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torarot · 2 years

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cry me a river | the second choice

— summary: an illusion of free choice, it will always be namjoon in the end

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: angst, mafia!au

— word count: 10.3k

— warnings: none but i do apologize beforehand for any anger/sadness you may feel :)

— PART 16 / previous post / masterpost

May 20XX; Age Six [Kim Namjoon]

“Joon.” Jungwon crouches down before him, his eyes a stare much more serious than ever before. There is still kindness in his eyes, there will always be kindness in his eyes, but as Namjoon looks up at his older brother, even the little boy can tell a storm may be brewing in the corner. “If I ever disappear,” he speaks in a low voice so that no one else can hear but Namjoon, “I want you to take over. You got that?”

Namjoon furrows his brows, a face of fear and confusion plastered upon his little boyish features. “Hyung…what do you mean by that?”

Jungwon smiles ruefully, the hand he has on his brother’s shoulder patting gently. “You know exactly what I mean.”

“But hyung, I..” Namjoon shakes his head, refusing to give into what his brothers’ words imply. “Disappear? What do you mean by that? If you’re not by my side, how can I ever go on, hyung? You can’t leave. I won’t be able to do anything without you.”

“Sure you can.” His voice is kind, sweet, always offering the gentlest words despite how cruel this world is. “I know you can.” Then, Jungwon’s tone shifts. “And I know you will.”

“Hyung?” Namjoon takes a step closer to his brother, anxiety weighing against his chest so strong he hopes it can disappear when he touches his brother’s hands but it doesn’t. Something’s not right. Something’s wrong. And usually, Jungwon’s always there to fix everything for him but this time it feels as if the very source of that problem is Jungwon himself.

And as if he’d disappear right before his eyes, Namjoon holds himself closer to his elder brother, panic settling in his chest in the most uncomfortable way.

“Don’t tell me…” He whispers, afraid of the answer.

When Jungwon sends him a tight smile, the answer is clear. “It’s okay, I’ll be gone for only a few years.”

“Years!” Namjoon exclaims in defiance. “Hyung, you can’t—”

“Shh!” A finger held against his lips, he quickly shuts the younger boy down as he looks around instantly, trying to sense any other presence around the two of them. But Namjoon doesn’t care for that right now, all Namjoon cares for is the fact that he’s going to be losing his brother very soon.

As if Jungwon can feel just how afraid his little brother is for his disappearance, his eyes settle back on him, large hands engulfing Namjoon’s with a tight squeeze.

“You’ll be alright, I just gotta take care of some things. But just in case, Joon, and this is just in case, got that?” He doesn’t continue until Namjoon gives him a nod. “Just in case something…” He hesitates, knowing that frightening the boy further will only alleviate more anxiety but he also knows that he has to in order to make him stronger. “If something goes wrong, I need you to become the head of Bangtan, you got that?”

“But—”

“No matter what,” he emphasizes with a force. “You have to become the next head. And if that takes you years before you can pick up the courage, let it be. Just know that no matter what, father cannot live until he lies on his deathbed with greying hair. I want you to bring him there before even a strand of his hair whitens.”

“Hyung..”

“I know.” Jungwon nods, his lips tight in a straight line before he continues. “I know it’s quite the burden I’ve placed on your shoulders but this is the only way you can free yourself, Joon. If I’m not here to be the one to take him down, you’re going to have to step up to be the big boy. You can do that, can’t you?”

“I..I-I’ll try,” he says, though knowing he could never. He’s just a little boy after all, and thinking about becoming the next head is something that can only happen in dreams and fairytales. “But hyung, you…you can’t die. Please, hyung,” Namjoon takes ahold of his brother’s shirt, pleading, begging, as his tiny little hands that are balled into knuckle white fists trembles. “You have to survive, no matter what. Or else I’ll never forgive you.”

“I know Joon, I know.” Jungwon brings his little brother into his chest in order to try and relieve some of the stress he’s feeling. He holds onto him tightly as he hides his own fears and unease. “No matter what, I will do all that I can to return to your side. I promise I’ll be back and when I come back, we’ll take over Bangtan together and lead the gang into a new era.”

“You promise?”

“Mmn. I promise.”

That was the first promise Jungwon ever broke.

June 20XX; Age Twenty-Two

“I hope that you will treat my daughter well. She is quite precious to me. She knows nothing of the violent side to things and I wish to keep that pure and innocence with her until the day she no longer walks this earth.”

The Grim Reaper. Said to be quite ruthless and cruel. There were rumors that he had a daughter but Namjoon never knew it was a daughter he cherished so much. Perhaps her hidden identity and the reason as to why she was known to only exist in rumors and fantasies is because the Grim Reaper hides her well in the hopes of protecting her.

Huh.

What a decent father, unlike the man Namjoon wishes to no longer remember.

“Of course. You have my word.”

“Namjoon, are you alright?”

It’s strange the way you concern yourself in his business despite only being in a marriage of convenience. From the first moment Namjoon saw you, he knew you were someone who only held kindness in your heart, but even then this was nothing but a contract.

“You do not need to concern yourself with me. We may be husband and wife but you are not obligated to care for my needs. Our marriage is only a contract after all.”

He hopes you would leave then. You look like someone who would listen to each and every word someone tells you to. After all, you’re even timid around his own boys despite the fact that you are in a position much higher than them. If you had the heart to, you could even berate them without fear of any consequences coming down on you with the power you hold. Obviously, Namjoon would never let you but he knows that even then, having your father’s strength behind you would serve well were you to use that to your advantage.

Thankfully, however, to Namjoon’s relief, you aren’t some spoiled brat who only thinks highly of herself.

“Forgive me, I do not mean to cross your boundaries but I am not speaking as your contractual wife, Namjoon. I am speaking to you as myself. As Y/N. Not Mrs. Kim.” His fingers freeze against his keyboard just as you say, “So I’d like to ask again; are you alright, Namjoon?”

What a strange little girl.

Strange indeed.

Yet…not the bad kind of strange.

You’re a kind young lady who knows how to treat others with respect, though a part of him believes you may be too cautious for your own good. Seokjin could tell right away that you fear them, that even though you try your hardest to be the kind person that you are, you still distance yourself in subtle ways, timid and afraid of things unbeknownst to them.

You hide yourself well, present yourself in a poised and elegant manner, different from what he images a young lady of your age should behave. You’re closer to Jungkook’s age, and although the young boy has his own pasts and traumas he’s dealt with, he’s learned to work well with others and be free in the ways he can (mostly through Jimin’s efforts).

But you’re different from Jungkook.

The both of you are on the quieter side, but unlike the way Jungkook’s content with his silence, you fall more rigid and timid and perhaps it’s all because you’re in an environment different from that of your father’s estate.

He wonders how you were treated there, how much he spoiled you, how the servants cared for you, and although a part of Namjoon envies you for growing up with a kind father who watches out for your wellbeing, he knows not to get jealous of those things.

Still, it makes him wonder just what sort of reaction you’d have were he to put you in a difficult position.

And through his selfishness, he makes his first mistake and lives to regret it the moment he sees you crying in the arms of Taehyung.

“I was scared,” you confess in a barely audible whisper. “I was so scared.”

He should have never mixed purity with the cruel world he grew up in. No matter how envious he was of the way you grew up, no matter how curious he was to see how you’d respond to being put in a spot that’d make things difficult for you for the first time, he should have never done what he did.

Namjoon was cruel.

A cruel, cruel man.

“I made you feel as if you had no choice to refuse, as if you were nothing but a pawn to me.”

“But, I am a pawn.”

