#dark!sieun

“I didn’t realize how late it got,” you said, already reaching for your bag. “I should head out.” You moved to step past him, but Suho blocked your path with his pool stick, the sharp crack of it hitting the table making you flinch. Your pulse jumped. His voice came next, smooth and eerily measured, like he enjoyed the sound of each word too much. “Do you know Sieun likes you?”

A sharp inhale. “Wait—what?” you asked, your voice barely above a murmur. Suho tilted his head, his expression unreadable in the half-light. “Wait. Are you really so stupid you can’t see how much he likes you?” Each word sank in slow and deep. Goosebumps chased down your arms. “Of course I didn’t know!” you snapped, anger flaring. “And why are you calling me stupid?”

Suho’s smile was tight. He always remembered your favorite drinks. He asked about your day even when you forgot his. He showed up when your heart was breaking over someone else.’ His voice didn’t crack. It didn’t even waver. Each sentence more like a judgment than a memory. Just facts delivered in a tone so smooth it scraped. Resentment didn’t need volume. It was there in the silences, in the way he never looked at you when he spoke. 

You swallowed hard. “That’s… what friends are supposed to do, Suho.” He took a step closer. The space between you felt charged, dangerous. “You should ask him out,” he said, soft but firm. Your stomach twisted. “I don’t like Sieun like that.” Suho’s gaze hardened. “If you know what’s good for you, you should.”

A chill ran down your spine. What the hell? You grabbed the pool stick, shoving it aside with more force than necessary. “I don’t like being threatened,” you hissed. “And for the sake of this friendship, I’m going to forget this ever happened.” You didn’t wait for a response. You walked out, the echo of your footsteps too loud in the empty hall. But as the door swung shut behind you, you couldn’t shake the feeling that Suho wasn’t done.

You didn’t realize you were standing frozen in the middle of the hallway until Sieun’s hand waved in front of your face. “You good?” he asked, his brow furrowing. You opened your mouth to answer but then you felt it. Arms sliding around your shoulders from behind, pulling you back against a solid chest. Your body locked up, breath catching. Suho. “Hey,” his voice was smooth, too close to your ear. “I haven’t seen you in a while.” You turned your head just enough to meet his gaze. His smile was easy, pleasant but his eyes were dark, unreadable. Like he was waiting for something. Like he knew you’d been avoiding him.

You forced a laugh, brittle. “Oh, sorry. Just been busy with school stuff.” Sieun opened his mouth to speak, but Suho cut in, his tone light, almost playful. “Huh. That’s weird.” He tilted his head, feigning thought. “I can’t remember us having any projects or exams lately.” A beat of silence. Your pulse thudded in your throat. “I—I meant, like, after school lessons and stuff,” you stammered. “Oh.” Suho’s fingers flexed against your shoulders, his thumbs pressing in just a little too hard as he massaged the tension there. “That makes sense.”

Sieun’s eyes flicked between you, his expression unreadable. He didn’t say anything, but the way he watched you like he was noticing something off but couldn’t place it. It made your skin prickle. You let out a nervous laugh. “Okay, let’s head to class.” You shrugged Suho’s hands off, stepping forward a little too quickly, putting space between you. Behind you, you heard him sigh long, exaggerated, like he was amused. Like this was all some game. The walk to class was silent. But the moment you sat down, you felt it again the weight of eyes on you. Heavy. Unblinking.

You turned. Suho was already staring. Your breath hitched. His expression was blank, but his gaze sharp, calculating locked onto yours like a predator watching prey. A slow, knowing smirk curled at the corner of his mouth. You whipped your head back around, heart hammering. You hadn’t realized until now just how scary he could be.

Suho’s eyes didn’t stay on you for the whole class and against all logic calmed your nerves. Maybe you’d overreacted. Maybe he was just being a good friend to Sieun, looking out for him. The thought settled in your chest like a weight lifting. See? Nothing to worry about. “Okay, that’s all for today. See you all Monday,” Mrs. Jung said, already halfway out the door.

You slumped in your seat, exhaling. All you wanted was to go home, bury yourself under blankets, and forget the last few days ever happened. But fate had other plans. A tap on your shoulder made you jump. Sieun stood there, grinning sheepishly. “Oh, you’re stuck here too?” You smiled back, relief flickering until movement behind him caught your eye.

Suho. He strode in, broom in one hand, mop in the other, his usual easygoing smirk in place. “Looks like we’re all stuck here,” he said, tossing the broom to you with a lazy flick of his wrist. You caught it on instinct, your fingers tightening around the handle. Suho turned to Sieun. “Let’s move the tables out of the way.” No lingering stares. No loaded comments. Just… normal. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. Maybe things really are okay.

Cleaning duty turned into something almost fun. Sieun started it dunking a chalk-stained eraser into the water bucket and flicking droplets at you. You gasped, feigning outrage, before retaliating with a swipe of your dust rag. Suho laughed, as he shoved a desk aside with exaggerated effort.

“You two are terrible at this.” “Says the guy who’s just pushing chairs around,” you shot back, grinning. He clutched his chest in mock offense. “I’m creating space. It’s essential labor.” Sieun snorted, tossing a wadded-up paper ball at him. Suho dodged, but not fast enough, it bounced off his shoulder. For a moment, it was easy. Just three friends goofing off, the tension from before dissolving like chalk in water. You let yourself relax.

The laughter died down as you finished up. Sieun wiped the last chalkboard clean while you stacked chairs, humming under your breath. You saw movement at the edge of your vision. Suho was watching you again. Your breath hitched. He didn’t look away. Just tilted his head, slow, considering, like he was memorizing the way your fingers gripped the chair legs.

A beat too long passed before Sieun’s voice cut through the silence. “Done!” He clapped his hands together, oblivious. “Let’s get out of here.” Suho blinked and just like that, the moment shattered. You brushed it off, pretending it was just your imagination. He slung an arm around Sieun’s shoulders, grinning. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

Sieun's question should have been innocent. Just another after-school hangout, nothing unusual. "Hey, you guys wanna stop by my place before you head home? My dad's not home." Suho didn't hesitate. "Oh, let's go!" His grin stretched too wide, his teeth just a little too bright under the fluorescent street lights. Eager. Like he'd been waiting for the invitation.

Like he already knew the answer. You swallowed hard, forcing a smile. Just an hour, you told yourself. Then you'll leave. "Nice!" Suho yelled, loud enough that a few strangers on the street turned to stare. Sieun laughed, shaking his head, and you let out a breathless chuckle.

The walk to Sieun’s apartment was too short. The elevator ride up, too quiet. The only sound was the mechanical hum of the lift. You watched the numbers climb on the display *3... 4... 5* your reflection warped in the metal doors. Behind you, Suho leaned against the railing, smiling at you. Sieun unlocked the door, stepping aside to let you both in. The apartment was dim, the curtains half-drawn, slicing the afternoon light into narrow, dusty stripes. You moved toward the couch, your shoes sinking into the floorboard, already calculating how quickly you could leave without seeming rude.

"Ready?" Sieun's voice, low, from behind you. Suho hummed in response. A soft, satisfied sound. Your stomach dropped. Ready for what? You started to turn then a hand clamped over your mouth. Roughly, the palm was warm, the fingers splayed just so the thumb was pressing into the hinge of your jaw, fingers curling behind your ear, holding you in place like you were something fragile. Something to be handled carefully. The cloth came next, pressed against your nose and lips. Damp. Sweet-smelling, like artificial cherries, like children’s cough syrup.

Your lungs burned as you sucked in a startled breath—No!?. You thrashed, elbows jabbing backward, nails scraping at the arm locked around your ribs. But whoever held you—Suho? Sieun?—was stronger than they looked. Their grip tightened, crushing you against their chest like a lover’s embrace. You could feel their heartbeat through your back steady, unhurried. "Shhh," a voice murmured in your ear. Lips brushed the shell of it, the word curling into you like smoke. "Just sleep."

Your vision tunneled. The room tilted. The last thing you saw was the ceiling fan above the couch, its blades turning lazily, casting wobbling shadows over the walls. Somewhere, distantly, you heard laughter. Like this was all a game. Then the darkness swallowed you whole.

Your ears were ringing when your eyes first fluttered open. A dull, static hum filled your skull, your thoughts slow and syrupy. Where am I? The room came into focus in pieces, the white wall, the too-bright overhead light and the scent of lemon disinfectant. And then your eyes found Suho. He sat across from you in a wooden chair, elbows resting on his knees, chin propped in his hands. Watching. A smile curled at the edges of his mouth when he saw your eyes focus. "Suho?" Your voice cracked. "What's going on?" 

