Haven-Cove

Haven, 25, she/her Carat Writers Club NSFW • MDNI

[haven-cove]

✨ Haven’s Masterlist ✨

✧༺♥༻∞ ʕ ˵• ᴥ •˵ ʔ ∞༺♥༻✧ 

SEVENTEEN

OT13

Prompt 1 List Masterlist here

Mingyu

01:14

✧༺♥༻∞ ʕ ˵• ᴥ •˵ ʔ ∞༺♥༻✧

ATEEZ

Yunho

Prompt 1

Yeosang

Prompt 1

San

For All That Is To Come

Mingi

Prompt 1

Wooyoung

Prompt 1

Jongho

Prompt 1

✧༺♥༻∞ ʕ ˵• ᴥ •˵ ʔ ∞༺♥༻✧

Wallpapers

Seokmin + Seungkwan

Joshua + Seokmin

Joshua

✧༺♥༻∞ ʕ ˵• ᴥ •˵ ʔ ∞༺♥༻✧

Haven Reads 

[lisired]

honeymoon avenue

pairing: jaehyun x (f) reader

genre/warnings: smut, a pinch of angst, fluff, stuck in an elevator with your ex-fiancé, exes to lovers, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving)

summary: A year ago, wedding bells were ringing and you were screaming, “Yes!” at the top of your lungs. Last Christmas, you were supposed to be wed under a mistletoe. This Christmas, company finds you in the form of your ex-fiancé that broke off your engagement after you’re both inconveniently trapped in an elevator.

word count: 12.3k (complete opposite of a slow burn)

a/n: inspired by honeymoon avenue and my everything by ariana grande, undo (back to my heart) by tinashe, and ice queen by baekhyun. ‘tis the season! (it was xmas when this was originally posted lol). as always, feedback is appreciated!

Last year around this time, you had arranged to be wed. You recalled restlessly counting down the days until your lover would meet his lips to yours in front of all of your friends and family once granted the greenlight to kiss the bride. 

You had everything planned down to a “T.” The banquet hall would be emerald and burgundy. There would be an arch above you where a mistletoe would hang. The wedding cake would have Jaehyun’s surname. And everyone’s attire would be formal, though seasonal. 

It was supposed to be the best day of your life. 

A winter wonderland wedding seemed like an apt choice for you. You were so, so cold, but there was still an air of warmth to you. Now, your heart was unthawed. 

This Christmas - much like the last - you would be alone. 

It stung knowing you would be lonely for the second Christmas in a row and there was nobody at fault but yourself. You were miffed at your own behavior, but gave yourself no time to dwell on the past, doing what you knew how to do best - work until your brain went numb.

There was plenty on the roster today. A corporate meeting, phone calls to answer, and reports that wouldn’t type themselves. And that was to be brief. Speaking of which, you needed to brief employees about new protocols.

“Come on, come on, come on,” you chanted impatiently to yourself, tapping your foot against the floor. The elevators in your apartment were running later than usual today.

You heaved a breath of relief when the doors chimed open. Out went a group of people and in went you. Maneuvering your body to press the first floor button, you came to a halt when you noticed it was already selected and gleaming. 

That was when you finally noticed the man in the elevator - the only other person there with you - glancing down at his phone. You leaned against the railing and shifted your attention to the door nonchalantly, writing off the stranger as the very least of your concerns. Getting to work on time was paramount. 

As it always was.

Morning traffic is going to be brutal, you thought with a grimace. Every thought in your head revolved around work and how long it would take you to get there.

It would seem you would have no time for your morning coffee run. You remembered those times when you’d stay the night at Jaehyun’s, waking to a hot cup of coffee that he’d made just the way you liked it waiting for you.

Four words would permanently be etched into your memory. Have a good life.

With some disdain, you bade the thought retreat. Jaehyun was no longer a part of your life and you doubted he would want to be ever again. Not that you blamed him. It was your punishment alone. 

The elevator gave a jolt and you gripped the elevator for dear life, screeching, “What the…?”

The floor indicator donned the number one in a big, bold shade of red, though ironically, the door gave not an inch. Which was odd. You pressed the button that ostensibly opened the door in these types of situations, but to no avail. 

“Are we stuck?”

Your head snapped behind you and you nearly broke into a cold sweat when you noticed that the man lone in the elevator with you was no other than your ex-fiancé. 

Living in the same apartment complex as the man you were once fated to marry was no easy feat, but the multiple years of seeing each other made it simpler to avoid him. For one, you knew one another’s routines and thus what time to be out the door either before or after the other. 

That said, you had seen Jaehyun a couple of weeks ago, but the last time you’d spoken was when he returned all of your things from his apartment. Have a good life. Those were the last words he’d exchanged with you. 

That had been approximately a year ago, a couple of weeks before Christmas and the day you were supposed to say, I do.

“Appears that way,” you replied, clearing your throat. 

Jaehyun had his phone in his pockets now. You held your breath as you gave him a once-over. He was still handsome as ever, though that was to be expected. As far as you were concerned, he looked more or less the same as the last time you’d spoken, only his hair was a little lengthier. He still looked rather displeased to see you. 

And he was wearing a suit. Which meant he was most likely also trying to go to work. 

You frowned. Now you were thinking about Jaehyun in suits. Needless to say, that was a sore spot. 

A voice came over a speaker and you recognized it as Yangyang’s, one of the apartment staff. He spoke like he was reading from a textbook, “Passengers, do not be alarmed. Our technical team will be arriving shortly to repair the service. We apologize for the inconvenience.”

You mused aloud, “Can he hear us?”

“Loud and clear,” Yangyang chirped. 

“How long will it be before someone can help us?” you asked, never keen on being late. 

“I can’t say, ma’am. Anywhere from fifteen minutes and a couple of hours.”

You interjected to screech, “A couple of hours?”

Jaehyun clamped a soothing palm on your shoulder to calm you down. It was almost embarrassing how effortlessly his touch could ease you even a year after he broke off your engagement.

Yangyang explained in his usual exuberant tone, “The weather and usual early traffic may cause a delay, ma’am. They will be arriving as swiftly as possible and servicing is already underway by our maintenance staff.”

“Thank you, Yangyang,” Jaehyun said, smoothing his palm down your back. 

“Have a nice day, Mr. Jung. You too, ma’am.”

You heaved a breath. “So, it looks like we’re going to be here a while.” 

“Hopefully not that long,” Jaehyun said, recouping his hand. 

Though it stung, you understood. It went without saying that being trapped in an elevator with the ex that abandoned him was not part of today’s plan. He may have called off the engagement, but you were the one that left him high and dry. 

You broke his heart. Not only that, you stole his future. Everything he ever dreamed of, a wife and children, was thrown out the window because of your selfishness. 

Jaehyun recognized you would both be stuck together for a while and rather than sit in awkward silence, he asked, “How’s life?”

Darn him. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get the last words he had said to you out of your head. Have a good life. 

The breakup was bitter and stone-cold. Jaehyun made a couple of things unmistakably clear with those four words alone. For one, he was cutting you out of his life for good. And he no longer desired to be imprisoned within yours, being punished for no good reason at all. 

And you never fought him - never fought to win him over. Maybe because you had already known for some time that your engagement was in danger. It was beyond reclaim. Irrevocably damaged. 

Never one to appear weak, you said, “Good. Really good. I was promoted to secretary.”

Jaehyun perked up. You got what you wanted. But did I deserve to be the sacrifice, baby? Was it worth it? 

“Still a workaholic I see.”

You frowned. “Old habits die hard. How have you been?”

“I can’t complain,” Jaehyun said. “I wasn’t promoted or anything, but everything’s been pretty good over here.”

You had no doubts. Jaehyun was an editor and his line of work gave him plenty of leeway. For the most part, he worked from home, though there were instances where he came into the workplace. At least, when you last spoke, that is. 

“That’s amazing. I’m happy for you,” you said, willing yourself to smile. A part of you was strangely bitter. It didn’t want to see him happy without you. 

Though you no longer followed each other, Jaehyun still popped up on your Instagram homepage every now and then. And perhaps you’d searched his page more times than you cared to admit. Everything about his page was achingly sentimental and reminiscent of your past together. 