He saw himself in you. In the way you coward before him as if he was still the little boy that he was years ago, trying to look his bravest but ultimately failing whenever it came to confronting his father head-on.

His father always made him feel like a pawn and here he is, doing the exact same thing to an innocent little girl.

“No. You are Y/N. You are not a pawn. You deserve to live just as much as the rest of us.”

He should have never forced you into that situation.

“Want to sneak out?” Namjoon hears a voice in the middle of the night, the tone whispered lowly as if up to no good.

He lets out a silent sigh as he remains hidden behind a wall, taking a small glance Jungkook’s way as the two of them were just on their way back from a meeting. The younger one remains the silent person that he is, not uttering a word as the troublesome Jimin tries to coerce you into sneaking out.

“What, I..-I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Jimin, I’m…did you forget who I am?”

Daughter of a powerful mafia leader, wife to another powerful mafia leader. Perhaps living the life protected by others may indeed be burdensome at times. You have restrictions, unable to live the normal life you’d like, not being able to enjoy the world outside as much as you wish to, being cautious of your identity, and always having to ask permission for every little thing in order to remain safe and secure.

He’s seen the way your father treats you; eyes always kept your way no matter where you go as if cautious and afraid something would go wrong were something to happen. You’ve never lived a life without being under surveillance, have you?

He guesses even the love of a father may be burdensome, just as it is for a child growing up without love. Though he’s glad you didn’t have to grow up the way he did. At least you had people who cared for you and he hoped you’ve had nothing but the best growing up.

“Namjoon will be upset and angry at me if he ever finds out.”

When his name is brought into the conversation, Namjoon begins listening in more intently.

“Oh please,” he hears Jimin laugh, “If Namjoon ever finds out, he’ll only go after me. I promise.”

How shameful of him, knowing just how troublesome he is that he’ll be the only one getting scolded and yet continues on his antics without care.

“I can’t believe in that promise.”

“Huh. You really don’t trust him, do you?”

“Our relationship was arranged, Namjoon wouldn’t let me off if I were to ever disobey him.”

Namjoon leans away from the wall after those words, a hand placed upon the maknae’s shoulder as he whispers, “Watch over them, will you?”

“Hyung?” As he goes on to walk off, Jungkook looks back at him with confusion. “You won’t try to stop Jimin?”

The leader simply gives him a shrug before disappearing into the dark halls, leaving Jungkook to do what he wants with both you and Jimin.

It seems that as the day passes by, the boys are slowly becoming fond of you. Even Jungkook who’s usually very slow upon warming up to people doesn’t reappear before him later that night, leaving Namjoon to guess that he went on the expedition with you and Jimin.

When he asks you about it the next day, you put the blames all on yourself, not wanting anyone else to get in trouble, and Namjoon sighs.

“You are my wife, Y/N, not my prisoner. If you wish to go out, you have every right to do so. However, you must make sure that you have at least two guards with you at all times. You are my wife, after all, even if no one knows of your identity.”

Even if it’s just the smallest amount of freedom he can give you, Namjoon hopes it’ll give you a bit of a breather.

If even a little.

Yet freedom comes at a price and the second Namjoon thought he’d finally be able to see your happiness flourishing, the light that produced flickered away in mere minutes and you’re down on the ground, panicking with fear taking total control until it is Seokjin who has to be the one to ground you down.

“I’m here,” he repeats, “I’m here.”

He goes through a breathing exercise with you patiently, gently, until finally your exhaustion catches onto you and you collapse there right in his arms, falling asleep to the beat of his heartbeat.

Namjoon vows right then and there to give the man who had done this to you the slowest death he can offer.

You were so happy a few days ago, smiling and laughing along after what he had put you through, and just when he thought things have finally calmed down, your peace and joy has been ripped away from you once more.

He won’t forgive himself for using you as a pawn but he’ll kill the one who had scared you and shattered your soft, forgiving heart.

Namjoon fell in love with you just as fast as he had fallen out of love.

Just three years — two years of loving. And Namjoon grew tired of your silence.

Your silence.

Your quiet, quiet silence.

When he loved and cared and opened his heart up, revealing his deepest insecurities and pasts with you, things he never does unless he truly trusts someone, when he broke down his walls and allowed you into his arms, you remained silent.

There were times when you’d lean on them, when you’d turn to them during rough moments, when you couldn’t sleep, when you were feeling insecure about your position in the relationship, when you were afraid of an enemy, when you just needed a shoulder to cry on.

But there were also times when you’d awake in the middle of the night, shutting down and holding yourself together without the tiniest peep. Those were the times when Namjoon had to make an effort. To hold you, to remind you that it was okay to turn to them, to lean on them.

Because they loved you.

There were times when you’d shed tears and say nothing, remaining completely silent. No matter how much effort he had put in, how much they had put in, trying to ease the answers out of you, remaining patient with you all the way, reminding you of their love and care, you wouldn’t say a word about your struggles.

And it hurts because they’ve shared parts of themselves that no one else knew yet there you were, walls still held up high without the slightest crack in between.

Did you love them as much as they loved you? Were they showing you enough love? What if all their efforts were all for naught? What if their love weren’t enough for you to see, to feel, to have, to hold, to cherish? What if they weren’t good enough to keep you as their own?

What if you were better off returning to your father? In a place where you’re used to, surrounded by people who knows you, who understands just what to do when you’re like this? Those who can take care of you in ways they could never?

If you returned, would you be happier?

“Is she even happy?”

“What are you saying, Namjoon?” Seokjin looks at him as if he has two heads, brows deepened with confusion as he pushes aside the paperwork before him. “You can’t just go around coming up with your own conclusions without communicating.”

“I tried, hyung, I’ve tried.” He runs a hand through his hair, biting onto his lower lip to keep his emotions at bay. “But she doesn’t say anything, hyung. What am I supposed to do with that?”

“So you try harder,” Seokjin stresses, feeling irritated he even has to say such simple reasonings aloud. “She’s always been so patient with us, why can’t you do the same?”

“I know hyung, I know.” He knows, he understands, but the longer he’s kept in the dark, the more his thoughts stray away into thinking what if you were better off elsewhere? What if you were better off returning to your father? To your safe place? If he can’t provide you with the right love and care that you need, then wouldn’t it be better for you to return to the Reapers?

“I feel like I’m not doing enough,” he says as he looks away from Seokjin, trying to hide the overwhelming emotions. “I thought that if I loved her enough, she’d finally trust us with her vulnerable side but what if this love isn’t enough for her? What if all that I’ve been doing has been for naught? What if—”

“Namjoon.” The eldest lowers his voice into a threat, not wanting him to utter any more words.

But Namjoon keeps going. “What if I end this?”

“Kim Namjoon.” Seokjin stands from his chair, feet stomping right on over and without hesitation, pushes Namjoon right up the wall behind him in a harsh and forceful manner. “Don’t you dare say that ever again. Just because the two of you are legally married doesn’t mean the rest of us shouldn’t have a say in it. If you end it for the two of you, you end it for the rest of us.”

“But she’d be happier!”

“You don’t know that!”

“What else am I supposed to think?!” He looks up with a force and Seokjin almost gasps at the sight of tears falling from his eyes. Namjoon isn’t one to shed tears, not like how easy it is for someone like Jungkook. Out of everyone, the leader always keeps himself composed no matter what situation he’s faced with and it has to take a lot in him to finally allow tears to fall.

Seokjin almost takes a step back when Namjoon leans against the wall and slides down, hitting the ground with a thud. He lets his tears flow, not caring to wipe them away, not caring to hide them anymore.