“You should’ve done what I told you.” His voice was calm. Like he was talking about something mundane. But beneath that softness was something sharp, waiting to cut. "Do what?" Your mind was still fogged, your tongue thick in your mouth. He didn’t answer right away. Just tilted his head, studying you the way someone might examine a butterfly pinned under glass. "I wasn’t honest with you last time we were alone," he said finally. That caught your attention. "Sieun isn’t the only one who likes you." A pause. "I do too." Your stomach lurched.

"We were trying to figure out our dilemma," he continued, tapping his temple in mock thought. "And then we went—oh!" His eyes lit up, like he'd just remembered something delightful. "We could share you." A cold sweat prickled down your spine. "But you being so dumb couldn’t notice the way we changed acting towards you." He leaned forward, elbows pressing into his knees, close enough now that you could see the flecks of gold in his dark eyes. Close enough that you could smell the mint gum on his breath.

"Suho, whatever you're thinking—let’s not," you begged, your voice thin. "Please." A hum from beside you. Your head snapped to the side and there was Sieun, sitting so close his thigh pressed against yours. You hadn’t even noticed him. His hand settled on your leg, fingers rubbing slow, soothing circles into your jeans. Trying to ease your nerves. It wasn’t working. "Fuck this," you hissed, lurching to your feet. "I’m leaving."

Suho moved faster than you expected. One second, he was in the chair the next, he was blocking your path, his body crowding yours. "Nah, babe," he murmured. "Sit back down."

"No, Suho, I’m leaving—"

"You don’t like to listen, do you?"

His hands tangled in your hair yanking you. You screamed, the pain sharp and sudden, your scalp burning as he shoved you backward. You crashed onto the couch, landing half in Sieun’s lap. His arms wrapped around you instantly, pulling you tight against his chest. "Shhh, it’s okay," Sieun whispered into your hair. "It’s okay." He glared at Suho over your head. "I thought we were going to play nice. So she could be comfortable." Suho rolled his shoulders, rubbing the back of his neck like he was the one who’d been wronged. "Well, she doesn’t like to listen."

"I’m sorry," Suho said, ducking his head, suddenly sheepish. The whiplash of it made your head spin. Sieun squeezed you. "See? He said he’s sorry. You should forgive him." "Forgive him?!" You shoved yourself upright, scrambling off Sieun’s lap. "Whatever this shit is, I don’t want any part of it. Let me go home. My mom—" "It’s 6 PM," Sieun interrupted, nodding toward the wall clock. "Your mom won’t be home for another three hours." Your blood turned to ice. "How do you know that?"

"Well, babe," Sieun sighed, his voice dripping with false patience. "We've been friends for over a year. You really think I don't listen when you nag about your mom always coming home late?" The air left your lungs. His smile had vanished. In its place was disappointment, edged with something darker.

"And babe? I don’t like it when you lie." Your mouth opened. Nothing came out. "We just wanted to show you how much we like you," he continued, his voice softening into something almost tender. "How perfect we’d be together." His hand rose, fingers brushing your jaw too gentle for the way your pulse was rabbiting in your throat. Then his grip tightened, tilting your face toward his.

You shoved at his chest. "Don’t—"His other hand snapped to the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair, yanking. Your lips met his in a hard, bruising kiss. You stayed frozen, your body rigid until you felt hands on your hips, dragging you backward.

Suho. He hauled you into his lap, his breath hot against your ear. "See?" he murmured, his arms locking around your waist like a vise. "This isn’t so bad." Sieun pulled back just far enough to look at you. His thumb swiped over your bottom lip, wiping away the sting of the kiss. "You’ll get used to it."

Your hand cracked against Sieun's wrist, slapping him away with a violence that surprised even you. The room froze. For one suspended second, there was only the sound of your ragged breathing then Sieun's expression darkened, something primal uncoiling behind his eyes. "I was being so sweet with you," he murmured, voice dripping with false calm. "So gentle. Knowing how fragile you are."

His fingers flexed. "But it looks like you like it rough, huh, babe?" The slap came fast a starburst of pain across your cheek, snapping your head to the side. Your lips stung, throbbing where your teeth had cut into them. Behind you, Suho let out a low, delighted laugh, his breath hot against your ear.

"Oooh, you got him mad," he teased, fingers already working at the buttons of your shirt, slow and deliberate, like he was unwrapping something precious. "Now you’re really in for it." You squeezed your eyes shut, but you could still feel Sieun watching you could picture the way his gaze tracked Suho’s hands as they parted the fabric, exposing you inch by inch.

A gift being unveiled just for him. The last button gave way. Suho peeled the shirt from your shoulders with a reverence that made your skin crawl, his lips brushing the curve of your bare shoulder. "See?" he whispered. "Isn’t this better?" You turned your face away, refusing to look at Sieun. Refusing to give him the satisfaction. But he caught your chin anyway, forcing your gaze back to his. His thumb swiped over your bruised lip, smearing the blood. "You’ll look at me." he said softly.

Suho's voice slithered through the charged air, saccharine and sharp as broken glass. "Come on, baby. Stand up for me." You didn't want to be slapped again. Your body moved before your mind could protest, muscles obeying out of sheer animal instinct. You stood on trembling legs, turning deliberately away from them both. The front door swam in your vision ten feet of scratched wood and peeling paint that might as well have been a mile away.

A warm hand slid around your waist from behind, pulling you flush against Suho's chest. His lips found the delicate shell of your ear. "Don't even think about it," he murmured, fingers digging into your hipbone hard enough to bruise. "I'd catch you before you made it two steps." His other hand trailed up your spine. "And then I'd fuck you against that door so hard the neighbors would hear."

Behind you, Sieun let out a soft, approving hum. Your reflection stared back at you from the darkened television screen wide-eyed, disheveled, bracketed between their bodies. A fly caught in honey. Suho's teeth grazed your shoulder. "Be good," he whispered. "You know how much better it feels when you're good." Sieun reached around to unzip your skirt.

The skirt pooled at your ankles like a fallen curtain. Suho crouched behind you, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties with deliberate slowness. The elastic stretched taut, then slackened as he inched the fabric downward not ripping, not tearing, but peeling, like he wanted to savor every millimeter of exposed skin. "Look at you," Sieun murmured walking to the front of you, his voice thick with something that made your stomach twist. His hands framed your face, forcing your gaze to stay locked on his. "So pretty like this."

The air was too cold against your bare thighs. Suho’s breath was too hot where it ghosted over the small of your back. "Shhh," he soothed, as if he could feel the tremors wracking your body. His thumbs pressed into the dimples above your hips. "We’ll take care of you." Sieun’s eyes met yours, "You’re ours now," he said, like it was the simplest truth in the world.

Suho had retreated to the couch, his weight making the old leather creak as he settled back to watch. Sieun’s hands guided you down with a gentleness that didn’t match the way your knees hit the hardwood. The sharp jolt of pain wringing a whimper from your throat. The floorboards were cold under your knees.

"Oh, baby," Suho cooed from the couch, his voice syrupy with mock concern. "That sounded like it hurt." You kept your eyes fixed on the floor on the scuff marks in the wood, the dust gathered in the grooves. Anything but them. Then came the click of a belt buckle. The hiss of leather sliding free. Sieun tossed it aside, the sound of it hitting the wall too loud in the quiet room. His fingers found your face again, tilting your chin up with terrifying familiarity.

Your vision filled with him his flushed skin, the way his fist moved over himself, slow and slick. "Come on, baby," he murmured, thumb brushing your lower lip. "Let’s put that mouth to work." "Sieun, I—I don’t know what to—" "Wait!" Suho’s sudden bark made you flinch. He sat forward, eyes alight with something giddy. "You’re a virgin?" A moment. Then your tiny, soft voice "Yes." Suho’s grin split his face. "Woah. You really were made for us." He turned to Sieun, laughing. "Cause this idiot’s a virgin too. Couldn’t stop talking about how he wanted his first time to be with you." His gaze slid back to you, dark. "And now it’s about to happen."

Sieun’s breath hitched with embarrassed or excited, you couldn’t tell. "Wait, I should record this—" Suho lunged for his phone. "No—" "No what?" His voice went sharp. "We need to save this moment forever." He propped the phone against the TV, the red recording light blinking like a predator’s eye. "Back to me," Sieun ordered, fingers tightening in your hair.

Your gaze flicked up just in time to see the hunger in his eyes as he guided himself to your mouth. The first touch of skin to your lips made him whimper. "Oh, god—" Behind you, Suho’s laugh was low, thrilled. "Yeah," he breathed. "This is perfect."

