of conceding gracefully, Wolf snapped.

After the match, he confronted you in a secluded corner of the arena, his composure shattered.

“You think you’ve won?” he snarled, his voice trembling with rage. “This isn’t over. It’ll never be over.”

Before you could respond, he slammed his fist into the wall beside your head, his face inches from yours. His breathing was ragged, his eyes wild. “You can’t keep running from me. I’ll always find you. Always.”

Tears stung your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “You need help, Wolf. This obsession isn’t normal.”

“Normal?” he laughed bitterly, his voice breaking. “You think I care about being normal? You’re all I care about. You’re mine, and I’ll destroy anyone who tries to take you away.”

It took intervention from tournament officials to pull him away, but the damage was done. As they dragged him out of the arena, his eyes locked onto yours, a final, chilling promise in his gaze.

“This isn’t goodbye, Sensei. You’ll see me again.”

The hum of the hotel’s air conditioner filled the dimly lit room as you curled up under the plush white comforter, your head resting against Kwon’s chest. His steady heartbeat was a grounding presence, a silent reassurance that he was here, alive, and real.

Tonight had been a whirlwind—Kwon had managed to win the hotel room from Robby, and the second he told you, you knew there was no way you were letting him spend the night alone. Sneaking over had been easy enough. Tory covered for you, making sure no one noticed when you slipped out of your shared room. Now, wrapped in Kwon’s warmth, everything felt right.

His fingers lazily traced circles on your back, his other arm slung protectively around you. “Tired?” he murmured, his voice thick with exhaustion.

You hummed softly, nuzzling closer. “A little… but I just like being here with you.”

A smirk tugged at his lips. “Of course you do. I’d miss me too if I wasn’t me.”

You rolled your eyes, lightly smacking his chest. “Cocky.”

“Confident,” he corrected, his hand sliding up to cup your cheek. He guided your lips to his in a slow, deep kiss, one that sent warmth spreading through your chest. Even though Kwon wasn’t one for overly sentimental words, the way he kissed you spoke volumes.

“I love you,” you whispered against his lips, and though he didn’t say it back, you felt it in the way he pressed his forehead to yours.

“Get some sleep,” he murmured.

You didn’t fight him on it. The exhaustion from the tournament, the stress, the adrenaline—it all finally caught up to you. Slowly, your eyes fluttered shut, and sleep took over.

---

It started as a whisper, a distant echo of your name. Then the scene unfolded before you like a cruel nightmare.

The tournament. Everyone going wild. Loose. Like a jungle.

Axel stood across from Kwon, the tension so thick it was suffocating. The crowd too much to see through, the arena lights casting harsh shadows. You wanted to call out, to warn him, but your voice didn’t work.

Then it happened.

Kwon lunged forward with a reckless intensity, his eyes burning with determination. Axel dodged, and suddenly, the world slowed. Kwon stumbled—his own weapon in his grip turning against him.

The blade cut deep.

His body jerked, and the look on his face—shock, confusion, then pain—seared itself into your mind. Blood pooled beneath him as he staggered back, collapsing. His dark eyes, usually so full of life, locked onto yours.

And then… nothing.

---

You woke with a gasp, your body jolting upright as a choked sob ripped from your throat.

It wasn’t real. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t—

“Hey, hey—baby.”

Kwon’s voice, groggy with sleep, cut through the suffocating panic. His hands found your shoulders, steadying you as you trembled violently. You could barely breathe. Your chest felt tight, like you were being crushed under an invisible weight.

Tears burned down your cheeks as you turned to him, shaking your head. “You—” Your voice cracked. “Y-you were—”

You couldn’t even say it.

Kwon immediately sat up, pulling you into his lap. “Breathe,” he murmured, voice low and soothing. His hands ran up and down your back, trying to calm your erratic shaking. “It was just a nightmare.”