“I can’t love her enough,” he says in a low, low whisper. “My love isn’t enough for her.”

“...What are you trying to say?”

Namjoon falls silent for a moment. And a heartbeat later, he confesses his feelings. “I can’t love her,” he says, “not in the way I used to.”

As his nostrils thicken and his eyes redden, Seokjin pulls Namjoon back up by the collar. “What sort of pathetic excuse were you trying to make before?” He growls, the flash of anger and hurt clearly seen in his eyes. “She’d be happier with her father? Are you serious? Y/N’s silence shouldn’t be the reason for you to give up like this. You know perfectly well how love works. Not everything is exciting and filled with happiness. Sometimes it gets a little dull and that infatuation you felt at first will dwindle down but that doesn’t mean you give up on it the second you feel it. If you can do it with the rest of us, why can’t you do it with Y/N? You love us all the same, why can’t that be the same for Y/N? Was your love for her that weak? You know just as well as I do how much patience it takes to break down someone’s walls and the second you feel you can’t do it as easily as you’ve done for the rest of us, you’re willing to back down. You’re pathetic, Kim Namjoon.”

He knows.

He knows he’s pathetic.

But the more he tries, the harder it is, and the more he comes to learn that he can never love you in the same way he used to.

“Joon!”

Even the soft little nickname that always got him to smile no longer works for you and soon the rest of the boys all catch up to it. Fights break out behind your back and the longer this goes on, the more frustrated Namjoon gets.

He hates how pathetic he’s acting, hates the way feelings work, because he tries, he does, but doesn’t try enough to make things work and soon enough, the way the others care for you starts to irritate him as well. He hates how sweet they are towards you, how they defend you every time he has something to say, how he watches their love for you is kept the same and yet his is different.

And most of all, he hates how kind you still are despite knowing Namjoon’s changed.

He knows you know and he hates how you refuse to address it, wanting to believe in the Namjoon you fell in love with. For a while, Namjoon thought that was fine, that if he too refuses to see his changing feelings, he can come to love you all the same again.

But that doesn’t work and his frustrations get the best of him.

“If this continues, I’ll end up lashing out at her.”

He hates the way the others look at him but he deserves it, he knows he deserves it.

“So what? You’re gonna say it’s better to let her go before any of that happens? Before you hurt her? Return her to her father because she’d be happier there than pretend things are going well between the two of you?”

When Taehyung points out those things, Namjoon doesn’t say a word.

He just nods, and that causes another fight to break out.

The tension grows and grows between them, all the while you turn to Hoseok, the only man who’s unaware of what’s going on around him, finding your safe space in him.

Hoseok who doesn’t know a thing. Hoseok who still loves you more than anything else in the world and you, who clings onto his love because everything else seems to be falling apart. But even then, Namjoon sees the way you hide your true feelings from him, not wanting him to worry and perhaps afraid that if he knew, he’d also fall into the tension that has grown between the rest of them.

Namjoon knows how dumb he’s being, that he should try harder but trying harder only makes him grow more irritated, and soon enough he just stops.

Stops trying.

Maybe if he acts differently around you, maybe if he makes you hate him, it’d be easier to let you go. Because that way you can feel better about returning to your father. He’d rather you hate him than hold onto a false hope thinking he could change and revert back to the old him.

He’ll make you hate him and he’ll force you to take the step into calling for a divorce.

The night Namjoon lashes out on you, Taehyung meets him when he slams the door closed on your face, a look of disappointment clear on his face as he bites his tongue back when the two of them meet eyes. Taehyung’s jaw is clenched, hands balled into a fist, trembling by his side as he tries to subdue his emotions.

“A pawn?” He whispers, scoffing at the disgusting words that left his leader’s lips.

Namjoon looks away, chin protruding.

“You have no right, Kim Namjoon. To tell her such things.”

And when your cries echo softly from the other side of the door, Taehyung lets his own tears fall. His eyes redden as he keeps silent, not wanting you to hear a single peep, while he levels daggers into Namjoon’s head.

But the man doesn’t give him a reaction. He turns away and walks off, leaving Taehyung to hear your cries all to himself.

He stays there for the longest time, listening to you from the other side of the door, keeping himself concealed, hidden, despite his body screaming at him to rip open that door and hold you tightly. All the noises that leave your lips tears him down to pieces.

He hates it most when you cry, hates your tears, your broken state, and he hates himself most of all for just staying there stoned to the floor, not making a single move to walk towards you or away.

He just stays there, listening to the broken record that falls from you, left damaged by Namjoon’s words.

It is until two hours pass does Taehyung actually make a move. You’d gone silent an hour ago but he knows that in spite of your silence, you still cry. That’s just how you are. You hate making the slightest peep when you cry, hate it when others hear you even if no one’s by your side.

You hide all that you are even while basking in your own comfort.

So when Taehyung’s absolutely sure you’ve fallen asleep from all that crying, he opens the door to your bedroom and walks in to find you sitting against the wall, head leaned to your right where the bookshelf lies, eyes shut closed with faint dry tears marking your cheeks.

He steps in and takes a seat before you, watching as you breathe in and out, chest heaving slowly and peacefully. Taehyung lets his tears fall silently for you, hating every moment of this, and finally gets up to pick you up in his arms.

He settles you into your bed carefully and thoughtfully, making sure you’re comfortably tucked in, and just as he’s about to move away, he feels a tug pulling him back in and Taehyung freezes.

For a moment there his heart skipped a beat, worried you had woken up from him moving you around, but when Taehyung looks back to see that your eyes are still closed, his heart only tugs with an ache.

Look at you, clinging to his warmth even in your dreams, as if a second longer without them brings a second more pain into your life and he knows, he knows that he’s hurting you. He knows that you spend nights after nights worried about how strong their love is for you, about being a burden, about not being enough, and so he hates himself most of all for not being the one to soothe those insecurities of yours away.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers brokenly when he leans in and presses a kiss to your cheek. A teardrop escapes his eye, dropping onto your precious skin, and Taehyung cries a little more while trying his best to keep as silent as possible.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, he says them in his head, worried you may wake up and pray that you can hear them in your dreams.

He kisses you a few times, delivering apologies after apologies, knowing that no matter how many times he utters them, they will never be enough. Nothing will ever be enough.

When Taehyung leaves your room after some time, he takes another moment to himself right there in front of your bedroom door, and grabs a handful of his shirt to wipe the tears from his eyes, all the while knowing that sharp aching pain in his chest will never cease.

Someone’s footsteps are heard and when he looks up, he finds Jimin in the shadows of the darkness.

They don’t say a word to one another but Taehyung sees the way water glimmers in his soulmate’s eyes.

Five minutes.

It takes five minutes for Jungkook to make sure you aren’t returning for him to release his gun and slam it harshly to the ground.

It smashes into pieces with a loud sound but he doesn’t care. All he cares is for the hurt on your face he’s sure was there when he kept his back on you, speaking in short and blunt words to make you turn away from him.

The door is closed after you left but one look at the sandwich you left behind makes a tear fall from his eye.

“Don’t push yourself too hard,” you told him, voice kept kind and gentle yet he heard the restrain, the way you were holding yourself back from him. You wanted his attention, his soft smile, his words of affirmation, to stop focusing so much on his targets and turn around to provide you with his full attention in the way he’s always done.

But Jungkook had only hurt you and forced you out the door.

“What does loyalty mean?” He asks Seokjin later that day, eyes hard and demanding after walking in through his door without so much of a greeting, but Jungkook doesn’t care. “If I betray this gang, will I have to pay with my life? Will you kill me?”

The eldest hovers his pen in mid-air, silent.