Sieun's inexperience showed in the way his hips stuttered. No rhythm, no control, just the frantic, animal need to take. His fingers twisted tighter in your hair, forcing your head back at an angle that made your jaw ache. "Oh God, I love watching you like this—" His voice was breathless, wrecked. "On your knees for me." Behind you, the couch creaked under Suho's shifting weight. The slick, rhythmic sound of skin on skin filled the spaces between Sieun's choked-off moans. "God… look at you." Suho's words came out in a whimper, high and reedy. "I could watch this all night." Sieun’s thrusts slowed, turned uneven.

"Getting close already?" Suho teased, but his own voice was thick with want. Sieun didn’t answer. Just groaned, his grip on your hair turning vicious. "That feels so fucking good… I can’t hold it—" And then he was coming with a choked-off grunt, hips jerking forward, forcing himself deeper as he spilled into your mouth. "God—yes, I’m coming… fuck—" His fingers tightened, yanking your head back just enough to meet your gaze. "Don’t spill a single drop."

The command slithered down your spine. Across the room, Suho let out a shaky sigh. "Perfect," he whispered. "You’re doing so perfect." The praise felt worse than the violence.

He slipped out of my mouth, you gasped for air only for Sieun to pat your head like a well-trained pet before turning you toward Suho. Suho’s gaze was molten, his jaw tight, his entire body coiled like a predator ready to strike. He looked at you like he wanted to ruin you. "I know I look good like this," he said, voice rough, "but come lay on the couch. I need to work you open." A smirk. "And I doubt Sieun knows how to eat a pussy properly. You’re in for a treat."

Sieun fingers brushed your hip. "Can’t fuck you without getting you wet first. Poor thing would break apart and we don’t want that, right, love?" Like it was the simplest thing in the world. You let yourself be guided onto the couch, thighs pressed together in some last, futile attempt at modesty. Suho tsked, gripping your knee and yanking your legs apart with a single, brutal motion. "None of that."

His gaze raked over you in a hungry and ravenous before his fingers traced your most sensitive skin, feather-light, just enough to make you shiver. "Oh, God," you whimpered. "Barely started, and you’re already falling apart?" He chuckled, dark and low, before pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. Then another, lower. His breath, hot and damp, right there. You looked down. He looked up. Held your gaze as he smirked then licked a slow, deliberate stripe up your clit.

Your breath caught and not just from the contact, but from the way Suho looked up at you while he did it. Like he was studying you. Like he was waiting to see the exact moment you’d break. The moment you’d stop pretending you didn’t want this. Sieun sat beside him now, lounging where Suho had been at the start. One leg crossed over the other, fingers brushing his lower lip, his gaze heavy on your naked skin. Watching. You tried to close your legs. Suho growled, low and dark, his hands tightening around your thighs. “Don’t,” he warned, dragging his mouth back against you, unhurried, deliberate. Tongue slow and cruel. “Don’t even think about it. Keep them open.”

You whimpered. “Wait—please, I don’t—”

Sieun’s voice cut through like a thread pulled taut. “Aw, are you overwhelmed already? ”

“She’s soaking,” Suho muttered, lips brushing slick skin. “Look at you. Trembling like a whore but pretending to be shy.” You turned your face into the couch cushion, heat flooding through you. Suho’s fingers flexed, lifting your hips like you weighed nothing. “Open.” A pause. “Wider.” His voice dropped, gravel-rough. “You don’t want to make me say it again.” You hesitated, lips parted in a breath you didn’t realize you was holding. Then, slowly you let your thighs fall open, exposing yourself with a tremble that said more than any word ever could.  “Good girl,” Suho said, mock-sweet, a vicious edge behind the praise. “That’s better. I’ll teach you manners next. You’ll be thanking me before I’m done.”

His mouth returned. His pace rougher now, merciless. Tongue circling, pressing, flattening and your body betrayed you. You moaned, broken and high, fingers clawing the cushion like it could ground you. “No,” you gasped. “I don’t want—this isn’t—” But your voice cracked at the end. Suho didn’t stop. He licked deeper, harder, drawing sounds from you you’d never made before.

And still Sieun said nothing. He sat back in the chair, legs spread, hand wrapped around himself, slow and deliberate. He didn’t rush because he didn’t need to. Watching you fall apart under Suho’s mouth was enough. The way your thighs trembled, the way your moans filled the room. His gaze never left your face, even as his fist pumped lazily, thumb grazing the tip every time you whimpered like you weren’t soaked for it. “That’s it,” he murmured, voice low and cruelly soft. “Let him ruin you while you pretend you’re not loving every second.” His smile twisted. “Don’t worry, my love. You’ll scream for me next.” 

You tried to hold onto something, the edge of the couch, the fabric of your own discarded shirt anything to anchor yourself against the rising tide of sensation. You were a virgin, but you recognized the telltale signs: the tightening in your belly, the way your thighs trembled, the dizzying rush of blood between your legs. Suho noticed. Of course he did. "Oh, baby," he murmured against your skin, his lips brushing your inner thigh. "Are you close?" His fingers worked faster, rubbing tight circles over your clit before sliding two fingers inside you, pumping in a relentless rhythm. "Should I slow down? Or speed up?"

Your body arched off the couch, elbows digging into the cushions as you tried to twist away but then Sieun was there, his chest pressing flush against your back, his arms locking around you like steel bands. “Shhh,” he murmured, his breath damp against your ear. One hand slid up your ribcage, but there was no gentleness in his touch just heat. A sharp tug, a vicious sound of tearing fabric, and the front clasp of your bra snapped open under his grip. The cups fell apart like they never stood a chance, fabric splitting as if your body had no right to hide from him. 

His other hand didn't hesitate. Thumb and forefinger closed around your nipple, pinching just shy of pain before rolling it slowly until the ache radiated through your whole chest. “You’re gonna come, and you’re gonna look me in the eyes when you do." Suho coaxed, his voice honey-sweet. Sieun's teeth grazed your earlobe. "Good girl… give it to us. All of it.”  You were trapped between them. Suho’s mouth on you now, his tongue replacing his fingers, licking into you with obscene precision, while Sieun’s hands roamed over your bare chest, his breath hot against your neck 

The pleasure was too much. The wrongness was too much. Your body didn’t care it arched into their touches, betraying you, chasing the climax even as your mind screamed no, no, no—"That’s it," Suho coaxed, his voice muffled against your skin. "Come for us." And you did. Your vision whited out, your back bowing off the couch as the orgasm ripped through you, violent and unwanted. Sieun held you through it, his arms tightening around you, his lips pressed to your temple in something almost like tenderness.

"Good girl," he murmured, lips brushing your temple like a prayer. And then Suho was moving, crawling up your body with slow, predatory ease, his smile sharp, his eyes dark with something hungry. You could feel the heat of him drawing closer, his body climbing over yours like a wave about to break. One hand dragged along your inner thigh, fingers grazing every trembling nerve as though he were mapping your undoing, memorizing the way you shook, the way you breathed, the way you tried and failed to retreat into yourself.

Then he was above you, weight settling over your hips, caging you between the couch cushions and the scent of sweat, leather, and something  that made your skin crawl even as your body arched up to meet it. His smile was different now. There was nothing playful left in it. “Now it’s our turn,” he said, and the words coiled around your ribs like wire. You flinched, almost imperceptibly. But Sieun felt it. His hand slid to your throat a suggestion of the their power over you. “No more pretending,” he murmured against your ear, his tone low, coaxing. Dangerous in its calm. “If that was a protest, sweetheart, you’ve got a funny way of showing it.” You wanted to scream.

 But your voice had gone soft somewhere between Suho’s tongue and Sieun’s brutal mouth fucking and that breaking point you didn’t remember crossing. Suho’s fingers brushed your hipbone, almost reverent now. And somehow. They weren’t in a rush. They never were. Because they already had what they wanted. You. Now they were just taking their time enjoying the aftertaste. 

Suho didn’t rush. He watched you, eyes dark and unreadable, as he settled fully between your thighs. The weight of him was suffocating, his presence impossibly heavy as he nudged your trembling knees apart, exposing the last of you. “You’re still shaking,” he murmured, voice a dark melody against your skin. “Good.” Sieun’s arms tightened around you, his grip unrelenting as he leaned in, whispering at your temple. “You don’t get to hide anymore.”

You tried to twist away one final, a very useless protest but it only made them hold tighter. Sieun's fingers dug into your jaw, turning your face toward him. ““Ah, ah—stay still. I like watching you realize you can’t escape.” he said softly. “Look at you…trying so hard to stay in control. It's adorable. Pathetic, but adorable.” 