Pictures of him at museums or bridges at nighttime or parks with his hair whipping through the breeze. Once upon a time, you were the one taking those pictures of him. Now, you wondered who was behind the camera, living the life you’d carelessly given away. 

“Thanks,” was all he willed himself to reply. 

Your eyes instinctively fell to your watch and your head fell back as you groaned, “God, I’m going to be late for work.”

Jaehyun fought a snort. “Yeah, me too. At least there’s still some good news.” 

“Like what?”

“It’s warm in here,” Jaehyun commented lightheartedly. 

You chuckled. What a way to relieve the tension. Though Jaehyun never failed to make you laugh with ease. Except for when you broke up. Nothing was funny then.

Those weeks leading to the breakup may have been worse than the day it actually happened altogether. The feeling of knowing something was inevitably bound to happen yet being unable to prevent it was arguably worse than the emptiness you felt when Jaehyun announced he no longer wanted anything to do with you. 

Emptiness numbed you to the pain for a couple of days. You couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. All you could feel was a bitter, nipping cold enveloping you, eventually splitting you right down the middle. 

Jaehyun subtly eyed you as you typed a message to your boss, warning him that you may have been late for work and telling him to proceed without you. Maybe some things never changed. You were still gorgeous, that was for sure. But you were also still married to your work. Ultimately, that would always prove to be your downfall. 

It seemed like only yesterday you were his. He was planning to meet you at the altar, itching to sweep you into his arms and kiss you the moment you were pronounced husband and wife. 

You had always been a workaholic. At one point, Jaehyun loved it about you. He never thought your relationship would be foredoomed because of it. Devoted and loyal were two terms that described you strongly. 

Although, maybe you had been too devoted to the wrong thing.

Your broken engagement was a prime example of what happened when you applied too much pressure to one thing and neglected the other. It was the wretched result of not finding balance. 

Everything you ever hoped and dreamed of flashed before your eyes. Once upon a time, you were both making plans to move into a house together. You wanted a pet. And you were thinking about children. 

Now, you were all alone. And you had never felt colder. 

For some reason, the absurdity of your predicament hit you merely moments after you sent the text message. It just didn’t seem probable to be trapped in an elevator with your ex-fiancé. Much less alone. You threw your head back and whined, “I mean, what are the odds.”

Jaehyun pitched you a confused glance. 

You winded a hand through your hair and elaborated, “Us being stuck in the exact same elevator and forcing ourselves to pretend we don’t mind. If I remember correctly, you had no intention of hearing from me again.”

“I think we should spare each other the awkwardness,” Jaehyun replied, donning an impassive expression. And tone. 

You bit your lip. Maybe you shouldn’t have said anything. Jaehyun being kind to you should not have been mistaken and was probably more or less because he wanted to avoid as much tension as possible - not because he didn’t hate you. 

Jaehyun spoke up again to ask, “How long have we been here?”

You glanced at your phone and read the time. “About fifteen minutes, I guess.”

“So, we’re going to be here for a couple of hours,” Jaehyun quipped, trying to lighten the mood the best way he knew how. 

You winced, hoping there was an in between. “Not like I had anything else to do,” you mumbled. 

Jaehyun himself wasn’t exactly bummed about missing a day, or at least a couple of hours. Though this was you. He used to joke that hell would freeze over the moment you decided to actually take a day off. “They will survive without you for a while,” he comforted softly. 

You scoffed. You were carrying that company on your back. “I’m afraid that’s where you’re wrong. The whole building will be in flames if I’m not there within an hour tops.”

“I’m sure,” Jaehyun scoffed. “I’ve never seen anyone work as hard as you do.”

I have, you thought wistfully. Jaehyun fought harder for your relationship than you ever tried, but enough was enough. He was at his limit, giving more than he was receiving and he couldn’t let you take advantage of him anymore. 

Though it was intended to be a compliment, for whatever reason, your heartache was only amplified. You swiftly changed the subject. “So, what are your plans for the holidays?”

He shrugged. “Nothing special. I’m going to spend some time with my family.”

That caught your attention. “You haven’t been seeing anyone?”

Jaehyun only shook his head. He was afraid of opening his mouth and saying something that would make shit awkward again. For all he knew, you two would both be stuck together for potentially the next couple of hours and he did not want to spend it in suffocating silence.

Unfortunately, Jaehyun couldn’t deny that after your engagement was broken off, finding other girls had been hard. They came a dime a dozen, but none of them remained. Even after you were long gone, bits of you lingered, scattered everywhere across his life.

Jaehyun went to bed and thought of nights spent cuddling you to sleep. He visited his favorite cafe and thought of your go-to order. Jaehyun hooked up with other girls and thought of how beautiful you looked writhing underneath him, your voice calling out his name in a cry, dripping with sweet honey. 

Though you were forever gone, the memories of you still haunted him everyday. For so long, he had been convinced he was made for you. You were the only woman he ever wanted. 

And he couldn’t have you. 

Jaehyun commanded the thoughts to go away. You stopped being his long before the breakup. “You?”

“Oh, you know. With my line of work, I just don’t have the time,” you replied bashfully. 

That Jaehyun knew all too well. Just a little. 

He bobbed his head. “Sounds like you.” 

Guilt suddenly plagued your chest. Every second beside him you were reminded of the fact that you were the one who ruined a beautiful thing. You had gotten what you strived for, though in hindsight, the lengths you went to get it were brutal and cold-hearted. 

You had sacrificed so much of yourself to get to where you were. And now that you were standing at the top, you could finally see the collateral damage you’d inflicted at the bottom. 

There was only a good couple of feet to separate you and Jaehyun. And you absolutely loathed it. There was more distance between you when he uttered those four words permanently etched into your memory, before turning and heading out of your front door. 

Jaehyun fancied it no more than you did. Walking away had been hard. He looked back, but never stopped. A year ago, he was convinced that he would have moved on by now. But no matter how far apart you were, his heart was still one of your captives. Not only did he leave a piece of it with you, but the whole damn thing. 

He wanted it back. Damn it, he wanted you back. He wanted back every piece of himself he gave you, but above all else, he wanted back what you had. To go back to the way everything was the day he got down on one knee and asked for permission to hold your heart forever. 

He remembered like it was yesterday. Earlier that spring, he took you to a bridge. Not only was it one of your favorite spots in the city, but it was where you both first said I love you. 

Maybe that was why. Now, you couldn’t bring yourself to visit it anymore. The memories were too painful. 

Just like the first time he took you there, night had fallen. The bridge overlooked a river, moonlight cast into the water. Purple lights made the trail glimmer. But the moon was a little fuller, the air a little cooler. 

Not that either of you minded. To be with you, he was content. 

You were beaming. Even before he proposed. None of you could stop thinking about the night you first said that you loved each other. But when Jaehyun asked you to marry him underneath the moonlight, you were over the moon. 

You were chanting, Yes! Jaehyun had to sweep you into his arms and meet his lips to yours to cut you off. A very long time ago, the memory made him smile. Now, it made his heart swell with agony. 

His eyes were sad. And understandably a little angry. Even after all these years, you could still read him clear as day. You wondered if he could read you, too. You whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Jaehyun heaved a deep breath. An apology wouldn’t fix his broken heart and saying you were sorry wouldn’t undo the heartache you inflicted on him. It wasn’t okay. He hated you for leaving him lonely. For choosing your job over a future together. He would never forgive you for it. “I never wanted much. I never wanted all of your time. Only a little was all I was asking for.”

“I don’t want to go there with you, Jaehyun,” you said, exhaling a sigh of your own. 

All Jaehyun did was shake his head and murmur under his breath, “Classic.” 

A part of you bristled. Why Jaehyun always wanted to hash things out with you was a mystery. Fighting was draining and you never had the energy. A long day of work left you with only enough strength to take a long hot shower before crawling into bed. 

Not Jaehyun. He would never understand. The pressure to succeed, the struggle to unlearn the definition of success you were taught even before your adolescence. 