“I know I owe him my life, he’s done so much for me and I love him but…” His voice threatens to fall apart, jammed against his throat, but Jungkook swallows hard to speak again. “I love her too, hyung.” He lets out a shaky breath and tears fall. Tears only seem to be falling these days. “It isn’t fair, hyung, can’t you say something? Anything? He listens to you, can’t you do something? You still love her, don’t you? If you say something that’ll make him change his mind, we’ll be okay again and we won’t have to risk Y/N—”

“You know just as well as I do Namjoon does not change his mind once it’s made up.”

Jungkook chokes on his tears because he knows. He knows nothing can be done.

Namjoon has fallen out of love and the rest of them has to pay the price.

“It isn’t fair what we’re doing to her, hyung, can’t you see? I don’t want her to hate me and I don’t want to hate her. Why do we have to hurt just because things stopped working out for him? Why do we have to hurt her too?”

“Jungkook–”

“If this was another life, if I was an ordinary man,” he grits his teeth, staring hard at his eldest hyung, “I’d choose her in a heartbeat.”

Seokjin can say nothing to that.

In another life, Jungkook would make you his number one priority. In another life, Jungkook would make sure you were his first choice.

Because in this life you will always come second to Namjoon whether he wants that or not. In this life, he has to choose Namjoon, in this life he chose Namjoon first so he can’t choose anyone else.

Polyamory shouldn’t be this hard. It was working out well for them without any problems in between so why did something have to start going wrong when you came along? You’ve done nothing wrong, you’ve done all that you could, but now your biggest insecurity is biting back at you and there’s nothing Jungkook can do to change that.

He can’t choose you.

Jungkook cries that night, hard, and punches Namjoon against his chest because he doesn’t want to let you go. He loves you and he hates that he’s forced into a position where he has to choose between you and Namjoon.

For them, for the boys, that choice will always be Namjoon.

Because Namjoon was there first and Namjoon is their boss. Choosing between a woman of another gang and the man who leads your gang will only lead you down one road.

An illusion of free choice.

Because loyalty to the mafia comes first. Without the mafia, they have nothing.

“Why, why, why?” Jungkook pleads in a broken voice, the punches he gives out weakening by the second and Namjoon stands there, taking it all in.

They hate it.

They hate it because you’ve voiced your insecurities before. Your insecurities about being a second choice, being left behind, and not being enough for them. You will always be enough for them, always, but when it comes to having to choose between their mafia and you, you will always be the second choice.

“Then…let’s divorce.”

Three words.

Gentle eyes.

A kind smile.

Breaking.

Broken.

They broke you.

“You’re okay with this?” Hoseok sits against a wall, his head lowered with no energy left in him as he asks Yoongi that question.

The room remains quiet for the longest time as Yoongi holds his breath and Hoseok sits there, the fight in him slipping away as tears fall from his eyes, hidden through the darkness of his hair. Yoongi can tell he’s crying with the way his shoulders trembles and it’s a sight that breaks him.

A sight that hurts him.

“I thought you loved her, hyung, I thought…I thought that we…that…” The lump in his throat makes it hard for him to make out proper words and while Yoongi tries to comfort him with a hand on his shoulder, Hoseok only shakes it off with a forceful flick, not wanting his sympathy. “You’re a coward,” he utters with disgust as he takes a stand, refusing to meet him in the eyes. “Just because we weren’t legally married to her doesn’t mean it’s okay to let her fall victim to Namjoon’s abuse. You think you’re not bad? That it’s easier to forgive you because you didn’t do anything?”

He scoffs, laughing bitterly. “No hyung. It’s because you didn’t do anything that probably drove her to end things. Am I good enough?” He quotes your thoughts, uttering them clearly for Yoongi to hear every word. “Did I do something wrong? Was it something I did? Why won’t they look at me? Why won’t they care for me? They still love me, right? Everything’s my fault, isn’t it? Namjoon doesn’t like me but they still do, right? They still care, right? Ah, but if they do then that means I’m forcing them to choose between me and Namjoon. Who will they choose? They’ll choose Namjoon because they loved him first. They love him. They love Namjoon. Namjoon. Namjoon. And I will always be their second choice.”

Hoseok pushes Yoongi out of anger, hating every bit of this as more tears fall, his rage getting the best of him. “How dare you let her biggest nightmare come true? Made her think she would always be our second choice?”

“Hoseok—”

“While I laid there on the hospital bed thinking everything was fine, that everything was perfect and everything was good, you could’ve done something. Y/N wasn’t ever going to tell me anything no matter how much I begged it out of her. She was hurting and yet she always smiled my way, pretending all was okay and you know what’s crazy? How convincing she was.”

You just missed him, you’d tell him, that you were worried about his injuries hurting him and while a part of that must’ve been true, Hoseok knows damn well it wasn’t all of your worries.

You lied to him and he couldn’t see through those lies. Just what else were you hiding from him? What else did you hide under that perfect dollhouse smile? Living in a world that looked so perfect, filled with so many beautiful things, of sunshine and rainbows, with nothing but laughter and a sweet smile. You filled his world with warmth, with so much care and patience, always knowing just what to do when things weren’t right, when things went wrong.

You always knew.

Always knew whenever his smile was fake, when he felt as if the world was caving in, when he’d brave himself and put on a facade that would fool millions.

Among the seven billion people that live on this earth, you’re the only one who always knew the second something was wrong with him and in turn, Hoseok fell blind to your own sufferings, to your hurting, to your pains.

He thought he knew you best but he didn’t.

He never did.

I’m tired, you told him, and Hoseok’s eyes blind with tears as he looks up at his hyung, a fist ready to land right upon his face if it weren’t for someone holding him back.

Yoongi would have let him punch him but Jungkook doesn’t.

“Hyung, stop,” the youngest one says in a plea as he forces Hoseok away with a protective stance before the older one.

Their eyes meet and Hoseok knows. Hoseok knows he can’t let his rage blind him into hurting his loved ones so he takes a step back, punching the wall instead.

“Hyung-!”

“How did she look, Jungkook?” He turns to him with a force, hand trembling, knuckles bruised as blood drips from his ripped skin.

“Hyung..”

“Tell me, Jungkook. How did she look?” He asks again with a little more force, teeth gritting. “When you forced her to her breaking point, when you stood there doing nothing but watched on, not caring to do a single thing to help her out? How did she look when she took off her wedding ring and said she wanted a divorce? I know you were there,” he takes a glance at Yoongi, “both of you. All of you.” He glances back at Jungkook, jaw clenched tightly as he demands an answer.

The younger one averts his gaze to the floor, biting onto his lower lip as he usually does when he’s trying to remain calm over his emotions. He can feel the tears coming when he remembers your face.

Your precious, precious face.

So broken and defeated.

“She smiled,” he says and Hoseok’s face crumbles.

His lips quiver as he turns back to the wall, punching and punching.

“Hyung, stop! Please!”

Even as Jungkook tries to pull him back, Hoseok pushes him off aggressively. “You don’t deserve to cry, Jungkook!” He shouts with so much emotions it breaks them both. “You don’t deserve to regret it now. Not now, not when everything’s done and over with. It’s too late to cry now. It’s too late to feel guilty for what you’ve done.”

He rips his gaze from the tears that fall down Jungkook’s cheeks, looking away from the both of them as he hits his forehead against the wall. The punches that follow weaken and even with the pain he feels from his knuckles, Hoseok knows it’ll never hurt more than how much they’ve hurt you.