You felt it, the pressure of him, deliberate and claiming, as he pushed against your entrance. Your body tensed, a whimper rising in your throat, caught somewhere between fear and some cruel, traitorous need. There was no pretending now. No denying what was happening. He pushed in, slow and relentless, stretching you inch by unforgiving inch. “Fuck,” Suho groaned, head falling forward against your chest as he bottomed out. “So fucking tight…” You cried out, the sound raw and shattering, but Sieun caught it, swallowed it with his mouth against your cheek. “Breathe,” he whispered, voice like silk. “Let him in.”

The broken little noises slipping from your throat. You gasped, fingers scrabbling against the cushions as your body clenched around him, involuntary. It hurt. God, it hurt. A sharp, invasive ache that pulsed with each slow grind of his hips. You’d never done this before your body unpracticed, untouched, painfully tight around the unforgiving stretch of him.

“Shhh…” Suho’s voice was low, soothing in a way that didn’t match the brutal reality of your position. “This stretch... this pain... this is how you know it’s real.” You whimpered, back arching. It felt like too much like you were being split open from the inside. And he knew. You could see it in his eyes, the flicker of something close to reverence as he watched your face contort.

“No more pretending,” Suho growled as he drove into you harder. “Look at your face. You didn’t know you could feel this much, did you?”  Your breath fractured into pieces, each inhale more ragged than the last as Suho began to move in earnest. His thrusts hit deeper now, each one grinding into your tender core with merciless precision, dragging another whimper from your throat even as you tried to bite them back. “There,” Suho hissed, voice thick with pleasure. “Right there. That’s the sound I want.”

You shook your head instinctively, not even knowing what you were denying anymore—his voice, the way your body reacted, the brutal, burning fullness of him inside you. It didn’t matter. He wasn’t asking. He was showing you what it meant to be taken. Sieun’s mouth ghosted over your temple, lips soft in contrast to his grip on your body. “You feel that?” he murmured, hand sliding possessively over your throat, thumb pressing just under your jaw. “That wet little slap? That’s how much you love this, even if you won’t say it.” 

Suho pulled back just enough to thrust again, slower this time but deeper and you felt your muscles spasm around him, raw and unwilling, but yielding. Adjusting. Betraying you in real time. “That’s it,” Suho muttered against your neck, teeth grazing the skin there. “You’re opening up so pretty for me now.” Your hands fisted into the cushions. You weren’t sure if you were trying to push away or hold on.

“It hurts,” you gasped.  Suho’s breath was hot against your ear. ““It’s not pain, baby. It’s your body learning who it belongs to.”  Sieun’s hand tightened on your jaw again, tilting your face toward him. “And you’re paying it so beautifully,” he whispered, eyes gleaming with something dark. “Every cry, every shiver you’re giving us everything.”  Sieun’s free hand drifted down, fingers circling your clit with cruel precision. "“Fuck, look at you—so pretty with him buried deep inside," he whispered. "You're trembling so sweetly." 

Your hips jerked, a broken sound tearing from your throat as pleasure coiled tight beneath his touch, hot and insistent, wrongwrongwrong—Suho groaned, his rhythm stuttering. "Clinging to me already? You’re squeezing like you want to break me." His hips slammed forward one last time, burying himself to the hilt as he came inside you with a low, satisfied growl. Sieun’s fingers worked faster, relentless, until your vision whited out, just from the overwhelm, your body shuddering through a climax that felt like surrender. "There it is," Sieun murmured, watching the tears spill down your cheeks. "That’s our girl."

Suho didn’t pull out. Just stayed seated deep, his breath hot on your shoulder. "Now you know," he said softly. "Now you really know." Suho gave your cheek a soft, almost patronizing pat before slipping out of you. The sudden emptiness made your body jolt, the heat of him still dripping down your thighs, slick and unmistakably his. You barely had a moment to breathe before his hands gripped your waist again and lifted you like you weighed nothing at all.

“Okay, baby,” he murmured, voice low and satisfied. “Time for Sieun to get his cherry popped.” You barely registered the words before you were lowered into another pair of waiting arms. Sieun looked up at you, wide-eyed, pupils blown, lips parted like he couldn’t decide if this was really happening. His hands were hesitant on your hips. Your body was already raw, oversensitive, and trembling but Suho was still there behind you, grounding you, guiding you. He pressed closer, one palm sliding over your lower back, the other curling around your side possessively.

Sieun lined himself up to your entrance, breath ragged. His length nudged at your slick entrance, the hesitation in his eyes making your pulse stutter. “Come on,” Suho whispered against your ear, voice like velvet. “Let him in.” And then he was guiding you down, slow, steady and cruel. Sieun gasped, head falling back against the couch as you sank onto him inch by inch. He was overwhelmed every breath he took sounded like it might shatter him. His nails dug lightly into your hips, unsure whether to pull you down or hold you still.

You whimpered, the stretch making you tremble again. It wasn’t just physical. It was the way Sieun looked at you like you were something angelic. Sieun’s voice broke on a breathless moan. “I—I can’t…” “You can,” Suho said behind you, voice low and firm. “She’ll take all of you. Won’t you, baby?”

You didn’t answer but your body responded, trembling around him, clenching involuntarily as Sieun slowly slid deeper. Every inch dragged a gasp from his lips, and a broken, whispered plea from yours. The stretch burned, not just from being filled again, but from way he was how careful and clumsy all at once.

Sieun was breathing like he’d run miles, his chest rising and falling against yours as his arms tightened, unsure whether to anchor himself or anchor you. His eyes were locked on your face, like he needed permission, reassurance, something to ground him. But you couldn’t give it. You weren’t grounded. You were floating in the space between pain and pleasure and the lines between your body and theirs blurring by the second.

Suho’s voice seeped into you, slow and thick like warm honey laced with poison. “He’s shaking, sweetheart,” he murmured, brushing your hair off your damp forehead. “You’re too much for him already.” Sieun whimpered beneath you, the sound quiet and overwhelmed. “She’s… so warm… so tight… I can’t—” “You’re already inside her, Sieun.” Suho cut in. “Too late to hesitate.”

You could feel the tremor in Sieun’s thighs, the twitch in his fingers as he tried not to move, not to finish before it had even begun. He throbbed deep inside you, pulsing with restraint he clearly didn’t have the experience to manage. And still, Suho didn’t let up. “Move,” he ordered, his hand pressing firmly on your lower back again, forcing you to rock barely an inch, but enough.

You cried out, hips jerking reflexively as the motion sent sparks across every nerve. Sieun moaned helplessly, biting his lip so hard it went white. “Good,” Suho praised, “Just like that. Make him feel what it’s like to be inside something that’s already been broken open for him.” That did something to Sieun his hips bucked upward instinctively, and you gasped, fingers clawing at his shoulders, trying to stay upright as the sensation knocked the air from your lungs. He was too close. You could feel it.

Something had shifted. Gone was the wide-eyed hesitation. In its place, raw instinct. The kind that took over when thought vanished and only feeling remained. He sat up suddenly, arms locking tight around your back. Before you could process it, he was rising, lifting you with him in one swift, shaky movement. You let out a startled cry as your legs wrapped reflexively around his waist, his hands slipping beneath your thighs to hold you in place.

The air hit your skin as he stood fully upright, your back pressed against the nearby shelf cool wood against flushed flesh. His breath came in ragged bursts, face buried in your neck as he began to move. He was rough now, uncontrolled. His hips snapping up into you, his grip bruising but desperate. The way he held you, thrust into you, didn’t feel like inexperience anymore. It felt like hunger. Like he’d been holding back and now couldn’t stop.

Each movement drove you up the shelf an inch before gravity pulled you back down, onto him again. Over and over. The sound of skin on skin echoed through the room wet, sharp, unrelenting. Suho stood nearby, watching. A proud, dangerous gleam in his eye. “That’s it,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Take what you want, Sieun. She can give it. All of it.” And Sieun did.

He buried his face against your shoulder, muffling a broken moan as his rhythm faltered hips stuttering, thrusts going sloppy. “Fuck… you feel so good,” he gasped, voice cracking. “I can’t—I’m gonna—” You could feel the build in his body. Every muscle straining.

Every breath breaking apart against your skin as he pushed deeper, chasing the edge like he’d drown without it. “Taking me so deep,” he whimpered, helpless now. “It’s too much—too fucking good—” with one final, shaking thrust. He gasped your name like a prayer and came. You felt it. The sudden heat spilling inside you, thick and hot pulsing as he emptied himself, moaning brokenly into your neck.