A year ago, everything was falling apart in your relationship. You were arguing more, spending time together less. Jaehyun was trying to salvage what was left. In his mind, fighting with you was better than not speaking to you at all.

Most of your memories with him were unforgettable, but when they were bad, they were excruciating to think of. You could still remember the last argument before the uncoupling. 

December was still fresh and the air was frigid, numbing your senses until you stepped into your warm apartment. Jaehyun was waiting for you there. A smile tugged your lips when you hung your coat and excitedly bounced into the kitchen, smelling hot chocolate. 

“Baby, I’m home,” you sang radiantly. At one point, it used to be your favorite line to say. A lifetime of obsessing over movie cliches was to blame. 

Jaehyun locked eyes with you and simpered. You looked nothing less than exhausted, though he found it cute on you. “Hey, my love. How was your day?”

You instantly groaned, “I’d rather not talk about it. Or think about it, for that matter.”

“Will a cup of hot cocoa make it better?”

You propped yourself on the island and flirted, “Made by Barista Jaehyun himself? Of course.”

Jaehyun handed you a mug and you accepted it gracious, muttering, “thank you.” He was the sweetest thing you could ask for. Even sweeter than the hot cocoa warming your palms. 

That was how the arguments always began. They were sweet, innocent moments - until they weren’t. 

Your lover dipped behind the island and returned with a mug of his own, still steaming with freshly hot cocoa. You thought absolutely nothing of it. Not until he opened his mouth. “How does a date night on Friday sound?”

You frowned. “This Friday?”

“Well, yeah,” Jaehyun said, rubbing his nape. “It’s been a while, you know. Since we’ve gone out on a date.”

That was true. Jaehyun always had some extra time to spare. He wanted to spoil and indulge you at every given chance. But you were always busy. Even when you were off the clock, you were still on the clock. And more often than not, you brought work back home with you. 

“I’m so busy and so tired, Jay,” you whispered gently. God knew you wanted to, but you didn’t have the time and much less the energy. 

“I get that,” Jaehyun started. “But can’t you take even a day off?”

“I’m aiming for a promotion, Jaehyun. I have to prove myself. My boss has been dangling this shit in our faces for the past few months. I can’t let an opportunity like that slip away.” 

Jaehyun was rapidly getting frustrated and reminded, “You do realize we’re getting married in a few weeks, right?” 

Your eyes flickered. “Yes, I do. And I plan to be there.”

“At the rate you’re going, I wouldn’t be surprised if you stood me up.”

Your heart sank. “How can you say that?” 

“How couldn’t I?” Jaehyun snapped, evidently pained. “We’ve been engaged for the past nine months, but it doesn’t feel like I’m about to get married. It feels like I’m losing you because you’re too absorbed in your goddamn job.”

“Are you asking me to choose you over my job?” you asked, standing to your feet. This entire argument was an affront to your pride. 

“No. There is no point in giving you an ultimatum when I already know that you will choose your job every time without hesitation - you already do. I’m asking you to make room for me, but I can’t force you to do anything you don’t want to.”

You countered, “I do want you.”

“Do you?” Jaehyun snapped, skeptical. “You can’t even go on a date with me. You want a promotion more than anything else.”

You sighed, “I don’t want to fight, Jay.” 

“I know that. You don’t want to fight for anything,” Jaehyun said bitterly. “You would rather watch us burn to ash than fight for us.” 

Anger plagued you and you were prepared to hurl something back, but he didn’t give you the chance. 

Jaehyun added, “I don’t like the person this job has made you become. I want the woman I proposed to back, and I’m scared she’s not there anymore.”

Your words were cold as ice, “Then, leave.” 

And the rest was history. 

There was nothing you could say when Jaehyun left you, no fight for you to give. It was you that sent him away. It was you that made him leave. He had only given you what you asked for. 

Old habits died hard. The one-year anniversary of both the breakup and the day you were supposed to be married was rapidly approaching and to distract yourself from the pain, you were burying yourself in work. You didn’t want to think about Jaehyun and what you almost had. Not even for a second. And then, today came and ruined everything. 

Now, you were being forced to confront the past. 

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. You’re stronger than this. God, you wanted to be anywhere but here right now. Tears burned your eyes, but you would never let them fall. Not with Jaehyun there. You didn’t want him to see the mess he’d left of you - how miserable you were without him. 

You wanted to mend everything back together, but it was too late. Everything was irreparably broken. You had the opportunity to patch things up, and you passed it up. No more time could be wasted crying for the moon. 

And still, somewhere deep inside, you knew Jaehyun would steal it for you. 

Jaehyun saw your eyes and softened a little. Damn it, they still made him weak. Your tears were made of diamonds and they were priceless. Jaehyun said, “My mother still talks about you, you know. She asks me when we’re going to get back together.”

Your eyes flickered. “That’s… interesting,” you lied. “I thought she would hate me. And be more protective of her baby.” Because I broke your heart. 

“You know my mother always loved you,” Jaehyun chuckled fondly. “I don’t think anyone believed in us more than her - not even ourselves.”

Somebody had to, you thought weakly. Though Jachyun was a romantic to his core, even he had to eventually throw in the towel.

Everyone thought you and Jaehyun would be the perfect match. Each of your families were anticipating a beautiful wintry nuptial ceremony on Christmas day. And when news of the uncoupling broke loose, your people weren't exactly shocked, but they were heavily disappointed.

You were clearly the problem. Until you learned how to balance, you would never be happy in love. Up until now, you were beginning to become content with that fate.

Though now, your heart was greedy.

Jaehyun’s mother crossed your mind. She was the epitome of an angel and the fact that she still wanted you in her son’s life after all the pain you caused him was deafening. But what about what Jaehyun wanted? Does he even still love me?

Every moment spent with his mother had been wonderful. She spoke fondly of him and vice versa and supported him unconditionally. It was true motherly love and it made your chest stiffen, taut with envy. Ever since you were a kid, you only knew pressure. Your parents wanted you to have the life they didn’t when they were your age, but they were very strict in how they went about it. 

Tough love was all you received. They didn’t help you through trying times. You were expected to suck it up. You were taught that tears were a sign of vulnerability and vulnerability was weakness. 

You fought them back with everything you had and said, “How does she know I wouldn’t mess things up again?”

“I don’t know,” Jaehyun told you, not disputing the fact that you had essentially destroyed everything. It stung, but it was the truth. “She says ‘a mother knows best.’”

Jaehyun watched you struggle to hold yourself together. You were good at pretending to be okay and smiling through your pain, but he was even better at seeing through you. He saw you through a lens that only a man who loved you with his whole mind, body, and soul for years could see. He saw all your weaknesses, all your flaws. But he never judged and he saw something else in them, too. What made you beautiful. 

“But what do you want?” It was killing you. For as long as you stood there, you needed to know. 

“I wanted you,” Jaehyun replied honestly. “But you wouldn’t let me have you.” 

You shook your head. “You had me. Every piece of me - it belonged to you.” 

“That’s not how I remember it,” Jaehyun muttered. “You had my heart, but your work had yours.”

“That’s not true.” 

Jaehyun was firm. “It is and you know it.” 

“I loved you,” you told him softly. 

“Well, you sure had a funny way of showing it.”

You gripped the railing to anchor yourself. It didn’t move, but you could feel yourself slipping into weakness. “I don’t know how to stop, Jaehyun. I think it’s a part of me now. It’s hard to stop doing something you’ve done your whole life.”

I don’t like the person this job has made you become. I want the woman I proposed to back, and I’m scared she’s not there anymore.

Maybe he was right. Maybe that woman was long gone. 

A cloud of melancholy came over you, pouring over you and Jaehyun. He told you somberly, “I could have helped you if you would have let me in. But you were pushing me away.” 

“I know,” you said, meeting his dark eyes. “But I wish I would have known back then. I never realized I was breaking us apart. Not until it was too late. I thought I was doing what was best…”

Jaehyun finished darkly, “You were doing what was best for yourself. Not for us.” 

You opened your mouth to defend yourself, but quickly accepted he was right and instead said, “I was wrong. I was selfish. I wasn’t considering how any of it made you feel and that’s a decision I have to live with now.” 