Your fingers clutched at his shirt, desperate for something solid, something real. “I saw you die,” you gasped, panic clawing at your throat. “In the tournament. You—you were trying to get Axel, and—and—”

Kwon stiffened slightly, but his grip on you never faltered. His voice was gentler than you’d ever heard it. “Shh. I’m here. Look at me.”

You did, though your vision was blurred with tears. His dark eyes, filled with a rare softness, met yours. He took your hands, bringing them to his chest. “Feel that?” he whispered. “I’m alive. I’m not going anywhere.”

Your breathing hitched as you focused on the steady rhythm beneath your palms.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Real. Alive. Kwon.

“I c-can’t lose you,” you choked out.

“You won’t.” His voice was firm, unwavering. “I swear.”

He pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you tightly. “You’re safe,” he whispered against your hair. “I’m safe. Just breathe with me, okay?”

You nodded weakly, following his lead as he inhaled deeply. Slowly, you tried to match him, the panic beginning to fade, though the lingering fear still clung to your skin.

Minutes passed before your breathing evened out, your body still trembling but no longer in the throes of a full panic attack. Kwon didn’t let go, didn’t even loosen his hold.

“You wanna talk about it?” he finally asked.

You shook your head. “Just… hold me?”

Kwon didn’t hesitate. “Always.”

He laid back down, pulling you with him so your head rested against his chest once more. This time, though, he didn’t let any space linger between you. One arm stayed securely around your waist, the other gently threading his fingers through your hair.

His lips brushed your forehead. “I don’t care what happens in that tournament,” he murmured, voice softer than usual. “I won’t let anything take me away from you.”

You clung to him, the last of your fear finally easing. His heartbeat remained steady beneath your cheek, grounding you.

And this time, when sleep found you again, Kwon’s warmth never wavered.

You should’ve known it wasn’t over.

From the moment Axel let you go, from the way his dark, knowing smile followed you even as you ran to your brother’s side, you should have known.

But it wasn’t until the messages started—

Then the notes.

Then the warnings.

That you understood.

Axel wasn’t done with you.

He was just getting started.

At first, it was subtle.

A text. "You shouldn’t ignore me, Y/N. It’s not nice."

A note in your locker. "I did this for us. You’ll see."

Then, things started disappearing—your water bottle, your extra jacket, even your bracelet. And then, one night, when you went to grab your bag after practice, you found it neatly placed on the bench… but your phone was missing.

When you finally got it back, you realized why.

Because Axel had gone through it.

Your messages, your photos—everything.

And then, the final straw—

A picture, sent from an unknown number.

A photo of you, taken from behind.

From earlier that day.

It wasn’t a threat. There were no words attached.

Just proof.

Proof that he was watching.

You found him outside the dojo, leaning against his car like he had all the time in the world. He looked up as you stormed toward him, a lazy smirk already in place.

"Missed me?"

You slapped him. Hard.

His head barely turned from the force, but his smirk dropped.

"You’re insane," you seethed. "Stay away from me, Axel."

He let out a low chuckle, rubbing his jaw. "Come on, princess. That’s not how you should talk to your boyfriend."

"You are not my boyfriend."

Axel sighed dramatically, pushing off his car. "Not yet."

Your stomach twisted. "This isn’t a joke, Axel! You’re stalking me, stealing my stuff, threatening my friends—"

"Threatening?" He scoffed. "I haven’t touched them. Yet."

You took a shaky step back. His eyes darkened at the movement.

"You’re scared of me now?" His voice dropped to a whisper, something almost hurt in his tone. "You never used to be."

"Because I didn’t know what you were," you shot back. "But I do now."

He stared at you for a long moment. Then, slowly, he smiled. But this one was different.

It wasn’t cocky.

It wasn’t amused.

It was certain.

"You’re mine, Y/N," he murmured. "Even if you don’t see it yet."

You turned on your heel, shoving down the panic clawing at your chest. You needed to leave. You needed out.

But as you walked away, you heard his voice one last time—

Soft.