He breaks down again for the hundredth time that day, strength falling weak. “You could’ve done something but you didn’t,” he whispers, his voice trembling. “You could’ve…you could’ve saved her. I love her so, so much. How could you do that to me? To her? How could you…?”

When Yoongi cries, he does it softly and quietly and keeps it to himself. He doesn’t like bothering people, doesn’t like the attention and questions that he earns from people when they do see him cry because he’ll never know what to say.

He hates explaining himself and would rather be invisible to the world than anything else in those moments.

He’s usually good at hiding it when he’s cried. He’ll put on a straight face and pretend those past few minutes of shedding tears were nonexistent, but for some reason, someone always manages to see right through him.

“Hyung?” Hoseok will ask after him but Hoseok isn’t here to look out for him now. He’s got his own tears to worry about.

“Yoongi?” And you’re gone.

Gone from his life because he’s pushed you away and didn’t do anything to stop you.

You’re gone, no longer there to collect after his tears.

“I thought you loved her.”

He did. He does. He does.

But Hoseok’s right; he could have saved you. He could have done something, to have done anything, to have at least made it hurt less, to have protected you from Namjoon’s anger. He could have shielded you from such words that had broken you to pieces but his negligence and the way he left you to deal with everything all on your own had only hurt you more.

He broke you.

Hoseok’s right. He might not have been the one who had broken you down with crude words but he’s still part of the reason you were driven down the edge of the cliff. He’s just as bad, just as bad as Namjoon, and shedding any tears now, regretting anything now is meaningless.

You’re gone.

“Do you love me?” Jimin asks, his voice small and quiet.

“I love you,” Namjoon nods.

He falls silent, eyes still in his lap as he refuses to look up. Namjoon doesn’t know what to say nor does he know what Jimin’s trying to say but still he waits there, patient enough to sit through however long it will take for Jimin to speak again, even if that means missing his meeting.

“Do you love me the same as the day you fell in love with me?” Jimin asks as if that had been the question he was meaning to ask all along.

“I do,” Namjoon answers. “Though if anything, I probably love you more than that day.”

“Ah.” Jimin nods, falling silent once more, and when he speaks again, his voice is softer, weaker, as if afraid to offend his lover but at the same time, knowing he has to say it. “Then why couldn’t it be the same for her?”

Her.

You.

Namjoon’s heart aches when he hears Jimin sniffle.

“Why couldn’t…why couldn’t you love her all the same? I…I was so cold to her.” His voice breaks, trembling. “I ignored her when she sought for my attention, for my love, and despite how many times I pushed her away, she still pressed on a smile as if saying that she understood because I was busy. I wasn’t busy, hell if she asked, I’d stop everything just to spend more time with her — she doesn’t even have to ask and I’d do it in a heartbeat. And yet…yet I…”

“Jimin..-”

“I’m sorry,” he quickly apologizes though he feels no courage to wipe the tears that have fallen, knowing only more was to come. “I’m sorry, Namjoon, I know I can’t force your feelings to change but I…I just…I wish things didn’t end like this. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Namjoon. I’m so, so sorry.”

Sorry for loving you, for choosing you.

Namjoon knows he doesn’t deserve this, doesn’t deserve Jimin’s apology. But as he sits there before the younger man, his voice refuses to leave his throat as he watches him break before him, tears falling, head refusing to even look up at him.

They love him and they chose him but in the end, they will always love you.

Why did he stop loving you?

Why did he have to break them like this?

“Do you think I’m selfish?”

Seokjin stops in his tracks just as he was on his way out, pausing to turn around and look at the man who sits alone in his chair, eyes distant as he stares blankly at nothing before him, head in a space elsewhere.

“Yeah,” the eldest admits without a thought and although Namjoon knows just how true that is, it still hurts to hear the truth. “I love you, Namjoon, but…do you really have no remorse?” Seokjin steps over towards him, eyes never leaving as he awaits the answer to his question.

“You know more than I do feelings are things that can never be forced,” Namjoon responds robotically.

“That may be true but that doesn’t mean what you did was right.” He places his papers onto the desk, lips pressed into a straight line. “Hoseok refuses to even look at us and the others…they aren’t doing well. Jungkook has gone completely silent, Taehyung refuses to leave his lab, Jimin doesn’t smile anymore, and Yoongi almost got himself killed the other night because he couldn’t focus. Did you really want Y/N to hate us that much? So that it’d be easier for her to leave? From what I saw, it didn’t look easy in the slightest for her.”

When Namjoon doesn’t say anything, Seokjin continues with his voice slowly growing strained as a lump grows in his throat, threatening to hide his voice, threatening to break. He presses on. “I put up with your play because between you and her, the only choice I could choose was you. This life has tied us down together, I have nothing if I leave the mafia. We owe you our lives and loyalty to the gang comes first and foremost but if I was a normal man who didn’t kill for a living, who do you think I would have chosen in that case?”

Namjoon remains silent upon those words.

“You thought you’d do all that you could to make her hate you because then it’d be easier for her to leave that way? Namjoon, can’t you see? Y/N could never hate you no matter what you do. She loves you too much for that. And yet you forced her to rip that ring off her finger.”

“If she stayed…I would have forced the six of you into a hard place.”

He knows. Seokjin knows.

Namjoon falling out of love would have broken the relationship either way and inevitably force them to pick a side. Allowing you to leave was him making their choice a little easier because they would have inevitably chosen to stay with him.

Loyalty to the mafia comes first.

Loyalty.

But, “That doesn’t mean she deserved what we did to her.”

“...I know.”

It takes a lot for someone like Seokjin to cry. Out of all the members in the group, no one has ever seen him shed a tear and he intends to keep it that way.

So when night falls and no one is by his side, Seokjin leaves the sanctuary of Bangtan’s manor and goes on a long, long drive down a road that never seems to end. Everything is silent when he stops in the middle of nowhere, eyes staring blankly at the stars against the horizon before him.

He remembers one specific night when he thought everyone was asleep, when he thought he was safe all to himself, only to hear a small little voice reaching out to him when he was on his way out the door.

“Seokjin?” You called unto him sweetly, a small croak in your voice indicating that you had just woken up. You rubbed your fists against your eyes, an action that caused him to immediately walk over to grab your hands away.

“What’re you doing up in the middle of the night?” He had asked. This was a year ago when things were okay, when things weren’t falling apart.

“I think I woke up because..hm…someone feels a little lonely tonight.”

“You?”

“You,” you said, eyes looking up right at him and for a second there Seokjin felt as if you had seen right through him, as if your eyes were magic and could see a portal right into his soul. He tried to shake it off, not wanting to make it a big deal, but you asked if you could go with him on the drive instead, refusing to let him be.

There was a gentle smile resting on your face as if you knew, as if all the parts of him that he was hiding from you and the members were unveiling just by a single look from you. He allowed you to ride along with him but kept silent and you basked in that silence, not uttering a single word to push him through anything he didn’t want to say.

No one’s ever seen Seokjin cry but he’s seen you cry before, lots and lots of times. And that night, you cried again right before him when he spoke the tales of his past, the life he lived before he met Namjoon, of the little boy he was who had been exploited by the people around him as if he was nothing but a living doll who had no control over his fate.

You cried hard, words choked up against your throat when you tried to say something until it got too much you resigned to just crying.

“I’m sorry,” you said, as if you were the one who had put him in such a situation, as if you were the goddess of fate that had led him to lead such a life.

In the middle of the night with nothing but the light of the stars up above shining your ways, he held onto you as you cried for him, cursing at the world for hurting the little boy that he was and for putting him through so much.

But he reassured you that he was okay now, that he didn’t have to dwell on the past anymore because he was saved. Namjoon saved him, took his hand, and gave him the life he so deserved from the very beginning.