“Do you regret it?” I need to know if my broken heart was worthwhile.

Your eyes burned. “Every day of my life.” 

“Why?” Jaehyun questioned, voice barely above a whisper. “You got the promotion. Isn’t that what you wanted?” 

“I thought it was,” you muttered. Your chest was swelling with self-disgust and agony and anger. Not at Jaehyun, but at yourself. “But when I lost you, I realized that everything I needed was already right there. Until it wasn’t.” 

Jaehyun was quiet but pensive. As if he was trying to trace exactly where everything started going wrong. 

Even in school, you were devoted. You were the valedictorian of your class. Jaehyun used to steal you away to kiss you behind the bleachers. But you would always be there for his basketball games, cheering him on better than any cheerleader. 

High school sweethearts, he thought wistfully. In high school, you won prom king and queen. Everyone thought you would last forever. That only God himself could part you.

How beautiful it was to be young, dumb, and in love. 

Jaehyun knew your issues stemmed from your childhood. When you were still in high school, sometimes you had to blow him off to study. He remembered you cancelling hangouts because your parents refused to let you out of their house until you studied until you were cross-eyed. Their house, their rules, was the policy. 

But he also remembered those nights when he would hear a knock on his bedroom window and smile when he saw you beaming at him through the glass. One December night, you were crazy enough to sneak out during the nipping cold, shivering and rubbing your arms outside his window. 

Though it was many years ago, Jaehyun remembered that night clearly. His mother made you hot cocoa and promised not to tattle. She always had a soft spot for you and held some disdain for your parents. She claimed they worked you too hard. 

Everything was so perfect back then. He knew what changed, but he couldn’t understand why. You used to make time for him whenever you could. As the pressures of adulthood caught up to you, it all came to a slow, brutal end. 

But why?

Then, leave. Those were the two words he would never forget. They were powerful than the I love you’s - more powerful than the I miss you’s. Your clipped, icy tone, would maybe someday be forgiven, but never forgotten. 

A stubborn wound was forevermore slashed on his heart waiting for you to heal it. 

You were breaking. Every part of you was crashing down. A familiar ache split your heart right down the middle. “I’ll never forgive myself for throwing away the most beautiful thing that had ever happened to me. I didn’t know what I had until it was gone and I can’t tell you enough how sorry I am.”

Your ex-lover was mawkishly nostalgic and sentimental and never said he forgave you, for that would take a while longer, but told you, “I knew I was the second priority in your life after your career. And I was okay with that. Then, it started to feel like I had no place in it at all. I was at the end of my tether, a stranger to the woman I was supposed to marry, and I knew we couldn’t carry on like that, my love.”

My love. That was what Jaehyun always used to call you. Your eyes flickered. “Do you still…?”

“I don’t think I’ll ever completely get over you,” Jaehyun admitted forlornly. 

That was when the dam broke. Jaehyun had dismantled you piece by piece and left you vulnerable. You had no strength to fight back the tears rolling down your cheeks. 

Jaehyun’s arms, as they always were, were wide open. He pulled you into his warm embrace and let you sob into his chest, smoothing his hand down your back and protecting you from the sharp coldness of your own pain. You were beleaguered to remember the last time you let yourself cry. You let everything pile up until the water pressure became too much. 

“Shh. It’s okay. Let it out,” Jaehyun crooned, gently stroking your hair. “You’re not weak.” 

There was an ache resurfacing in your body and it was purely unshakable. Your heart was whole, but hollow. Only its pleas to be back with Jaehyun - where it belonged - rang out in the icebound, empty void. 

Being in Jaehyun’s arms only made you nostalgic and the pain hit you harder. You thought regretfully of those moments in the past when he would hold you for all to see. And you remembered going to bed and always knowing he was still there, because you would feel his arms still tight around you and smile. Like he wanted to protect you, even while asleep. 

You sobbed, “I don’t deserve you.”

Jaehyun gently pushed you back only a little and looked you in your eyes. He wiped your cheeks with his thumb and told you calmly, “You made a mistake. We all do.” 

The gesture made you soft and weak. Goddamn it, you were so weak for him. Like your knees would give in any moment now. 

“Not like the one I made, though.” 

“That’s true,” Jaehyun said. “But do you regret it?”

Your voice wavered, “More than anything.”

“Then, I forgive you.”

You shook your head, not knowing how to accept that. You didn’t deserve forgiveness. You didn’t deserve understanding. But that was the kind of person Jaehyun was. 

He deserves someone better than me, you thought somberly. But you wouldn’t know what you would do with yourself if he found that someone. 

“You should hate me,” you said softly, voice cracking. “I broke your heart. I broke us.”

Jaehyun shook his head. “You know what my mother always says?” 

“It doesn’t only matter if you break something, but if you’re willing to put it back together,” you said, smiling fondly at the memory of his mother. She always treated you like you were her own. 

Jaehyun nodded and asked, “Are you willing to put us back together again?”

You mulled it over. There was no doubt that you were willing. Back then, you were too in your head to notice reality. Now, you were blindsided by pain and regret and inclined to do anything to make it stop. “What it I mess up again?” 

“Relationships aren’t perfect. People fuck up and people make mistakes. You’re only human,” Jaehyun told you frankly. “I’ll be there to help you clean it up. But don’t let me pull all the weight. We both have to fight together.”

“Okay.” You knew what you wanted now. It wasn’t that job. It wasn’t a promotion. It was the man that had spent half his life loving you, and would still love you for the other half. “I’m willing.”

Jaehyun smiled. A part of him couldn’t fathom how this was happening. The hole in his heart was steadily being sealed. He pulled you back flush against his chest. 

The tension in the air seemed to alleviate then. You could finally breathe again. Being in a tight space with the love of your life didn’t feel suffocating anymore, but closer to relief. 

You were talking freely again. You missed just being able to have a conversation with Jaehyun, recalling those times when you would discuss anything under the sun. Long nights of talking the moon away knowing full well you had work in the morning hit you. With Jaehyun, the small talk was skipped. You could discuss anything and everything. 

There was no worry, no fear. Sometimes, there would be tension, but never the unpleasant kind. Only moments ago, those times seemed like merely a distant memory. Now, there was hope that you had Jaehyun back. 

In his arms, you realized that was where you belonged. It was your safe haven in a world filled with danger. Your secrets were safe with Jaehyun and you were free to be vulnerable, because you knew he would never betray you. No matter what happened between you both, whether you were angry or in love, you knew whatever you told each other would forever remain under lock and key. 

“Do you remember the arch?” you asked, wistfully recalling what could’ve been. “I wanted a mistletoe up there. For some reason, I couldn’t shake the thought of kissing you underneath it for the first time as your wife.”

Jaehyun chuckled fondly. “I remember. I also remember you wanted John Stamos to marry us because he was your, and I quote, ‘true first love.’”

You nudged his side. “Hey, I would have also accepted Shemar Moore.”

Goddamn it, now Jaehyun was thinking about kissing you. His eyes fell to your pretty lips, still as enticing as they used to be when you were his. Never had he wanted to kiss you so badly. Like it would heal the wounds caused by missing you. 

Can I… can I kiss you?” Jaehyun asked. 

You said with no hesitation, “You can do whatever you want to me.” 

Now that he had your permission, Jaehyun didn’t waste a second to envelop your lips in his. Only then did you realize how much you missed feeling his lips on yours, how much you craved tasting his tongue in your mouth. You had gone so long without, but ironically, he still felt like home. And making out with him felt right as ever. 

Jaehyun kissed you so fiercely that he nearly swept you off balance and caught your hips in his arms. Your fingers threaded through his hair, back against the railing. He kissed you to make up with the wasted times he spent with other people. You kissed him to make up for the wasted times you could have spent with each other. To fill the void and patch each other back up. 

He taught you what love was. It was letting each other in instead of freezing each other out. It was was building something beautiful together and fighting to protect it instead of letting it all fall apart and into ruins. 

Kissing you eased Jaehyun’s heart. His pain was forgotten and he was overwhelmed with his undying love for you. He would never get over you, no matter how hard he tried. A love like the one you had would take more than a lifetime to get over you.