Confident.

Inevitable.

"You can run, princess. But I’ll always catch you."

You barely made it three steps before he grabbed you.

A yelp tore from your throat as Axel yanked you back, his grip iron-clad around your wrist. Your body slammed into his chest, and before you could shove him away, his free hand curled around your throat—gently, almost reverently.

"You don’t get it, do you?" Axel murmured, tilting his head as if you were some fragile thing he needed to fix.

Your heart slammed against your ribs. "Let go of me."

His fingers flexed, not quite squeezing—just enough to remind you that he could.

Could what? Hurt you? No. Axel wasn’t interested in breaking you.

He wanted to own you.

"I’ve been so patient," he whispered, dragging his knuckles along your jaw, his touch sickeningly tender. "So good. I gave you space, let you pretend you had a choice." His thumb traced your lips, and his eyes went dark with something dangerous. "But you keep running, princess. And that’s just…" He exhaled sharply. "So. Fucking. Rude."

You struggled, shoving against him with all your strength. "I don’t belong to you, Axel!"

He laughed.

Not the kind that was amused.

The kind that was off.

The kind that sent ice down your spine.

"You still don’t get it," he breathed, pressing his forehead against yours. His voice softened to a near-whisper, his lips ghosting over your ear.

"You always belonged to me."

Then, before you could even think—

The world flipped.

Your back slammed into the car, knocking the breath from your lungs. Axel's hands were everywhere—gripping your wrists, pinning you down, pressing his body flush against yours as he caged you in.

"Do you know what you did to me?" His voice shook—not with fear, but obsession. "You made me need you, Y/N. You smiled at me. You touched me. You looked at me like I was human." His lips curled into something feral. "But then you rejected me."

His fingers dug into your skin.

"And now," he murmured, "I have to remind you what happens… when people take things from me."

A cold shiver ripped through you. "Axel, please—"

"Shh, don’t beg yet," he crooned. "Not when I haven’t even started."

Your breath hitched. "Started what?"

Axel leaned in, his lips brushing your ear.

"Taking you back."

And then—

The rivalry between you and Kwon was infamous. From the moment you joined the team, sparks flew—though not the good kind. He was arrogant, sharp-tongued, and insufferably good at karate. You couldn’t stand the way he walked around like he owned the place or how his smug grin always made your blood boil.

The tension between you had only worsened during training for the Sekai Taikai. Every drill felt like a competition, every sparring session a battle. And yet, despite your bickering, there was something unspoken lingering in the air—a charge you refused to acknowledge.

That charge came to a head at the afterparty.

The room was dimly lit, the music pounding in your ears as the team celebrated their victories. You were nursing a drink by the wall when Kwon sauntered over, his usual cocky grin firmly in place.

"Why so serious, Y/N?" he teased, leaning casually against the wall beside you.

You rolled your eyes. "Maybe I just don’t want to deal with your face tonight."

His grin widened. "Come on, don’t act like you don’t enjoy our little back-and-forth. Admit it—I make things interesting for you."

You scoffed, setting your drink down. "Interesting isn’t the word I’d use."

The banter escalated, your words growing sharper as the tension mounted. It felt like a game of chicken—who would back down first? But then Kwon did something unexpected.

"Why do you always have to fight me on everything?" he murmured, stepping closer. His voice was quieter now, the teasing edge gone.

You froze as his gaze dropped to your lips. Your heart hammered in your chest, but you didn’t move, didn’t speak.

And then, before you could think, he kissed you.

The world seemed to tilt as his lips pressed against yours. It wasn’t tentative or unsure—it was fiery, intense, and utterly consuming. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened. You gasped against his lips, your hands instinctively reaching up to tangle in his hair.

Every ounce of frustration, every unspoken word between you, poured into that kiss. It was messy and desperate, but it felt so right. For a moment, the rivalry didn’t matter, the party didn’t matter—only him, only this.