Namjoon saved him.

Namjoon.

“Please.” The image of you kneeling on the floor flashes in his mind. Your broken voice, desperate and craving for the warmth they once so effortlessly gave you. “Please, I...I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

A tear falls from Seokjin’s eye, and when one falls, another follows along until the whole dam breaks and there’s nothing he can do to stop them.

He loves you.

Seokjin loves you so much.

But does he really deserve to say any of that now after tearing you down to pieces?

It was a rough, rocky road. Everything fell apart after the divorce and Namjoon took all the blames for it because he knew everything was his fault; Jungkook and Yoongi’s insomnia, Taehyung being holed up in his lab refusing to speak, Jimin’s silence, Seokjin’s anger, and Hoseok’s pains and distance.

They fell into a place darker than the depth of the ocean and Namjoon himself could feel just how different things turned out to be after you left.

It was odd how things were okay before you came into the picture but the second you left after making such an impact in their lives, nothing was ever the same again. It was like a piece of them was missing, broken hearts that could never be filled, their souls shattered.

Your smiles, your giggles, your kindness, and your warmth.

All of it was gone.

Even the ones who never fell in love with you in the first place could feel just how empty the mafia came to be after you left. You treated the mafia well, after all, taking the effort in getting to know their names, appreciating them for their works, and greeting them with smiles whenever you got the chance. You made an impact in everyone’s lives and Namjoon took that all away from them.

But regretting was something that could never happen.

He could regret and feel guilty for all he wants, he knows he can never get you back. The contract the two of you made in the lone presence of each other wrote out rules upon never seeing each other again, no matter the circumstances.

You wrote that line yourself and it was probably a way for you to properly heal from them. Seeing them would only hurt you after all, and Namjoon accepted the words of the contract.

He has to abide by them.

Everything was his fault and he could feel the weight of that burden shaking his core. But the boys loved him, they love him.

And because of that, eventually, things came back together.

Piece by piece.

With lots of patience and lots of time.

They grew to forgive him, knew that losing feelings wasn’t something that was under his control, but Namjoon knows a part of them will always resent him for the way he treated you after he gave up on trying to keep the relationship together. You didn’t deserve his heartless actions towards you after all, and Namjoon knows that.

It took Hoseok the longest time to return to their side but he came back.

Eventually.

But while the rest of them came to accept the fact that you’re gone from their lives, Namjoon knows Hoseok still holds onto a small little hope from within.

Because whether it was out of romantic or platonic feelings, Hoseok never stopped loving you.

Hoseok doesn’t look at him the same way but Hoseok still loves him and Hoseok still cares.

And perhaps the reason why Hoseok decided to return to his side is because he knows you would rather it turn out that way than be the reason for their downfall.

Truth is nothing was ever your fault, Namjoon can admit that. He can admit that everything was his fault, that he is all to blame, and that a part of him will always seek for an answer as to why he stopped loving you.

He never meant to, never meant to grow irritated, never meant to get impatient, get angry, upset, and made you out to be the villain when in reality, everything was his fault. He never meant to grow envious of the way you grew up, living a peaceful life adored by your father. You told him that just because you grew up differently from him didn’t mean you didn’t have a rough time and Namjoon knows that.

He knows it in the way you have scars down your back, hidden away from prying eyes. He knows it in the way you present yourself, always kind, always gentle, towards anyone and everyone. He knows it in the way you flinch at guns, when you’d wake in the middle of the night because of nightmares, when you’d silently reach out for a hand to touch you, for arms to caress you. He knows it in the way you hold your walls way up high, always there for others but afraid to let anyone in.

He should have been more patient, should have been more careful, but his restlessness and his greed got the best of him. He wanted to know, to hear, to help, to support, but in doing so, grew impatient and snapped at you.

His excuse was wanting to make you hate him and as a result, hoped to create an easier path for you to walk on when you returned to your father.

But in truth Seokjin was right. He knew, he always knew, that you’d never have it in your heart to come to hate him. You’re too kind for that, too gentle, too forgiving, and too loving.

You loved him too much to hate him.

“Hyung…” He stares at the picture of his precious older brother who in thought still lives and is hidden away somewhere. Namjoon lets a tear slip when he hangs his head, shoulders hunched, elbows resting on his thighs. “Tell me what to do, hyung…”

The only thing that keeps him from feeling too much guilt is the fact that you have a home to return to. A loving father, a loving family, a loving mafia who holds you to a pedestal and would never let anything happen to you.

Bang!

Sweet little Y/N.

Sweet and kind and gentle.

The image shatters like a glass tipped over the table with nothing soft to land on, falling into tiny little pieces with nothing that can be done to put it back to one full glass.

You hold your gun right at him, finger ready to pull the trigger without a blink in the eyes as the roaring thunder pours on and on, the only sound filling up the silence that has walked in.

The loving father that Namjoon thought him to be lies dead on the ground behind you, and the very daughter who, without hesitation, pulled the trigger on, stands before him with eyes he has never seen before.

No light shines in those eyes, not in the way he was used to, as if darkness took control of your heart and snatched away the precious light that once lit up his whole world.

Dead.

What happened to the Y/N he knew?

“I killed him.”

I killed him.

I killed him, I killed him, IkilledhimIkilledhimIkilledhim.

The brother he loves with all his heart, the brother who stood by his side, there from the very moment he came out of his mother’s womb, the one who held his heart, who stood against his father whenever he made a mistake, protecting him, loving him.

The very brother he held onto the hope of finding him someday lost somewhere on this tiny little Earth.

Is dead.

“..When I come back, we’ll take over Bangtan together and lead the gang into a new era.”

“You promise?”

“Mmn, I promise.”

A promise broken. A promise shattered.

“I have a brother. He…he’s missing. I don’t know where he is and I don’t know where he went but he made me a promise that he’d return. I’m saving my seat on the throne for him so that when he returns, he can sit on a chair that’s warm rather than cold.”

“You’re going to give up your seat for him?” You ask, a small little tilt in your head.

“Mmn,” Namjoon nods as a tear slips from his eye. He keeps a pressed smile on his face as he looks back at you who sits right beside him, listening to every word he has to say with much patience and much love. “The throne was rightfully his after all.”

“What will you do when he returns?”

You don’t question his disappearance, you don’t doubt Namjoon when he says his brother will return. It’s been years and those years made his own allies doubt in his words but you, you keep his hopes alive, shining bright in the darkness of the night, without any doubt clouding your thoughts.

You believe that his brother will return to his side and Namjoon smiles just as another tear falls.

“Hmm..I’d love to go on vacation with the six of you,” he says in a jest, chuckling as he imagines the scene. “Though I’ll probably have to stay a few years to help Jungwon out first, get him adjusted back into Bangtan, let him catch up on everything’s he’s missed in the past few years.”

“And then?”

“And then,” he wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you in close, “we’ll travel the world, go wherever you’d like.”

“Wherever I’d like?”

“Mmn. Wherever you’d like.” Namjoon looks down at you with a gentle smile as you lean in close to his chest, eyes looking straight up at him. “If you could go anywhere in this world, where would you go?”

“Hmm…” You purse your lips, thinking, but the thought doesn’t stray too far because you’re back to answer him in a heartbeat. “I wanna go where the sun never sets. I wanna go to the Land of the Midnight Sun.”

Namjoon chuckles at your reply because it’s such a you response. You hate the night, you hate the darkness. “Alright,” he says as your hand reaches out to brush away the last of his remaining tears. “We’ll go there,” he promises with a kiss pressed to the tip of your nose. “When my brother returns, I’ll take you there.”