The way you immediately clicked, it was like you knew each other in a past live. Even now, his feelings were unabating. In his next life, it would still be you and only you. Always and forever. 

You were so besotted with Jaehyun and the way his lips tasted that neither of you noticed the elevator door opening. 

Yangyang cleared his throat. “Um, guys?” 

Both of you whipped around, more than a little shocked to see the door open with Yangyang standing in the middle to prevent it from closing on you. 

Jaehyun looked at you and asked, “How long have we been in here?”

“Approximately two hours,” Yangyang chirped. “You’re free to go now. By free to go, I mean please exit the lift. As you can see, there’s a bit of a line.”

You looked behind Yangyang and saw a couple of people impatiently waiting to travel upstairs. You lowered your head and flushed. Jaehyun laced his fingers through yours and led you outside of the elevator, smiling like a dumbass. He didn’t care who saw. He couldn’t have been any more happy than he was right now. 

“Well, we’re free,” he said once you were both in the clear. Then, he frowned. “But we still have work.”

You winced. “And I wasn’t kidding about the place burning down. I really need to be there. I know how that sounds, but I promise I’ll make it up to you later. Do you trust me?” 

“Of course,” Jaehyun said, grabbing your wrist and kissing the back of your hand. 

Your heart tugged at the gesture. Why’d he have to be so goddamn perfect? 

You got on your toes and pressed a brief kiss to his lips, feeling butterflies swimming in your gut. It seemed they had come to visit again. “I’ll see you later, Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun told you goodbye and watched you leave. It hurt a little to see you go, but he knew you would come back to him. You always did, even if it took a year and unlikely circumstances. 

When you were gone, he turned around and grabbed his phone out of his pockets. He had to tell his mother that maybe she knew best after all. 

Night fell. Jaehyun still hadn’t heard from you although you should have been off from work hours ago. A part of him was worried, but he still trusted that you wouldn’t give in to your old habits. It was Friday night. Maybe you were resting and would see him tomorrow. 

Jaehyun went into his living room and played some music. The atmosphere reminded him of you. Holding you in his arms and spinning you around. Everywhere he went, he could still hear your voice and laugher ringing in his hair, like the ghost of you was haunting him. 

He shook his head. You drove him mad. He accepted that he would never forget you, much less the way it felt to love you. 

The doorbell ring and he could barely hear it over his music. Jaehyun didn’t pause it, but went to open his door and was pleasantly surprised to see you standing there. 

“What are you doing?” Jaehyun asked. 

“I told you I would make it up to you,” you said, breath condensing in the air. You gestured to the pair of grocery bags in your arms. 

It was Jaehyun’s natural instinct to take them out of your hands, and turning, he said, “Hurry up and come in. It’s cold outside.”

You didn’t need to be told twice and followed him immediately, shutting the door behind yourself. It was warm and cozy inside his apartment, as always. You hung your coat on the rack and glanced around, memories hitting you tenfold, square in the heart. Everywhere your eyes fell, you saw figures of you and Jaehyun. 

Dancing in the living room. Movie night marathons on the couch. And racing down the hallway with your lips on the other’s and your hands desperately trying to remove each other’s clothes as you messily stumbled into the bedroom for a long night of loving. 

“I see you’ve already set the mood,” you joked when you noticed the music playing, watching him set the groceries on the counter. 

Jaehyun beamed. “I wasn’t even expecting company.”

“Sorry for showing up unannounced.” You smiled coyly, approaching the kitchen. “I’ll make it up to you. And no, you can’t help, Chef.” 

“Please?” 

You grabbed a gigantic wooden spoon and pointed at him. “Sit your ass down.”

“Jesus. Alright, then,” Jaehyun said, lifting his arms defensively. Ever stubborn were you. The reminder roused a chuckle from him. “Have it your way then, bossy.”

“I will.”

Jaehyun shook his head, still cheesing like an idiot. You were still iron-willed. That part of you would never change. 

You cooked dinner in Jaehyun’s apron and he laughed at how big it was on you. The memories were overwhelming now. It seemed that no matter where you were or what you were doing, his mind would always find a way to remind him of your presence. 

But the memories didn’t have to be bitter or painful anymore. He wanted to try again. He wanted a fresh start, a chance to repaint the canvas and a clean slate. As long as you were both determined to make things work, Jaehyun had faith in you and him. 

“Dinner was amazing,” Jaehyun complimented, throwing your dirty dishes in the sink to be remembered later. He stepped back over to the island and trapped you in his arms. 

You peered up at him, cheeks warming. “Thank you.”

Looking into your pretty eyes, Jaehyun couldn’t resist the temptation to kiss you anymore. You made a noise of surprise when he met his lips to yours, caught completely off-guard, but you kissed him back. It would be fighting your instincts not to. 

You closed your eyes and let Jaehyun guide you, trusting he would never lead you astray. When he kissed you, he melted away your icebound surface and got under your skin, peeling you back layer by layer. You liked kissing Jaehyun. Way too much. Even now, you could still recall the first time you made out, hiding behind the bleachers on campus yet gigging loud enough for all to hear. 

When it came to each other, you both were like moths to the dangerous flames of love. Love would always unite you again. You couldn’t resist those pretty, twinkling sparks of fire. And you couldn’t get enough of the burn. 

Jaehyun was confused when you pulled away, but looked into your eyes again and saw a kind of sadness twinkle in them. Your voice was weak, “Why don’t you hate me?” 

“I couldn’t even if I wanted to, baby,” Jaehyun said, finding your hand and squeezing it firmly. “And believe me, I tried. Even if a part of me did hate you, an even bigger part of me will always love you.”

That was all you needed to hear before you were sucking on his tongue again, wet kissing noises tangled in the sound of old school music. 

Then, Jaehyun pressed you into the counter, kissing you even rougher. You were riling him up, moaning into his mouth and that noise would never not do it for him. A different kind of fire came over you when you noticed him very impatiently unbuttoning your blouse. 

Same old Jaehyun. At heart, he was still the same as the cute boy you fell in love with. You were pleasantly impressed that kissing you alone still got him up. 

You broke the kiss again to ask through jagged breath, “Do you think we’re moving too fast?”

“Probably,” Jaehyun replied. Not that he gave a damn. Unless you did, of course. “Do you wanna stop?” 

“Jaehyun, I literally have not had sex in over a year. If you don’t fuck my brains out I think I’ll cry.”

Jaehyun chuckled darkly. “That can be arranged.”

You made a noise of surprise when Jaehyun cautiously scooped you into his sturdy arms and lowered you onto the counter. You made out hotly, his hands continuing to quickly unbutton your blouse and yours pulling his shirt above his head. 

The sight of his happy trail and toned abs made your core throb. And your mouth water. Your palms involuntarily slicked over them, feeling nothing but hard skin and muscle.

“See something you like?” Jaehyun asked, grinning in the most annoying way possible. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat and said, “Still a gym rat, I see.” 

Jaehyun bobbed his head. “Yeah. I still hit the gym with Johnny when we have spare time.”

That you knew. Despite the breakup, you and Jaehyun still had a ton of mutual friends, chiefly from high school. You recalled seeing Johnny post one of his gym visits with Jaehyun not too long ago. 

And you also vividly remembered the sight of Jaehyun, donning sweats and a blank tank-top. He drove you absolutely feral. His hair was matted to his forehead with sweat and his biceps were flexed, showing off his muscle. You would always be a sucker for a burly man that could snap you in half if he so pleased. 

Jaehyun expertly removed your bra and tossed it somewhere to be forgotten. He wanted to see your breasts bounce while he pounded you into oblivion. Your skirt followed, but Jaehyun slid your panties to your ankles at a agonizingly slow pace, all the while smiling like an idiot as you gave a needy and impatient whimper. 

“You’re already so wet,” Jaehyun murmured, drawing an invisible pair of lines on your bare cunt with his fingers. “Did you miss me that much?”

You whimpered, “Please, Jay.”

Hearing you call out his name like that was all it took for Jaehyun to lose all sense of self-restraint and he spread your thighs apart with tenderness, burying himself between them. You let out a sharp cry, throwing your head back. Some of your best orgasms were the ones when Jaehyun ate you out until you physically could no longer take it and begged for him to stop. 