You heard clapping. The sound echoed through the room like it didn’t belong there. It sliced through the haze in your head like a cold blade. You turned your face toward it. Suho was standing now, walking toward you both with that grin that infuriating, knowing grin stretched across his face like he’d already won. “See?” he said, clapping again, louder this time. “See how good we are together?” He gestured between himself and Sieun, then toward you. “You can never get rid of us. We’re in you now.”

Sieun was still beside you, fingers ghosting up your spine in a slow, possessive stroke. You didn’t know when he’d moved. You didn’t even feel your body shift but somehow, his hand was at the nape of your neck now, anchoring you in place like you were something dangerous. Suho stepped in front of you, grin softening into something colder. His gaze slid up your body like it belonged there… you didn’t move.

“You can’t get rid of us,” he whispered, voice slick with triumph. “Now you belong to us and no matter how hard you try, you’ll never get rid of us.” Sieun’s voice rasped hot against your ear, the words more like a threat than a promise.

“You get that, don’t you?” before you could respond, Suho was in front of you too close. His thumb dragged across your bottom lip, slowly. Like he had all the time in the world to remind you who you belonged to. “Smile for me,” he said. And when you didn’t.

His hand snapped up, gripping your jaw hard enough to make your breath catch. His fingers dug in, forcing your face toward his, his voice dropping to a low, razor-edged growl. “I said—smile.” This time, you did. Lips trembling, teeth clenched. And when you did, he smiled too. The kind of smile that told you this wasn’t over. The kind of smile that said next time?

You’d better not hesitate. 

And then he went right back to kicking Suho in the head. Each impact made your breath stutter. The wet thud of his shoe against skull. Again. And again. And again. Your legs refused to move. Everything inside you went still, watching Suho’s head jerk sideways under the weight of Beom-seok’s foot. You hesitated. And you hated yourself for it. Some pathetic instinct told you to back off and to look away. Then, suddenly, he stopped.

Beom-seok’s chest was heaving. Suho wasn’t moving. Your eyes widened. “Woo-young, why isn’t he getting up?” you asked, voice shaking, Panic clawed its way up your spine, inch by inch. Woo-young didn’t respond. He just stared at Suho, face blank, and slowly turned off the live stream on his phone. Then he backed away and ran. No words. No guilt. Just… gone.

What the fuck?

That’s when your body finally moved. You scrambled into the ring, shoulder-checking Beom-seok as you passed. He barely staggered, it was like colliding with concrete. You didn’t care. You dropped to your knees next to Suho, your hands hovering over his face, unsure what to even check for. “Suho… wake up…” Your fingers trembled as they touched his shoulder, his neck. No blood at the throat. No breath? Was he breathing?

“Beom-seok, we need to call someone now!”

But he wasn’t listening. He was standing over you, staring at Suho like he didn’t understand what he’d done. You looked at Suho’s face. Purple swelling. Split lip. Blood pooling at his temple. Still not moving.

You ran.

Your legs carried you out of the ring, out of the building, through back alleys until your lungs burned. You ducked behind a dumpster in some alley a block away, clutching your knees, sweat cold on your skin. Oh my god… did Beom-seok kill him?

You fumbled with your phone, thumb hovering over 119. But then the other thoughts crept in: You were there. You didn't stop it. You're on camera. That stream… that whole thing...

Your thumb froze. You locked your phone. And you ran again.

Two days passed.

You tried not to check the news. You told yourself maybe Suho would be fine. Maybe it looked worse than it was. But the rumors came in fast and brutal: Coma. Brain swelling. Multiple fractures. And then came the whispers. Si-eun. You didn’t know who he was at first. But then you started to hear: “That was Suho’s best friend.” He hadn’t cried. Hadn’t yelled.

He’d broken bones instead. He found Woo-young in his school’s gym, swinging weights like weapons. Woo-young got a concussion and a shattered collarbone. Then came Beom-seok. Nobody knew the details, but Si-eun couldn’t be pulled off of him. He got expelled.

You didn’t do anything. You tried to step in. You really did. But what was a voice compared to fists? Compared to Woo-young’s pack of jackals? You remembered shouting, stepping toward them and then flinching back when they turned. Just one step back. Just enough.

But it didn’t matter. Because he wasn’t done.

Now, every hallway in school felt like a trap. Every shadow is too deep. Every corner is too sharp. You started going to class early, leaving early, eating lunch in empty stairwells. You watched every door like it might swing open with him behind it.

You started checking over your shoulder constantly. And today… it felt worse.

Hwayang High School always had a way of feeling oppressive when the sun had already dipped low behind the buildings outside, casting long shadows down the hallway as you packed your bag. You didn’t see anyone else around, only your footsteps echoed faintly as you made your way toward the stairs.

And then, a sound. A faint scuff of a shoe behind you. You spun around, heart pounding in your chest. Nothing. No one. You let out a dry, shaky laugh, telling yourself to calm down, that it was nothing, just your nerves playing tricks on you. Still, your skin prickled, and you quickened your pace without thinking. 

You passed an open classroom door. When a hand grabbed your wrist. You didn’t even have time to scream before you were yanked inside and the door slammed behind you with a sharp click. You stumbled, heart exploding in your chest, and turned, He was there.

Si-eun.

He stood in front of the closed door, calm. Still. His school uniform was half-unbuttoned, his knuckles still discolored from old fights. His face was unreadable. Calculating. That sharp-eyed, empty look that sent chills down your back. He said nothing. Just stared.

His presence was heavier than shouting.

He walked toward you slowly, measured, like he was approaching something that might break or need to be broken. You took a step back. He didn’t stop. “I know what you did,” he said quietly. “Or rather… what you didn’t do.” His eyes narrowed, like he was cataloguing every twitch in your expression. “You were there.”

Your mouth opened. “Si-eun, I didn’t”

“You watched.” The words were like frost on glass. “You ran.” You backed into a desk. No escape. He leaned in, face close. That empty calm still in his voice. “So tell me.” His eyes locked on yours, flat and unreadable.

“What do you think I should do to you?”

You instinctively took one back. The silence was worse than shouting. “S-Sieun… wait, I—” His glare cut through your words. You raised your hands instinctively, trying to find your voice under the weight of his stare. “I tried. I didn’t… I didn’t just watch. I swear I said something. I—”

He stepped closer again, and this time your back hit the edge of a desk. Nowhere else to go. He didn’t shout. That would’ve been easier. His voice came out low, slow, like a knife dragged across glass. “You stood there.” You shook your head. “No—I—” “You watched. You didn’t stop it.”

There was no winning. Not with him. Not now. Not like this. You could see it in his eyes: the barely contained storm behind them, the blood still simmering from every blow he delivered to the others. But this wasn’t about fists. Not for you. Not for what you didn’t do.

This was a reckoning.

And you were the last one left. A flash of motion made you flinch, his hand slamming down beside you, on the desk. Not hitting you. Not yet. But close. You could feel the tremor through the wood. His eyes never left yours.

You didn’t know what was coming next but you knew he wasn’t here just to talk. And you weren’t sure if he was after your guilt…or your blood.

The air in the room turned heavy, so dense with tension it was suffocating. Your heart pounded against your ribcage. But Sieun didn’t move in with rage. He moved with something worse. He tilted his head slightly, studying you like you were some specimen behind glass, something pitiful. “You’re scared now?”

His voice was quiet, almost gentle. Making you shiver not from cold though but from the heat beneath it. From the threat it carried without ever raising its tone. His hand moved next. His fingers were bruised, knotted from violence, rough from too many fights. He reached for you, slow and deliberate, brushing your hair back from your forehead.

You flinched.

He didn’t stop.

His touch lingered, fingers sliding through your hair with a control that felt almost tender, though nothing about it was kind. Every movement was precise, calculated like he was handling something fragile, or something that already belonged to him

“Was it like this… when you saw them do it to Suho? Did your breath catch the same way or did you freeze just like this?”

His tone was poison dipped in honey. Mocking. Sharp. But intimate. His fingers slid lower, knuckles grazing down the side of your neck, tracing the edge of your collar. He wasn’t even looking at his hand, his eyes stayed locked on yours, searching for the tremble, the crack, the guilt surfacing just beneath your skin. “You stood there. You let it happen and now you want me to believe you tried?”

He gave a small laugh under his breath. Not amused. Dangerous. His other hand lifted now, catching the edge of your school uniform blazer and tugging it forward slightly, straightening it but the way he did it felt more like a claim than a correction. “You always kept your head down, didn’t you?” “So obedient. So quiet.”