“The day of the incident, I watched him with my very own eyes as life slipped away from him. His eyes were lifeless, dead, a corpse. In the same way I killed my mother and father, I killed your brother as well. The man who cared so much for me died at my very own hands. His death was all..my...fault.”

“Joon!” He hears his brother’s voice in the back of his mind.

“Joon!” He hears your voice in the far, distant memories.

Dead.

They’re both dead.

The brother whom he loved more than anything in this world.

The woman who once held light to his world.

You stand before him without an ounce of emotion on your face, eyes as dead as the night you held onto Seokjin, crying out two single words uttered in a soft, soft whisper.

“Save me,” you said before falling lifeless right before their eyes.

His hands tremble by his side, fingers crawling into a fist, and he knows, he knows he shouldn’t harm you in any way, not after what you’d gone through in London, not after what Leehyung had done to you. He knows, he knows, and yet the rage and anger, the disappointment and hurt he feels overtakes his control and he lunges right at you in a blinding rage.

You killed his brother.

The first man who loved him without an ounce of hatred in his heart, the first man to accept him and welcome him into this world.

You killed his brother.

878 notes · View notes

torarot · 2 years

Text

softcore. | sero hanta.

synopsis. simply put, sero's tired of seeing you unsatisfied.

wc. 2.7k

cw. dark content. stepcest. pro hero!sero. fem!reader. infidelity. voyeurism. spit kink. masturbation. multiple orgasms. somehow i made stepcest kinda sensual idk.

commission. for @yourlovemaze

a/n. thank u for comming me bestie </3 hate 2 see u go so here's a very long parting gift :( also i am ,,, sorry :D anyways godspeed n good luck! <33 i have not seen mha in ForEver and this is lowkey highkey my first time writing sero so ,,, this was A Task but a fun one! enjoyed writing this v much mwuah mwuah enjoy!

disclaimer. all characters are aged up to at least 25 years of age. as such, 18+, minors do not interact. my blog is 20+ so please don’t follow me if you’re not 20 or older. thank you!

Sero’s unsurprised when he hears the low buzz flicker on after your boyfriend leaves. It’s a little funny, almost, and sometimes he silently makes bets in his head to see how long it takes. Sometimes it takes a few seconds, other times a few minutes, but if there was one thing that was sure, it was that buzzing would slip from the cracks beneath your bedroom door after your boyfriend left. In a way, Sero felt sorry for you. Then again, what did you expect?

There’s no way someone like Tamaki could do much to please you.

He takes his time padding over to your bedroom, hands tucked away in his pockets. He’s memorized your routine by now. It doesn’t take long after you start. Two, maybe three minutes before those soft moans billow from your lips in a way Tamaki never pulled from you. They’re a lot sweeter when you’re alone, less punchy and robotic. The moans that mix with the creaking of your bed remind him of those painfully staged porn videos that got him off in his teens. Sero’s long since left his teens, and his tastes have changed. Now he’s much more enthralled with the authentic, and luckily, he’s able to get his fill every time you’re left unsatisfied by your lover.

It’s a little sick in retrospect, but Sero never claimed himself to be a good guy outside of heroism. Parts of him are just as depraved as the people he wrestled behind bars and into quirk restraints, he’s just a lot better at hiding them. Like wanting to fuck his stepsister, for example. That was a secret only he knew.

He leans against your doorway carefully. You’re a lot hastier this time than usual, and there’s a tinge of desperation that leaks into your voice as the buzzing gets louder. You’ve turned up the speed, he figures, and he doesn’t blame you. Tamaki finished himself off a lot quicker than usual and had to run to patrol afterwards, leaving you to deal with yourself. Again. Poor you, left to clean up his pitiful mess inside you, stuck with a boyfriend who couldn’t make you cum. Sero chuckles softly to himself, careful not to make too much noise so you didn’t hear him at the door. Not like you could, anyway, since you were too caught up in what you were doing to pay much attention to your surroundings.

“Fuck,” You breathe out and his eyes flutter shut. “Fuck, fuck! Oh sh-” You cut yourself off and Sero can picture you. The way your eyebrows furrow, the way your lashes coat over wet and dark, how your cheeks bloat and burn while you hold that pretty purple vibrator to your needy clit. A grin slips onto his face, his own bottom lip curling between pearly teeth, and he finds himself teasing the waistband of his sweats, cock jumping slightly for friction. You definitely aren’t helping, increasing need becoming more apparent by the second until your moans break off into silent cries at each end and he can almost see the way your mascara smudges and mixes with angry, frustrated tears at the corners of your eyes.

The things he’d do to see that face in person were downright villainous, but he’d wager jail if that meant he could spend a day wrapped up inside you.

He leaves your doorway moments later, figuring it best not to get himself off right then and there. He’d rather savor the thought for later, way later when your shared apartment was overcast by the shroud of night and he could lie in bed for as long as he wanted, no threat of disruption, and tease his cock at the thought of you making those noises for him. Or maybe even some better ones. Would you writhe and whimper while he drilled his cock into you or would you arch and cry, claw at his skin and demand for more? He’d be more than okay with either option, or both, so long as it’s for him. Didn’t Tamaki realize what the hell he had right in front of him?

Ten minutes later (far too quickly for you to reach any substantial satisfaction, Sero thinks) and your bedroom door creaks open. He hears you wince in irritation at the sound, and silently you pad your way out into the living room. Sero’s waiting, idly flipping through the channels on the TV with his mind very much elsewhere, only returning back to earth when he catches sight of your figure peeking from the hallway. You make eye contact and he sees the way your eyes widen if only a bit, flash of fear flickering through your irises before being masked by a blink. You were probably concerned, thinking he’d heard what transpired- be it the awful sex or the way you embarrassingly had to finish yourself off afterwards or both. For your sake though, Sero figured he’d choose to not bring it up.

“Hey, Hanta.” You breathe and his eyebrow twitches upwards. There’s still that soft rasp in your tone that indicates you coming down from something euphoric, just traces of the ghost of a high you reached a few minutes prior. He tilts his chin upwards and makes a small hum of acknowledgement. “When- when did you get home?”

“A while ago.” He answers vaguely, in part just to see the fear wash through you again. “I finished patrol early today.”

“O-oh, really?” You stutter, turning on your heel to pad off to the kitchen. The way your shoulders square and turn rigid tells him you’re weary, and with your gaze off him he doesn’t try to hide the smirk that pulls itself onto his cherry-chapstick covered lips. “Anything interesting happen?”

“On patrol? Nah.” He sighs nonchalantly. “Morning shifts are pretty uneventful on the weekdays. I was kind of happy to come home early.” Then, Sero decides that maybe he wants to fuck with you a little. Just a little.

“Your boyfriend been here?”

There’s a clatter from the kitchen, a cup that drops in the sink. He holds back a snort as you stutter out, “My- my what?”

“Your boyfriend.” He repeats, turning the channel. “Tamaki. Thought I saw his car pulling out when I came in.”

“N-no, he wasn’t- shit-” There’s more clattering followed by frantic movements to clean whatever it was up. “He wasn’t he-”

There’s a pause as it clicks. It registers slowly, but the worry that laces your tone has Sero biting his bottom lip in anticipation.

“You came in after he left?”

He grins, hearing you slowly exit the kitchen. “Yep.” Curse his nonchalance, you swallow, and he doesn’t need to look at you to see the haphazard way you glance at him.

“So you heard…” Your hands come up to grasp your arms to ground you. He offers you no solace, turning to look at you with an amused look on his face.