Jaehyun targeted your clit immediately, a testament to the fact that he knew your body intimately. Your thighs clamped around the sides of his head, unaccustomed to the pressure. 

He merely clasped your thighs in his palms and held them freestanding, undeterred as he continued to lap at you like with the hunger only a untamed beast could have. 

“Fuck,” was all you could say, curses dangling from your lips. You had been touch-starved for over a year and the familiarity of Jaehyun’s touch was overwhelming in the best way possible.

Despite the fact Jaehyun handled you gently, with love and tenderness and nothing but, he ate you out like an animal. 

Jaehyun longed for the taste of you, arousal gathering on his tongue. He loved unraveling you like this. You could never stay still, much less quiet when he was going down on you. The sight of you, head angled back and moaning his name nearly made him cum in his pants. 

Your fingers clamped locks of his hair and Jaehyun groaned, somehow spurred on by the gesture. You were making noises left to right, feeling yourself nearing your peak in record time. A year of no sex factoring in a skilled partner would absolutely do that to you.

Your lover learned to recognize you at the threshold of release a very long time ago and briefly parted from your pussy, substituting his mouth with his fingers as he sang, “Just let go for me, baby. It’s okay.”

It was clear that your body had every intention of obeying him. Naturally, it submitted to Jaehyun, with no fear and no reluctance. He knew it and it knew him. 

“Oh my God. Jaehyun,” you moaned, thighs twitching. Not wanting to hurt him, you clamped your nails into the counter, eyes closed as the pressure threatened to consume you from head to toe. 

Jaehyun talked you through it, whispering, “Do it for me, baby. Just let go.”

Not too much longer, orgasm seized you, rendering you weak and defenseless. You had no strength in your body to fight it even if you wanted to, weakened by his touch. Your toes clenched and you cried his name, fingernails scraping the island roughly enough to damage both your nails and the countertop.  

Jaehyun didn’t stop eating you out until you went rigid, chest undulating. You looked a hot mess, heaving for breath and your lips parted, easing the airflow. 

“Are you okay?” Jaehyun asked when he moved from between your legs, fighting off a smirk at the sight of you completely disheveled. 

“Not until you fuck me,” you rasped, still needy in spite of still trying to catch your breath. 

Jaehyun snickered and tugged his pants down, underwear soon giving chase. You positively gawked when you saw his bare, thick dick. It never failed to make your mouth water. And your body tremble with release. 

You kept your nails at your sides as Jaehyun lined his cock up at your entrance, gently easing himself past your sheath-like walls. He still clasped his hands at your thighs, brows crumpling  with concentration. You were still so goddamn tight, clamping around him with a grip almost vice-like. 

“Jay,” you whimpered, hands clenching into fists. 

“Shh,” Jaehyun whispered, moving his mouth to the side of your face. There was a catch in your breath when you noticed his lips brushing against your ear, breath tickling your nape. “Open up for me, baby.”

The sensation of being filled completely made you feel nothing short of relief. There was a wet noise when Jaehyun’s hips smacked against your own, the last thrust followed by one even deeper. You tried your best to take all of him, wanting to please him even if it was the last thing you did. 

Jaehyun slipped out of his own trance briefly enough to mention, “I didn’t wear a condom.”

“Just pull out,” you said, in no state of mind to give a damn. You liked the feeling of him fucking you nice and raw. 

“We’re definitely a pair of idiots.”

You snickered and found his hand, slipping your fingers through his. “You’re my idiot and I’m your idiot. That’s all that matters.”

Jaehyun smiled into the crook of your neck, eventually clamping his teeth there to conceal a moan at your expense. 

He lifted his head and drew back to admire the entire view, watching his cock disappear between your legs over and over again borderline obsessively. There was something about you that he would never get tired of. He liked holding you close and loving you hard. 

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Jaehyun exhaled, voice full of sincerity. And raw pleasure. 

You were burning up, withering heat blindsiding you. Jaehyun was making short work of you. It felt like love-making rather than plain old fucking, all things considered. Jaehyun’s gentle, steady pace as he whispered sweet little nothings in your ear, old school romance songs faded out in the background all the while. 

All you could focus on was Jaehyun. He was all you could hear, all you could feel. You were driven by the feeling of your walls garroting his size, the sounds of the little groans he couldn’t smother into your skin and his affectionate words urging you closer to climax. 

“Don’t hold back, baby,” you sighed, tightening your hold around his hand. It was a tiny, sweet gesture. “Please? I wanna hear you.”

Jaehyun obeyed you because there wasn’t a damn thing on this earth he wouldn’t do for you. You owned him and you knew it. 

Jaehyun swore when you clamped around his dick even harder. He watched your breasts bounce, your whole body unstill. Even your hands were scrambling, releasing him and now finding purchase in his back. “I love you,” he sighed, kneading your breasts. 

“I love you, too,” you moaned, feeling light as ever. He always took you to another dimension whenever you were together, but especially when he was fucking you within an inch of your life. 

I love you, too. Jaehyun was beaming. That was the first time he’d heard you say it in over a year and you had no idea how badly he needed to hear it again now. 

Jaehyun marked up your neck, leaving a trail of himself like souvenirs for you to remember in his absence. Your pulse thumped rapidly, your heart on the verge of tearing out of your chest, landing into his palms where it belonged. Now, your heartache was - at long last - soothed. 

There were no words to aptly describe your affection towards Jaehyun. Your love for him ran to an inexplicably deep extent with seemingly no end. It was all you could think about while he fucked you, how badly you needed him in your life. How the sensations he made you feel were irreplicable and you were content enough to simply be in his arms. 

Your lover never lasted very long when fucking you bare and raw and sensing himself approaching climax, Jaehyun brought his fingers to your clit, already swollen from release. A gasp tore from your throat when he fondled with the sensitive bundle of nerves, trying to facilitate an orgasm out of you. 

“Jaehyun,” you whined. You reached for his hand, sensitive. 

Jaehyun grabbed your hand with his spare one and slipped his fingers through again for you to squeeze. “It’s okay, my love. I want you to cum,” he said gently, biting your sweet spot. 

He was making short work of you. Your climax threatened to ensnare you with a force powerful enough to snap you in half. You needed it. More than anything, you needed it. 

You hauled your nails over his back, drawing long, red lines across the naked flesh. Jaehyun hissed darkly, pace quickening and coming even harder. You were driving him mad and vice versa. Your body had never been more confused than it was in that moment, barely willing itself to not writhe away but simultaneously matching his thrusts, wanting to build the pleasure yet somehow escape it all at once. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” you warned in a impassioned chant, choking on your lack of breath. “I’m…” 

Your body quivered, release stealing the rest of your words before you could speak them. You found Jaehyun’s hand again, squeezing it for dear life. The orgasm was so heavy you almost collapsed in on yourself and Jaehyun. You were seeing white, burning red, emitting Jaehyun’s name in a sharp cry. 

Jaehyun felt you clenching around his cock with climax and immediately withdrew, knowing he would bust a nut inside you if he stayed a second longer. “Open your mouth,” Jaehyun told you, voice husky, thick with lust.  

It was almost enough to break you all over again. 

You did as instructed, no hesitation required. Jaehyun fitted his cock inside your mouth, moaning at how warm it was. You took him in, wanting to get him off and taste him dripping down your throat. 

When he saw you, cheeks hollowed with his rigid cock in your mouth, Jaehyun nearly came then and there. He fucked your mouth, guttural little praises dangling from his lips. 

Your thighs clenched tightly, hot sparks still aflame between. He got you riled up effortlessly, hardly ever needing to try. There was something about him that you were naturally attracted to, an unshakable kind of attraction. You couldn’t fathom why you couldn’t escape him, why your body and heart was seized by your lover. 

“So good,” Jaehyun grunted, pace accelerating. 

Jaehyun fucked your throat until he came, emptying his balls into your mouth at long last. Eagerly, you swallowed as much as you could, an amalgamation of his release and your saliva dribbling down your chin and onto your naked, heaving breasts. 