He leaned in, breath brushing your cheek. You could smell the metallic tang of adrenaline still clinging to him, the faint heat of sweat. His lips were inches from your ear now. “You didn't do anything… and that makes you worse than them.”

You swallowed hard. Words failed you again. Every instinct screamed at you to move but your legs wouldn’t listen. Your hands stayed where they were, stiff and useless at your sides. You weren’t pinned. Not physically.

But you might as well have been. His fingers dragged slowly down your uniform buttons pausing briefly over one just to watch your reaction. Not undressing. Just… playing. Toying.

He smirked and leaned his forehead against yours, his voice dropping into something lower. Intimate. “You want me to hurt you?” Your breath caught. “I’ll give you the same treatment your friends got.”

He smiled without warmth, dragging a thumb just below your lip, slow and deliberate. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. Somewhere down the hall, a door creaked but the world outside didn’t matter.

The cold edge of the desk bit into your back as Sieun’s fingers slid lower not soft, not kind, but firm, possessive. He grabbed your thigh suddenly, fingers digging into the muscle through the fabric, and lifted you, setting you down on the desk like you weighed nothing.

You gasped. He didn’t care. He stepped between your legs without asking, without hesitation and you could feel it: the heat coming off him, the tension simmering just below his skin. Every inch of him screamed violence barely held in check.

His hand moved again not back to your hair this time, but to your wrist. He lifted it in front of your face, slowly turning it, inspecting it like it wasn’t even part of you. Just something in his way. Or something he was deciding what to do with. “This little hand,” he muttered, thumb grazing the inside of your wrist. “You ever think of raising it to help Suho? Pushing someone off him? Swinging?”

You didn’t answer. His grip tightened. “You didn’t. You just stood there. Pathetic.” The way he said it was so calm. Detached. But behind his voice was a deeper current like he was daring you to speak. To lie. To whimper. To do anything that would justify what came next.

You opened your mouth, but he was faster. His other hand clamped over your thigh again, harder this time, thumb pressing just above your knee grounding you, trapping you. He leaned in, his lips just barely brushing your cheek, voice a low growl against your skin. “So what should I do with you?”

Silence.

“Hm?” “You think this guilt you're carrying makes you innocent? that if you suffer enough you'll earn some kind of forgiveness?” He laughed quiet and cruel. “I see it in your face. It’s eating you alive, isn’t it?” His grip on your wrist jerked upward slightly, twisting, just a hair past comfortable. A single inch from pain. “Tell me, should I break this? would that make things even?”

You flinched.

He leaned in again, closer this time, his breath hot against your neck. His fingers danced along your wrist like he was playing with a toy he might snap in half at any moment. “Or maybe I will stop holding back and show you what pain really feels like.” “So that whoever sees you next knows you're already broken.” “Already used.”

He pulled back, just enough to meet your eyes. His gaze was unreadable......somewhere between cold calculation and fire. “Or…” His tone dipped darker, softer. “Maybe I keep you. A reminder. A plaything. Until I get bored.” He tilted his head, studying you. “Wouldn’t that be fair?”

There was no air in the room anymore. Just his voice, and the weight of your silence. “You stood there and watched. That’s the truth, no matter how you try to twist it.”

He released your wrist suddenly, letting your arm drop uselessly to your lap. You didn’t even realize how tight your muscles had gone until then. The feeling was just starting to come back when his hand moved again this time dragging fingers up the inside of your uniform’s blazer.

A taunt. A test. “Now it’s my turn to choose.” And Sieun never chose mercy.

The air inside the classroom was stifling now, thick with tension and the scent of fear twisted into something darker. You sat on the desk, legs parted by Sieun’s placement, your skirt hiked slightly from his earlier grip. Your chest rose and fell unevenly, heat crawling over your skin in waves. But it was your silence that seemed to amuse him the most.

His hand, rough and slow, slid along the inside of your thigh again. “Look at you,” he murmured. “Pretending like you’re innocent.”

His palm pushed higher, fingers finding the soft warmth beneath your skirt, dragging knuckles across the thin fabric of your underwear. You bit down hard on your lip, breath catching. “Don’t start whimpering now,” he said mockingly. “You’re not innocent.”

His touch circled, slow and cruel through the fabric, deliberately pressing into the spot that made your thighs tense, your hips subtly shift. You tried not to react but he noticed everything.

His free hand reached up, grabbed your chin hard, and tilted your face toward him. “Eyes on me.” Your lashes fluttered, chest tight, and when your gaze met his, it burned. His pupils were dilated, a darkness swimming in the brown not just arousal, but control. Total, deliberate dominance. “You feel that?” he asked. “Soaked already. Messy. Pathetic.”

His voice was razor-sharp, and he never blinked. Not as his fingers hooked the edge of your underwear and dragged them down, slowly, letting the elastic scrape against your skin. You made a soft sound, he smiled. Not warm. Not pleased. Just cruel. “Of course you’re like this. Guilty little things always are.”

And then he slid two fingers between your legs.

No hesitation. No warning.

You gasped, hips jolting forward, but his grip on your thigh held you still. His fingers worked inside you, deliberate, slow at first just to feel the tight pull of your body around him. The wetness coating his knuckles. The tremble is already starting in your legs. “That’s it,” he whispered, almost like mock affection. “Already clenching like you’ve been waiting for this. Waiting for me.”

He pumped his fingers slowly, each thrust firmer than the last, and your legs instinctively tried to close around his wrist but he just shoved your knees apart wider. “Stay open.” His thumb pressed hard against your clit while his fingers curled inside you and you moaned, sharp and breathy, trying to bite it back.

He watched you like he was watching something break. “Look down,” he ordered. You hesitated. His grip on your chin tightened. “Now.” Your eyes dropped.

The sight made your stomach flip, his fingers disappearing inside you, wetness glistening, dripping down his hand, onto the desk. “You see what you’re doing?” he asked, voice low, disdainful. “You’re leaking all over my fingers?”

“This is guilt, huh?” His thumb circled again and your hips jerked.

He leaned in, lips brushing your ear as he whispered: “You're going to come like this, aren't you?” “Dripping, shaking, staring at the mess you're making and knowing I own it.” You were close. Too close. Heat was coiling low in your stomach, every muscle tight, trembling on the edge. And he knew.

He could feel it. “Go ahead,” he murmured. “Fall apart. But don’t you dare look away from me.” And your eyes stayed focused on him.

He had you. And you were already breaking.

Your body jerked forward, breath shattering in your throat as the orgasm tore through you. It wasn’t just release, it was a collapse, a breakdown from the inside out. You tried to close your legs, to twist away, to push his hand out from between them, but  Sieun caught your wrist before you even made contact, his grip fast, brutal, and shoved your arm behind your back, pinning it with effortless control. “Too much?” he murmured, breathing hot at your temple. “That’s not my problem.”

His fingers didn’t stop. Didn’t even slow. Still wet, still curling inside you with wicked precision, rubbing your oversensitive clit like he was punishing it. And it was too much, your body twitching, hips bucking. You came again. Harder this time. A violent tremor shook through your legs as your head fell forward against his chest, gasping, whimpering his name.

Only then did he slow. The wet sound of his fingers slipping out of you echoed louder than it should have,too raw. He didn’t speak at first, just held them up to the light like he was inspecting the aftermath of something amazing. 

They glistened. So did his eyes, a quiet gleam that wasn’t lust anymore. It was hunger.

He brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked them clean, slow and methodical, tongue curling between them like he was savoring more than just the taste. He watched you as he did it not with desire, but with something colder. Almost amused.

“hmm,” he said finally, voice like frost, “is this what regret tastes like?”

There was a pause. He let it hang in the air like a noose. Then his mouth twitched into the faintest smile. Not a real one, just mockery.

“Sweet.”

Your lips parted, but no sound came. You couldn't move. Couldn’t breathe right. You just stared up at him, your body still trembling, your mind still trying to catch up to what had just been taken from you. Not just physically deeper than that. He had just used you. Unmade you.

And he saw it. The confusion. The humiliation. The way your shame warred with something worse. It was still there buried beneath everything else, but burning all the same.

And he didn’t have to say a word about it. You felt it in the way his gaze pinned you down, in the silence stretching between you, suffocating and absolute.

He unbuckled his belt with slow, deliberate fingers, the metallic clink echoing between you like a countdown. His gaze never left yours, sharp and heavy, drinking in the sight of you wrecked. The zipper came down next, teeth parting with a sound that made your pulse spike. He tugged the waistband past his hips, letting his pants fall in a heavy slump around his shoes.