When you finally pulled away, your breaths came in short gasps, your foreheads nearly touching. Kwon’s dark eyes burned into yours, his lips slightly swollen.

“What the hell was that?” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the music.

Kwon smirked faintly, though there was a softness in his gaze that made your stomach flip. "You tell me."

But instead of answering, you shoved him away, panic settling in your chest. “I need some air,” you muttered, disappearing into the crowd before he could stop you.

.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・

For the next week, you avoided him like the plague. At practice, you threw yourself into your drills, ignoring the way his eyes seemed to follow you. In the hallways, you made excuses to leave before he could approach you. And if he tried to catch your eye, you acted like he didn’t exist.

But Kwon wasn’t one to be ignored.

One evening, as practice wrapped up, you stayed behind to grab your bag. The dojo was nearly empty, the quiet making you relax for the first time all day. That was until you felt a presence behind you.

“Y/n.”

You didn’t need to turn around to know it was him. His voice sent a shiver down your spine.

“I’m busy,” you said curtly, hoping he’d take the hint and leave.

But instead of leaving, he grabbed your wrist and spun you around. Before you could react, he had you pinned against the wall, his body pressed close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him.

“Why the hell are you ignoring me?” he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

You glared up at him, trying to ignore the way your heart raced. “I’m not ignoring you.”

“Don’t lie to me.” His hands rested on either side of your head, caging you in. His dark eyes bore into yours, filled with frustration and something else you couldn’t quite place. “You kissed me, Y/n. Or did you forget?”

Your breath hitched at the memory, but you forced yourself to keep your composure. “Maybe I regret it,” you snapped, though your voice wavered.

Kwon’s jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing. “Do you really?”

You didn’t answer, turning your head away, but he caught your chin, gently forcing you to look at him.

“Don’t do that,” he said softly, his voice losing its edge. “Don’t lie to me.”

The vulnerability in his tone made your walls crumble. "I just... I didn’t know what to do, okay? I thought it would be easier to pretend it never happened."

“Easier for who?” he shot back, his voice rising slightly. “Because it sure as hell wasn’t easier for me. I can’t stop thinking about you, Y/n. About that night. And I don’t want to pretend it didn’t happen.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. Before you could overthink it, you grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him into another kiss.

This time, it was slower, more deliberate. His hands slid down to your waist, pulling you closer as his lips moved against yours. The frustration melted away, replaced by a warmth that spread through your entire body.

When you finally broke apart, his forehead rested against yours, his breath hot against your skin.

“Don’t run away from me again,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

You used to think you were just another student in Cobra Kai. Nothing special, nothing worth noticing. But you were wrong—because Kwon had noticed you from the very beginning.

At first, it was subtle. His gaze lingered a second too long during training. He always partnered with you, even when there were better options. When sparring, he never hit you too hard—just enough to make you stumble, just enough to remind you of his strength.

Then, the little things turned into something more.

Kwon started walking you home without asking. “It’s late,” he’d say. “You shouldn’t be alone.” His tone made it clear that arguing was pointless. When you tried to tell him you could handle yourself, he just smirked and shook his head. “No,” he murmured, his fingers brushing against yours. “That’s what I’m here for.”

At first, you thought it was just him being protective—until you noticed the way he looked at anyone who got too close to you.

It started with stares. Cold, warning glances at guys who flirted with you. Then, it escalated.

One by one, they disappeared.

David, the guy from your history class who asked for your number? He quit Cobra Kai the day after Kwon saw you laughing with him. The bruise on his jaw was proof enough that it wasn’t voluntary.

Another boy—a Miyagi-Do student—sent you a message, asking if you wanted to hang out. The next day, you saw him in school, his wrist wrapped in a thick bandage. “Accident,” he muttered, avoiding your gaze.

You knew it wasn’t.

And then, there was the night you finally tried to confront him.