And the sight positively wrecked him. 

“Fuck,” you rasped, still registering what the hell had happened. 

Jaehyun’s eyes flashed with alarm. “Did I hurt you?” 

“No, it’s just that that’s the best sex I’ve had in a while.”

Jaehyun rolled his eyes and quipped, “That’s the only sex you’ve had in a while.”

“Still the best.”

Jaehyun laughed, eyes crinkling. “Round two?” 

“God, yes,” you groaned, still feeling unalloyed pleasure burning between your thighs. 

Jaehyun scooped your bare body into his arms again and carried you into his room, pressing the gentlest of kisses to your lips and neck all the while. 

You smiled to yourself in the morning when you roused, feeling Jaehyun’s arms still wrapped loosely around your waist. 

Everything had shifted then. Though you initially had plans of spending the holidays buried in work, you came to find that Jaehyun’s warm embrace was the greatest gift you could have asked for on Christmas day. There was none of the loneliness and dwelling you dreaded, only making brand new memories with the man you loved with your entire heart, mind and soul.

On Christmas day, you visited his mother’s house where his family had gathered, recognized familiar faces that were surprisingly all too glad to see you again. 

When Jaehyun’s mother opened the front door, you greeted bashfully, “Hi, Mrs. Jung.” 

“I knew we would meet again,” Mrs. Jung said softly, simpering in a self-satisfied manner. “Come in, dear. You’re always welcome in our home.”

You stepped inside the house, Jaehyun following suit once exchanging a silent, understanding glance with his mother. As always, she was right.

As you glanced around, nostalgia hit you tenfold. Everywhere you looked, there were memories of you and Jaehyun. You could see you both running up the stairs excitedly and Mrs. Jung scolding you about horse-playing indoors. When your eyes fell to the kitchen, you saw yourself joining the Jung’s for dinner, sitting directly beside your lover. 

Jaehyun leaned into your ear, given that seasonal music was blaring, and said, “I’m going to have a talk with my brother-in-law for a second. Be on your best behavior and don’t try to escape out a window. Old habits die hard.” 

You rolled your eyes and playfully shoved him. “Go. I’ll be right here,” you said, heart wrenching softly. 

Jaehyun snickered and slithered away. 

In his place came someone you were very familiar with. 

“Nostalgia?”

You whirled around, instantly recognizing the voice as Taeyong’s, one of Jaehyun’s many, many cousins. 

“I made a lot of memories here. I’ll never forget any of it,” you replied honestly. “Long time, no see.” 

Taeyong bobbed his head in agreement. “Definitely. I was scared that I’d never see you again.”

“Why is that?” Your curiosity was piqued. You never imagined Jaehyun’s family would anticipate meeting you once more. It was the stark opposite of your expectations. 

Taeyong leaned closer like he was telling you someone’s deepest, darkest secret, and whispered, “Between you and I, Jaehyun hasn’t been the same since the breakup. Not a happy camper. You were a part of his life for so long that we were all convinced he would never adjust to living one without you again.”

Visioning a morose, heartbroken Jaehyun made you frown. “I did that.”

“You absolutely did. You broke the poor guy’s heart and made him unbearable. He didn’t deserve that. And I didn’t deserve to have to put up with his insufferable ass,” Taeyong scoffed offhandedly, though you knew his words were lighthearted. “But you fixed it.”

“I guess I did that, too,” you exhaled contentedly, turning your head to spot Jaehyun chatting with his brother. That made you beam. Everything had fallen apart, shattered into pieces, but you were both willing to do the work and put them together. 

“He’s himself again,” Taeyong said, following your gaze. “Thank you for giving me my favorite cousin back.”

“I should have never taken him away in the first place.”

Taeyong gave you a playful, half-assed attempt at consoling, “Good people do bad things. We all fuck up. Just maybe not as badly as you.”

You nudged his side. 

He continued, turning somewhat sober, “He forgives you. But this won’t work out until you also forgive yourself.”

“You’re so young, but so wise,” you whispered, slightly touched. 

Taeyong snickered. “It runs in the family,” he said, patting your back before turning away. 

You merely stood there, rooted in place. Taeyong had given you something to muse on you. You realized a part of you was still clinging onto guilt, unable to rationalize your own decisions. You were so convinced that you were undeserving of Jaehyun’s love and courtesy that you had forgotten how to move on from your errors. 

It would be a process. But a step a day was better than none at all. 

You beamed when you noticed Jaehyun approaching you and he returned it, outstretching his hand and asking, “May I steal a dance?” 

“Of course,” you said, taking his hand in yours. 

Jaehyun brought you from the foyer to the living room where mainly everybody had gathered to dance, spinning you in his arms as holiday music filled the air. 

You swept some free strands of hair from his handsome face, admiring the view only a little higher up than you. Even in a room filled to the hilt with people, Jaehyun and Jaehyun alone was all you could see. Everyone else faded. It was only you and your lover, swaying to the rhythm of a seasonal song. 

“This feels like senior prom, but Christmas edition,” Jaehyun quipped.

You snickered delightfully. “I remember when we were announced prom king and queen. I like how nobody was surprised.”

You remembered it like it was yesterday. Jaehyun joined you for the first dance, gently whirling you around in front of several prying eyes, but you didn’t care. To you, the room was as good as empty. They were faceless, nameless people with no contribution or value, no relation to you and your blossoming romance with Jaehyun.

It was an experience you never knew you needed back then. Maybe in that moment, you knew it was fate. That one way or another, Jaehyun was inevitably the one you would grow old and gray-haired with. 

Even now, as you stared into his pretty brown eyes, you knew that this was the man you wanted a future with. 

Jaehyun glanced up and said, “Look.”

You did as told, smiling fondly as you noticed the mistletoe hanging above your heads. A part of you wondered if it was a coincidence or if he chose this spot deliberately. “I remember kissing you in front of everyone,” Jaehyun added, full of mischief. 

You played along and hummed, “I’m not sure if I recall. Care to remind me?”

Jaehyun didn’t waste a second to lock lips with you, tasting hot cocoa on your tongue. You could taste gingerbread on his and the thought made you giggle into his mouth. There was something about it - something about Jaehyun - that made every tiny thing mean a billion times more. 

All of the whimsical little things made your heart swell with happiness. 

“Yo, chill, you horn dogs. There’s children,” scolded Jaehyun’s other cousin Mark, covering his little cousin’s eyes. His family gave you a headache. Every time you learned them all, it was as if another cousin popped out of thin air. 

You and Jaehyun pulled away, snickering. You leaned on your toes, giving his lips one final peck before deciding you’d had your fill. 

Days of being Jaehyun’s again turned into some of the happiest months of your life. You were letting go of some of your old habits and setting some past trauma free. There were a handful of grim times, but you both made the effort to repair things before they spiraled out of control. 

Excuses had run their course. Jaehyun would ask you on dates and you’d agree more, overworking yourself less. Until now, you never realized that putting some distance between yourself and the stresses of work was what it took to be happier. You had made the earth-shattering mistake of convincing yourself that hard work equated happiness. 

The two of you agreed to take things slow, afraid rushing would land you in an achingly familiar predicament, but you couldn’t deny that things had been speeding up. And Jaehyun already knew that it would forever be you. 

It was another long, brutal day of work and nothing was out of the ordinary. You were running across the office, balancing direct orders on top of your daily tasks. You needed six skins to have a job like this. Three to balance the roles of multiple people and another three to endure the wear and tear. 

Ten, your favorite co-worker, tracked you down and stopped you dead in your tracks to say, “Hey, slow down a second. Someone’s here to see you.”

You did the opposite of slowing down, still walking and as he followed you, said, “Tell them I’m taking a sick day, would you? Thanks, Tennie.” 

“I don’t think so,” Ten said, donning an amused look. Which successfully made you pause in confusion. Usually, Ten never hesitated to cover for you. “You’re going to want to hear what this guy has to say. I swear.” 

Very reluctantly, you agreed to follow Ten, curiosity piqued as you wondered who in the hell would dare interrupt you in the middle of a swift-paced work day. 