His arousal was already evident, hard and aching, reaching toward you with need that had been building for what felt like forever. Veins traced along the length of him, his desire unmistakable. His hand moved gently, fingers gliding from base to tip with slow care, spreading the warmth already gathered at the tip, like every motion was meant to savor the moment, not rush it. 

"Look at you," he murmured, voice low and filthy. "Messy little thing, still twitching, still open."

He took a step closer, his fist sliding up his length again, deliberately slow. "You want more?" he asked, tilting his head like he already knew the answer.

You snapped your head side to side, refusing without needing to speak, frantic and breathless. “Please,” you whispered, voice cracked. “Please—please, Sieun, I tried! I swear I did, I told them to stop but they weren’t listening, they didn’t care—I didn’t know what to do! I panicked! I didn’t want this to happen, I never wanted Suho to get hurt—I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry!”

Your voice cracked as the words spilled out, raw and trembling. You could barely breathe between them. Shame choked the back of your throat. He just stood there, watching you unravel.

And then he stepped closer, slowly.

Expression unreadable.

“Don’t worry, babe,” he said, voice low, quiet, almost casual. “I’ll forgive you…” His fingers slid up under your chin, forcing your gaze back to his. “…after this.”

And then he slammed into you.

Your back arched hard, a ragged scream caught in your throat as his hips crashed into yours, bottoming out in one brutal thrust. No teasing. No slow buildup. Just brutal.

He grabbed your waist, yanking you closer to the edge of the desk, the sound of skin on skin echoing in the empty classroom as he fucked into you rough, fast, relentless. “You think you deserve better? After what you did?” he gritted, watching your face twist with every thrust. “No—this is exactly what you deserve. To be used. Thrown away. Like trash”

You choked back a sob, tears streaming down your face.

Then his hand shot up, gripping your uniform shirt at the collar. You had just enough time to gasp before he ripped it open, buttons scattering across the floor, fabric splitting with a sharp tear.

Your bra strained against your chest, breasts bouncing with every thrust now fully exposed to his cold, merciless gaze. “Look at you,” he growled. “You’re ruined.” He leaned in, lips at your ear again. “And I’m not done.”

Sieun’s rhythm turned brutal, each thrust driving into you with a force that made the desk jolt and groan beneath your body, the wood shrieking in protest with every slam. Your thighs shook violently, muscles twitching under the strain, and you bit down hard on your lip, fighting to keep the sounds in.

Every thrust forced a choked gasp from your throat, breath catching as you tried and failed to stay silent. But the desk kept rattling, the heat kept building, and no matter how hard you tried to hold it back, the moans still slipped out, raw and desperate. Someone could hear. But you couldn’t stop it.

He grunted low in his throat, sweat dripping from his jaw as he stared down at your wrecked body open shirt, bouncing tits, the complete mess of slick between your legs that coated his length every time he pulled back. “You’re taking it so fucking well,” he muttered, voice rough and breathless. "This is all you're good for, isn't it?"

He slammed into you once more, deep enough to steal your breath, then abruptly pulled out. You barely had time to react before his hand tangled in your hair and dragged you down off the desk. 

“On your knees.”

You obeyed instantly, body heavy and shaking as your knees hit the floor, the cold tiles biting into your skin. Your ruined shirt hung open, your chest rising and falling as you looked up at him dazed, mouth parted, still gasping.

He stood over you, stroking himself fast now, rough, his eyes locked on your chest. “Look at the mess you are,” he growled. “And you're still begging for more.”

You didn’t even deny it. The humiliation, the degradation, the way he looked at you like something broken and his.

Then he tensed.

A guttural sound ripped from his throat, and he stepped forward the final inch and came, thick ropes of it spilling across your chest, streaking your skin, your bra, your breasts already heaving from the roughness of before.

"That's better," he murmured, his smirk deepening as he looked down at you, breath warm and slow. "Now you really look wrecked."

His grip on your hair loosened gradually, fingers gliding down your cheek with a mock tenderness that only made it feel more cruel. He caught your chin between his fingers, tilting your face up to keep your gaze locked on his.

"Leave it just like that," he said, voice low and deliberate. "I want everyone to see what you’ve been made into."

Your chest was a mess streaked with him, your shirt torn wide open, your skin still flushed and trembling from everything he'd done to you. Knees on the cold floor, arms slack at your sides, breath catching unevenly in your throat, you looked up at him with dazed, glassy eyes.

And he just… stared down at you. No tenderness. No warmth. Just cold satisfaction. He zipped up his pants, slow and casual, as if he’d just finished a workout, nothing more. His gaze swept over your ruined state: the sweat, the slick between your thighs, the trembling in your shoulders, the cum sliding down your skin. “At least you’re good for something,” he said.

That sentence landed harder than anything else.

He didn’t wait for a reply. Didn’t even look back. Just turned on his heel and walked out of the classroom like nothing had happened like you weren’t still on the floor, used, exposed, utterly undone.

The door shut with a soft click. And then silence. You stayed there. Knees burning. Skin flushed and slick. Muscles trembling, throat tight. Wrecked. But it wasn’t just the sting of shame crawling up your spine, it wasn't just the ache between your legs or the hollow in your chest.

Something deeper twisted, darker a need that pulsed even harder now that he was gone.

You hated it.

The chill of late evening hit me immediately, a soft, biting wind slipping under my jacket like cold fingers. I shoved my hands into my pockets and started down the empty sidewalk, the sky already smeared with hues of deep blue and bruised purple. The streetlights buzzed to life one by one, flickering like old memories.

Instinctively, I glanced at my phone. 7:03 p.m.

"Shit," I muttered under my breath. I hadn't realized how late it had gotten. Goddamn Mrs.Song, That woman could talk numbers into the grave. One second she was explaining quadratic equations, and the next she was diving into some off-curriculum tangent about non-Euclidean geometry like we were prepping for a university exam instead of just trying to make it through high school. None of us had the nerve to stop her.

The school's windows behind me still glowed faintly with sterile fluorescent light, but the building itself looked dead, skeletal. Most of the students had left long ago. My footsteps echoed as I passed the bike racks, the usual hum of teenage chaos replaced with unsettling silence. I was alone.

I tightened my grip on my backpack strap, my fingers curling instinctively, my pace picking up. Lately, walking home alone in the dark had started to mess with me. More than it used to. There was this creeping feeling that hung to my back like a wet shadow. Like I wasn’t walking alone. Like someone was watching me.

I couldn’t explain it. Just this constant, crawling sense that a pair of eyes were fixed on me from somewhere out of sight. Behind a tree. Across the street. Just beyond the edge of a streetlight glow. And every time I turned around there was no one there.

I turned into the narrow alley, a shortcut I’d taken a hundred times before, the path between two aging apartment buildings where the streetlights didn’t quite reach. 

Halfway through, I heard it. Footsteps. Behind me. Steady. I froze mid-step, my breath catching in my throat. The sound stopped too. I didn’t turn around. Didn’t dare. Swallowing hard, I forced myself to keep walking, each step heavier than the last. But the footsteps returned, matching mine perfectly like an echo with intent. I quickened my pace. So did they.

Panic clawed its way up my spine, my fingers tightening around my backpack straps as I moved faster, nearly breaking into a jog. The air felt colder now, thicker as if something unseen had crept into the alley with me, pacing just behind. Then a hand yanked at my backpack.

I stumbled backward with a gasp, heart leaping into my throat, and spun around as a scream ripped from me. “God! It’s me! Yeji!” The familiar voice hit me like a slap of light in the dark. My breath caught as my eyes adjusted. There she was, wide-eyed and breathless, hands raised, startled by my reaction. I didn’t know whether to scream again or punch her.

“ bitch, I nearly peed myself! What the hell are you doing?” I yelled, still trying to catch my breath. Yeji just laughed. “You should’ve seen your face!” She held something out. “You forgot this.” It was my math textbook. “You’ll need it to finish the crazy bitch homework sorry, I mean Mrs. Song’s homework,” she added with a dramatic yawn.

I rolled my eyes, but took the book. “Thanks… I guess.” “All right, I’m off. See you tomorrow!” she said, already turning away and heading in the opposite direction. And just like that, she disappeared around the corner, leaving me alone again. “I’ve really got to stop freaking myself out,” I muttered with a shaky laugh, trying to brush off the nerves as I started walking again.

I was nearly at the end of the alley when I suddenly heard someone yell sharp, distant, and completely unintelligible. I stopped and turned around. No one was there. Thinking it was just Yeji messing with me again, I shouted, “Yeji, get your ass home already!”