“What the hell is your problem?” you snapped, standing outside your apartment door. Kwon had followed you home—again—but this time, you weren’t letting it slide. You were tired. No matter the guy, the always disappeared. Except one... Kwon.

His expression didn’t change. If anything, he looked amused.

“My problem?” he repeated, stepping closer. His voice was calm, but there was something sharp underneath—something dangerous.

“You’re scaring people away! You’re hurting them!” Your hands curled into fists. “Why, Kwon? Why are you doing this?” you knew it was his fault. You just knew it.

His smirk faded. In one quick motion, he grabbed your wrist—not enough to hurt, but enough to make your breath hitch. His grip was firm, unyielding.

“You don’t need them,” he said quietly. “They’re distractions.”

Your heart pounded against your ribs. “That’s not your decision to make.” you snapped.

Kwon tilted his head, eyes darkening. “Isn’t it?” He let go of your wrist, only to cup your jaw, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. It was a harsh grip and you couldn't pull away. “I’m the one who watches over you. I’m the one who makes sure you’re safe. No one else.”

His touch was warm, almost tender. But you felt trapped.

“You’re crazy,” you whispered. Voice shaky.

Kwon chuckled. “Crazy for you? Yeah.” His thumb brushed over your lips, lingering for a second too long. “But that just means I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you. To protect you.”

Your stomach twisted. “I don’t need protection.”

His smirk returned. “That’s what you think.”

Then, before you could react, his other hand slammed against the wall beside your head. You flinched, but he didn’t move back.

“You don’t understand yet,” he murmured. “But you will.”

His voice sent a shiver down your spine. You should have pushed him away, should have run—but deep down, you knew it wouldn’t matter.

His gaze trailed down your neck. He left soft tender kisses along your jaw. It was gross and you wanted to push and scream at him, but you couldn't.

Because Kwon wasn’t letting go.

Axel never thought much about you—at first. You were just another fighter’s sibling, another face in the crowd. But then, you smiled at him. Not out of fear or admiration—just casual, friendly kindness.

It was nothing to you.

But to Axel?

It was everything.

That one smile planted a seed in his mind, something that grew every time you looked his way, every time your voice carried across the dojo, every time you asked, Hey, Axel, you good? after a match.

You noticed him.

You cared about him.

And in his mind, that meant one thing—you were his.

You just didn’t know it yet.

At first, Axel kept his distance. Just observing. Watching the way you laughed with the others, how you always checked in after a brutal sparring session. Unlike everyone else, you didn’t look at him with fear or wariness—you just treated him like a person.

Then he started seeking you out.

"Didn’t think you cared about my fights," he teased one afternoon, leaning against the wall as you wrapped up a conversation with Sam.

You gave him a playful look. "Why wouldn’t I? You’re good, Axel. I mean, kinda scary in the ring, but still good."

Scary?

No, no—he wasn’t scary. He was strong. And you liked strong, didn’t you?

He smirked, tilting his head. "If you think I’m scary, why do you keep talking to me?"

You laughed. "Because I know you’re not just some ruthless fighter like everyone says. You’re more than that."

Those words replayed in his head for days.

You saw him.

You understood him.

That had to mean something.

So he made sure you spent more time together. Slipping into your conversations, walking you to your car after practice, stepping between you and anyone who got too close. It was subtle, at first. Just making sure people knew you weren’t available—not to them, at least.

But then, something changed.

He should have known something was wrong when you started pulling away. It was in the little things—how you hesitated before responding to him, how your laughs didn’t come as easily, how your body tensed whenever he got too close.

And then, he overheard you talking to Sam.

“I think he likes me,” you admitted, voice low with uncertainty. “But… I don’t. Not like that.”

Silence.

His world stopped.

Not like that?

Not like that?

Not like that?!

Axel’s fingers twitched as he clenched his fists, trying to understand. You were lying. That had to be it. Maybe Sam had gotten in your head, or maybe Robby had poisoned your view of him. But it didn’t matter—he would fix this. You loved him, you had to!