“Heard what?” He begins, but doesn’t allow your lips to part for long, far too enthralled with the thought of the dodgy expression melting into embarrassment. “Heard you trying to get yourself off? Yeah, I heard that.”

Fuck.

The way your eyes widen makes him shiver inwardly. You were just so- fuck. “What’s the matter, hm?” There’s feign concern on his face as he cocks his head to the side, tone lightly mocking in the worst way. “Your boyfriend not enough for you?”

Your cheeks burn as your nails dig into your skin, expression marked horrified but you couldn’t look away if you tried. “I- I- Hanta-”

“You need someone to fuck you proper, don’t you?”

Sero half expects you to balk at his forwardness as the tension in the room thickens almost unbearably. He’s sure you can feel his intentions creeping, he’s sure your little mind has pieced together the gravity of the situation, but what catches him off guard is the way your thighs press together. There’s a look in your eye that creeps in and matches the one he displays proudly, one you’re much more ashamed of, but you’re not exactly trying to hide it all the same.

If only he knew just how much you really needed that. Needed him, in particular.

“Hanta,” you swallow as he stands. He stretches taller than you, a mass of lanky limbs and toned muscle that saunters to you. You want to shrink in front of him, in fact you should, but your heels ground you even though you shake your head. “We- we can’t-”

“It’ll be between us.” He says, and curse him, it’s in that chocolatey tone that you only ever hear when he’s talking teasing someone over the phone. It makes your toes curl, heart hammering against your rib cage and you do all you can to keep your weak knees steady as he stands in front of you. The scent of his cologne hits you, a mix of pine and mint that smells so him it makes your eyes inwardly roll. “I’m just trying to help my sister out with a problem, after all. Isn’t that what brothers are for?”

Yes, you think to say. Except that logic applies to when problems are tangibly in their realm to help with. Like getting you out of a sticky situation or helping you build a desk. Not helping with the throbbing between your legs. But it wasn’t like you had much resolve left in you to say no, and it wasn’t like you wanted to.

“Hanta, please,” You breathe and you’re unsure of what you’re begging for. Was it for mercy? Likely. You needed relief, be it from his suffocating presence that made your mind go blank or that tightly coiled not seeded deep in the root of your stomach that desperately needed to be wound out. He’s close now, close enough to where you can smell the minty toothpaste still fresh on his mouth and you can nearly count the lashes sprouting from his waterline.

“Say the word, sweetheart.” It’s low and husky in your ear accompanied by an explorative hand that dances on your sides. “Say the word and I’ll give you what you need. Right here, right now.”

It was that easy. It was too easy, and things that come too easily always have a price attached. For this one it would be the guilt of cheating on your boyfriend, and the complications that came with fucking around with your stepbrother. Was that risk worth the reward presented to you?

“Oh God, oh my God, Hanta! Hanta!”

Apparently so.

Sero was divine. He’s an experience like none other, and far different than what you were normally used to. He was so attentive, so caring and somewhat uncaring at the same time. He looked at you with the same crooked smile and lidded eyes he always did but this time his lips were covered in a mixture of your slick and his spit, and his eyes were filled with intense lust that rivaled most of everything you’d ever experienced. His hands worked you to a high quicker than you thought imaginable, quicker than that stupid toy you bought from the local drugstore, and much more pleasurable than you even expected. The way his index and middle fingers pinched and rolled around your clit had your back arching off of the bed, pretty tits pushing up into his chest, lips quivering and eyes fluttering while his low voice remained steady in your ear telling you to,

“Relax, I got you. There you go, doing so fuckin’ good for me, princess.”

One hand holds your wrists firm in place above your head and he coaxes your hips down to relax, your thighs quivering from the aftershocks of what would be your fourth high of the afternoon. He enjoys it, revels in it, the way you shake and moan and beg with your body and breath for more, more, more, more of which he’s more than eager to give you. He guides your legs open as the other hand moves up to your lips, drunken eyes watching the way your mouth parts open and you take him on your tongue without second thought.

“Good girl.” He praises, rocking his hips up against you, hardened cock running slick between your folds and nudging against your clit. He hooks his fingers in and gently wrenches your mouth open, wide enough for him to lean down, lips pursed, clear glob of spit falling from between his lips onto the flat of your tongue. He doesn’t even need to tell you to swallow it, your mouth closing automatically, eyes fluttering back at the taste. “Good fuckin’ girl, you know what to do for me.”

The moment his tip breaches past the first ring of your cunt Sero feels as if he’s slipped into his wasteland and his heaven. You’re- “Tight,” he gasps out in shock, looking down to watch the way you split open for him. “Fuck, you’re tight.”

“Hanta,” you mewl, hands jerking beneath the grip he has on your wrists. “You’re so big, ‘s so big!”

“You can take it.” He grits out, fucking his tip into you slowly. His cock is fat, he knows it, but moreso than fat, it’s long. Long enough to have your toes curling and eyes rolling around when he’s midway in, your heels pressing into his back when he sinks in even deeper. “‘S s’much!” You cry, but your hips roll down in tune with his, eager to suck as much of him in as possible until he finally bottoms out.

Your mewls sound even sweeter when you cum around him. He can feel you, the way your pussy desperately tries to milk itself, and he bares you mercy when he releases your wrists to allow you to claw onto him the way you want to. His thrusts never cease, slowing down only to let you catch your breath before he’s pushing your legs open, whispering encouragement in your ear, telling you just how he’s going to fuck you. “Making you feel good, huh?” He goads and you keen, bleary eyes unfocused as your nails sink into his skin. “Know I am, you’re cummin’ so much f’me. You needed me, didn’t you?”

“I did, I did!” You wail and he chuckles, hot breath on your ear as his teeth scrape lightly against your earlobe. He’s not sure if he can last much longer but he’s not sure if he can bring himself to pull out of you either. “Feels fuckin’ amazing, sweetheart.” He curses, pressing a sloppy kiss to the side of your neck. “I don’t wanna pull outta you.”

“Don’t.” You breathe, and if he didn’t hear you well enough, the way your legs latch around him and your pussy clenches told him instead. “Don’t, I-I wanna feel it. I want it, want it.”

“Yeah?” He swallows, his heart beating fast. “Want my cum inside your pussy? Tamaki’s not enough for you?”

“No!” You all but cry out, mind too fucked out to allow you the decency to think first. “He’s not, he can’t! Can’t fuck me like you, can’t make me feel good, he can’t, he can’t, he can’t!”

“Fuck!” Sero’s eyes flutter. He wonders if you can hear yourself, or better yet, if he can hear your phone ringing on the bedside table beside you. He takes a quick glance, though he doesn’t need to. It’s Tamaki, coincidentally, and the thought of fucking his girl dead stupid makes his jaw clench in ecstasy, heat coursing through him faster than he’d like. “Greedy fuckin’ thing, you better take all of it.”

“I will! Please, just, please-” You gasp, Sero’s eyes boring into you as his thrusts turn heavy. The squelching that fills the air is obscene as it mixes with the heavy slaps of skin against skin, his lip quivering, brushing against yours as he stills suddenly. His cock throbs inside you and a low groan rumbles in the base of his throat, pants exchanged between the both of you as your pussy eagerly swallows his thick, sticky seed.

“Tell him, then.” Sero demands, and through your foggy mind the sound of the familiar ringtone registers. Your heart beats against your chest, tits brushing against Sero’s, eyes widened in disbelief. He couldn’t be serious, could he? But the look in your older step-brother’s eyes was dead serious, and more worryingly, you found yourself liking it.

“Tell him his pussy’s mine now.”

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