No response.

I rolled my eyes and turned back to keep walking and walked straight into something. Or rather… someone. A solid chest. I stumbled back, heart lurching up into my throat as I looked up. “Sieun…?” I said, startled.

He didn’t respond, just stood there, silent, his eyes unreadable. “I didn’t know you lived around here,” I added, my voice a little too casual, trying to ease the sudden weight in the air. It was the first time I’d ever spoken to him.

I’d seen him before, always alone, quiet, keeping his head down. The kind of guy who disappeared into the background. There were rumors, of course. About his old school. About someone who’d died. Some said he killed a student. No one ever proved it.

And now he was just… standing here. Close. Still silent. I realized I was still staring at him and quickly looked away, checking my phone. 7:25 p.m. “Shit,” I muttered. “I really have to go.” I stepped to the side, intending to walk around him but before I could, his hand shot out and grabbed my upper arm, stopping me.

“Huh?” I said, startled, looking up at him. “Can I help you with something?” I asked, confused. “Yes,” he said quietly. “What’s wrong?” I asked. Sieun gently took your hand, his touch soft but firm. His thumb began to slowly caress your knuckles in a way that might’ve been tender in another context, but here, in the dim, narrow alley with no one else around, it felt wrong. Too intimate.

I tried to pull my hand back. He didn’t let go. His brown eyes locked onto yours, glassy and intense, shimmering with something deep and off. It wasn’t just affection. It was…I couldn’t even describe what it was, it just made my skin crawl.

“I…” he murmured, his voice low and breathy, his voice curling through the silence like smoke. “From the moment I first saw you, I knew you were someone special.” I tugged on my arm again, harder this time. His grip only tightened. “Your beauty,” he whispered, leaning closer, “your spirit, your essence... it calls to me in a way I can’t even describe.”

I tried to speak, tried to tell him to stop, to let go but he lifted my hand to his lips before I could, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to my fingertips. His breath was warm against my skin, but it chilled me to the core. “I want to love you,” he continued, voice trembling slightly now, but not with fear…with hunger. “Cherish you. Keep you safe from all the darkness in this world.” I shook my head, stepping back, but he followed, holding your hand like a lifeline. His other hand hovered as if ready to grab my shoulder next.

“You are my everything, my love,” he said, his voice almost breaking with the weight of emotion. “I would do anything, absolutely anything to make you happy. To keep you by my side.” A pause. “Forever.” His eyes bored into mine..full of longing, desperation, and something darker. Possessiveness. Obsession. There was no softness in it anymore. Only need.

“Tell me you feel it too,” he whispered. “Tell me I’m not alone in this. This… desire. To have you and to never let you go.” I yanked my arm again. His grip didn’t loosen. “Tell me,” he said, voice lower now, more of a demand than a plea “or I’ll show you how far I’m willing to go to prove it.”

“Sieun…” I said quietly, gently pulling my hand from his. The way his brow furrowed made my chest tighten, but I had to say it. “I’m sorry but I don’t feel the same way.” I hesitated, then added softly, “I need to go.” ” 

Sieun's expression darkened, his grip on my hand tightening to the point of pain as a flicker of anger sparked in his brown eyes. "What do you mean, you don't feel the same way?" he demanded, his voice rising in volume and intensity. 

He slammed his free hand against the wall beside my head, the force of it making me jump. "I've seen the way you look at me when you think I don't notice. Don't try to deny it, You want me just as much as I want you."

Sieun leaned in closer, his face mere inches from mine. His eyes were wild, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts. "You can't reject me. You can't walk away from this, from me. I won't let you." His voice dropped to a chilling whisper, "I'll do whatever it takes to make you understand. Whatever it takes to keep you with me, where you belong."

“Sieun!” I shouted, panic spiking as I twisted in his grip. “Let me go!” He didn’t. His fingers dug into my arm, holding me tight no matter how hard I fought. I kicked, shoved, clawed at his chest, but it only made him grip harder. Then his hand snapped up, grabbing my jaw.

“No!” I tried to turn away, but it was too late. His mouth crashed onto mine forcefully, uninvited, wrong. I froze, my heart slamming in my chest as his lips moved against mine, stealing my first kiss. His other hand clawed at my waist, then my hair, dragging me closer, trapping me in a moment I never asked for.

“Please,” I gasped, tears burning in my throat. “Please stop…” “I can’t,” he whispered. “I have to show you how much I love you…” But the way he said it..it wasn’t to me. It was like he was trying to convince himself.

My body went still as I felt his hand at the hem of my skirt. “Sieun!” My voice broke as panic surged up my spine. He didn’t stop. I gripped his wrist, eyes wide, silently begging him. Please. Don’t. But he didn’t look at me. Didn’t hear me. Tears blurred my vision as I felt his fingers brush over my underwear, dragging slowly across the thin fabric, pressing where he had no right to be.

“No please!” I choked, but the words came out soft, drowned beneath his breath and the sound of my own fear. His mouth was still chasing mine, desperate, sloppy, ignoring the way I kept turning my face away. And all I could do was try to leave my body behind.

Think of anything else. Somewhere else. Anywhere that wasn’t here. I snapped back to reality when something felt… off. A strange feeling crawled through me. “Please…” I whispered, breathless. “Don’t…” His lips ghosted over my jaw. “Don’t what?” he asked. “Don’t stop?”

And when his fingers slipped beneath the fabric and pressed harder, I shattered. My body trembled as the climax hit, sharp and unexpected, pleasure crashing through me like betrayal. He felt it. Knew it. And still didn’t stop. “Oh god…” I whimpered, dazed, body slick with heat and shame.

Sieun only smiled against my neck. “Now,” he said, voice low and reverent, “I’m going to show you how much I love you.” He didn’t wait. He spun me around and pressed me against the wall, the cold surface biting at my flushed skin. My palms slapped against it, trying to steady myself as his hands were already dragging my skirt up over my hips rough.

“Stay there,” he ordered, voice darker now. “Keep those legs open.” Then he grabbed my soaked panties and yanked them down, letting them fall around my thighs. The air hit me, hot and cool all at once.

“Please stop,” I whispered, voice trembling. “What if someone sees us?” “Don’t worry about that,” Sieun murmured, his breath hot against my skin. “Just focus on me.” But I couldn’t. I couldn’t focus on him. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t pretend this felt right.

All I wanted was to be anywhere else..anywhere but here.  I felt him behind me, his cock hard, hot, rubbing between my folds without mercy. “You’re fucking soaked,” he growled. “You act like you don’t want this..but your pussy tells me everything I need to know.”

“Shut up,” I breathed, face pressed to the wall but my body rolled back against him anyway, needy and desperate. He grunted, gripping my hips hard, fingers digging into the soft curve. “You want to be used, don’t you?” I didn’t answer.

He drove into me with one brutal thrust. I cried out, my body jolting as he filled me. “Fucking tight,” he growled through gritted teeth. “This is mine now.” His hips snapped forward again, and again, slamming into me with no rhythm, just need. I gasped, the slap of skin-on-skin echoing through the room, my legs already shaking, fingers clawing at the wall for something to hold onto.

Every thrust forced a moan from my mouth, ragged and helpless. “Say it,” he growled, one hand sliding around to grab my throat, pulling me back against him. “Say you love being fucked like this.” I whimpered, his cock slamming into me again. My body clenched around him, wet and pulsing.

“Say it.”

“I…I love it,” I gasped, my voice cracking. “Sieun….please…” He slammed into me harder, punishing now. “You take me so well,” he murmured into my ear, hips snapping forward again. “Like you were made for this.”  His fingers found my clit again, rubbing fast and tight. I sobbed, hips jerking back into him as my body shattered.

My climax tore through me my walls gripping him hard, my legs shaking, my cries muffled by the wall. “Cum all over my cock,” he hissed, “God, that’s it… fuck!” With a low, guttural moan, he slammed into me one last time, hips grinding deep as he spilled inside me, heat flooding me in thick pulses.

My body wrecked, his chest pressed to my back, breath hot against my shoulder. Then slowly his hand slid around my waist, pulling me gently into him. “See?” he whispered, voice suddenly soft, almost tender. “I love you so much… You did so fucking good.”

But I didn’t feel good. I felt hollow. Tears slipped down my cheeks, silent and hot, even as he pulled out gently. He adjusted my underwear with care that felt too late, then turned me to face him.

His eyes searched mine for something I couldn’t give. He leaned in, pressed a kiss to my lips gentle, like that would erase everything. Then he smiled faintly and said, “Okay. Let’s take you home.”