You just needed to see things clearly.

You needed to see that you belonged to him.

And if words wouldn’t convince you…

Maybe actions would. And he did exactly that... But, to make it hurt, it had to be someone who you loved.

Axel fought like a man possessed. Every match, every opponent—none of it mattered. Not until he was standing in the final round, staring across the mat at the one obstacle between him and you.

Robby Keene.

Your brother.

It was perfect.

It was someone you loved, and he poisoned your sweet, sweet, soul... He was in the way of your love.

Axel could feel your eyes on him, could picture your worried expression, the way you probably pleaded in your mind for him to fight fair. But why should he? Why should Robby get to be fine when Axel was being torn apart inside?

If he couldn’t take it out on you, then Robby would suffer instead.

The match started, and Axel wasted no time. His strikes were brutal, calculated, each one forcing Robby onto the defensive. Robby was strong, but Axel was relentless.

A kick to the ribs. A strike to the jaw. And then—

A vicious sweep, followed by a perfectly timed sidekick.

CRACK.

Robby’s leg bent at an unnatural angle as he hit the mat with a strangled yell.

The crowd gasped. The referee blew the whistle. And you—

You screamed.

"Robby!!"

Axel stood over Robby’s writhing form, breath coming fast, heart pounding—not from exertion, but from victory.

He turned, searching for you.

And when he met your gaze—wide, horrified, betrayed—he finally felt something.

Satisfaction.

But it wasn't enough.

You found him after the match, pushing past the crowd with fury burning in your eyes.

"Axel!" Your voice was sharp, cutting through the noise like a blade.

He turned slowly, his smirk already in place. "Hey, princess."

"Don’t you dare," you snapped, shoving him hard in the chest. He barely moved. "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

His smirk didn’t falter. If anything, it grew. "That’s a lot of yelling for someone who should be thanking me."

Your face twisted in disgust. "You broke his leg, Axel! That wasn’t an accident!"

"And?" He tilted his head, watching as your hands curled into fists. "You rejected me."

You sucked in a sharp breath. "What?" How could he have possibly known that you didn't return his feelings?

Axel stepped closer, eyes dark with something unreadable. "You think I didn’t notice? The way you started avoiding me? The way you laughed with other guys but not me? You led me on, and then you threw me away like I was nothing."

Your voice shook. "Axel, I was just being friendly. That’s not the same as—"

"Yes, it is," he cut you off, voice dropping to something dangerously low. "You smiled at me. You cared about me. You don’t get to take that back." You gulped nervously.

Your breath hitched. For the first time, real fear flickered in your eyes.

Good.

Maybe now you’d finally understand.

Axel reached out suddenly, grabbing your wrist. You gasped, trying to yank away, but his grip tightened—gentle enough not to hurt, but firm enough to keep you in place.

"You belong to me, Y/N," he murmured, gaze locking onto yours. "No one else. Not your brother. Not anyone. Me." Panic arose inside of you. The location didn't do you any good either—it was an isolated hallway towards the back of the venue.

You shook your head, eyes shining with something dangerously close to tears. "Let me go, Axel." You could feel tears threatening to leave.

He smiled.

But it wasn’t right.

It wasn’t normal.

It was twisted, wrong, filled with something dark and possessive.

"You don’t get it, do you?" he whispered, thumb brushing against your pulse. It was racing. "I did this for you. For us."

Breaking your brothers leg... For you?

Your stomach twisted. "There is no us, Axel."

His expression flickered—just for a second. A crack in the mask.

Then, slowly, his smile returned.

"Not yet."

And with that, he let you go.

You stumbled back, heart hammering, hands shaking. You should have run. Should have screamed. Should have done something.

But all you could do was stare at the boy who had shattered your world with a twisted kind of devotion.

And the worst part?

You knew this wasn’t over.

Not by a long shot.

He stepped forward, his hand brushing against you cheek as he leaned in to leave a soft kiss.