Jung Jaehyun. That was who. 

You made a face of confusion when you saw him there, smiling at you like an idiot. Confused, you asked, “Jay, you couldn’t text or call?” 

“What I’m about to do is a bit difficult to do over the phone,” Jaehyun retorted, admiring your state of obliviousness. 

You huffed, “What are you…” 

You cut yourself off when you noticed one of the staff hand Jaehyun a tiny box and he proceeded to crouch on one knee. The realization made your heart thud, pulse quickening. 

Jaehyun started, “Baby, I’ve been racking my brain trying to think of how to say this. I had to have tried to practice this a million times before I decided to talk to you from my heart.”

Your co-workers all gathered around, and you noticed even your boss observing from the corner of your eyes, but your gaze was locked on Jaehyun and no one but. 

Your lover fought his nerves and added, “We met when we were in high school. I remember it like it was yesterday. We were so young, dumb, and drunk off learning what true love was for the first time. We couldn’t resist each other.” 

The memories made your heart melt, taut with ecstasy. 

“Then, we got older. And things got more complicated, but in spite of that, we never stopped loving each other. Not for a second,” Jaehyun declared, impassioned. “I’ve been in love with you for so long that I can’t imagine my life any other way. No matter what has changed between us.”

Jaehyun was staring you dead in the eyes, watching your face melt with awe. It gave him all the courage he needed. 

“You made it so easy to fall in love with you but so hard to fall back out. And I don’t want to. I adore you, my love. Thoughts of you keep me up and night, restless. You make me crazy.”

Your eyes burned, fighting an oncoming threat of tears with every passing word. Jaehyun had swept you off your feet, making you feel emotions you never knew existed. 

“I know we’ve been through thick and thin, baby. But we were there for each other. And even when we separated, we found our way right back into each other’s arms,” your lover added. 

You wanted to pinch yourself, determine if you were dreaming. Even though Jaehyun had proposed once to you before, you would never get used to the wave of emotion that plagued you, rendering you soft and full of glee. 

“I didn’t know what love was until I fell for you. You’re my first love and all these years by your side have only solidified my courage that I want you to be my last. You are the only woman on this earth I can imagine a future with and if it’s not you, then I know there’s nobody else out there for me.”

Ten was smartly grabbing a box of tissues for safe measure.

Jaehyun’s voice got softer, “Let’s try again, my love. Let’s do this one more time - one last time. Will you marry me?” 

Now, you had the spotlight. Ten was none too subtly mouthing, “Say ‘yes.’” Everybody was anticipating your reaction and you wondered exactly how long in advance everyone had been in on this little surprise except for you. 

There was no hesitation and you practically screamed as you chanted, “Yes!”

Jaehyun, much like the last time he proposed to you, swept you into his arms and kissed you to death, effectively silencing you. The room erupted in cheer. Everybody was glad to get a break from their tedious jobs and witness a moment as beautiful as this one. 

The champagne was already popping. Your fiancé whirled you in your arms and you told him affectionately, “I love you.”

“Say it again,” Jaehyun said, incapable of getting enough. 

“I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you. I love you so much that I don’t know what to do with myself.”

“Let me love you,” your fiancé said, staring at you like you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. And you were. “That’s all you have to do.”

You smiled, pretending to mull it over. “I think I can let that happen.”

Jaehyun was over the moon. There were no words to describe how ecstatic he was. He missed this feeling and he was more than glad that it had returned. “Merry Christmas,” he said playfully. 

“Jaehyun, it is literally the end of February. You wished me Happy Valentines Day after fucking my brains out on your birthday,” you replied, rolling your eyes. 

“Still,” your fiancé said, pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips and cheesing at the memory of fucking you raw again. “Marrying you is the best gift I could ever ask for.”

You smiled in agreement. And fought a smirk as you remembered you had your own little surprise for your betrothed, waiting for you at home on the bathroom counter. 

Jesus Christ, you were going to need a bigger place to stay.

[revehae]

frankenstein

pairing ↠ stepbrother!haechan x (f) reader

genre .. warnings ↠ smut, noncon, dubcon, abuse, stepcest, misogyny, the patriarchy is deeply embedded within the story, religious themes here and there, dialogues regarding childbirth and pregnancy

summary ↠ in a world where your body belongs more to your future husband than it ever will to you, it makes sense that your brother, by law or by birthright, owns you too. when your father died, you were convinced that was the worst thing that could ever happen to you. you hadn’t met haechan yet.

wc ↠ 30k (my biggest fic ever)

a/n ↠ revehae’s disbandment fic… if it’s not already obvious, my beliefs do not align with the beliefs frequently portrayed in this story. it is not my intention to romantize any abuse or toxic behavior you may read. also, i had to compact some lines to meet the tumblr block limit (about 40 of them), so if some things read weirdly or a block of text seems huge, i apologize. as always, feedback is appreciated!

don’t like it, don’t read.

night had settled and naturally your body had begun to loosen with the need for rest, your eyelids getting heavy.

every now and then, you would hear a cacophony of boisterous laughs from downstairs just moments before you could slip away completely. at the threshold of sleep, but constantly interrupted. with an exasperated sigh, you resigned yourself to watching television for a while, at least until the boys wore themselves out for the night. but every time you had to turn the volume up another notch, you felt your irritation ramping.

deciding you were at your breaking point, you stuffed your feet into your house slippers and marched down the stairs straight into the living room, huffing, “can you guys please be a little quieter? i’ve been trying to sleep for an hour.”

your stepbrother, haechan, and his three partners in crime, jeno, jaemin, and mark, all glanced at you. there was a lull of silence before they each burst into laughter. “my sweet sister,” haechan said, setting his cup on the coffee table and standing up from where he’d been seated with the others. “what did i tell you about making demands?”

you stiffened. you hadn’t meant to come off that way, but could he blame you for being cranky? sue you for wanting to get some sleep. preferably before the night was over with. “i’m not trying to make demands,” you replied, your tone shifting to something gentler. “i was just asking for a favor.”

“we owe you favors?” haechan asked, the question clearly not meant to be answered. you shuddered when his hand met the small of your back. he cocked his head towards the kitchen. “let’s have a chat.”

your feet carried you there on their own accord when your mind failed you.

“now,” haechan started, shaking his head in dissatisfaction, and sucked his teeth. “that little stunt aside, what did i tell you about coming out when my friends are around?”

“not to do it,” you murmured.

“that’s right,” haechan sang, his hands gentle around your body and his own throbbing with warmth, but his touch still made you freeze. “that could have been a phone call and i might have been more inclined to be nice. but you disobeyed me. you’ve been doing that a lot, sweetheart. so now you’re gonna have to learn why it’s important to listen to me.”

your brows furrowed, and you were desperate to know what he meant by that. you knew him well enough to recognize when you were on the verge of being disciplined. your stepbrothers punishments had been unpleasant, at the very least.

haechan grinned at the obvious look of dread on your face and the stiffness in your posture, and called out to the boys. when they entered the kitchen with mischievous smiles on their lips, each more so than the last, he leaned into you and whispered, “each of my friends has had a little too much to drink tonight, and when men drink, well, let’s just say it makes us do things we wouldn’t normally do.”

you knew he wasn’t saying that to give you a reminder of the effects alcohol had on human inhibition; he was telling you to warn you about what was going to happen any moment now. your eyes widened. “haechan, no, please,” you begged, suddenly wide awake. you frantically hid behind him, panicked.

haechan snickered. they all did. “ah, ah, ah,” he sang, grabbing a hold of you and not only pushing you in front of him, but sending you stumbling into the arms of his friends. “you don’t get to hide now when you weren’t supposed to come out in the first fucking place.”

you had never felt so many hands on your body at once. your torso twisted and turned, shrinking into itself in hopes of recoiling away from every touch, but it was a pointless endeavor. “your little sister is so pretty, haechan,” said mark. “she’s so squirmy,” teased jaemin. “look at her trying to get away,” noted jeno. they all laughed.

“please, stop,” you pleaded, your eyes burning with unshed tears. “haechan, please, make them stop!”

haechan shook his head, and as far as you could tell, his eyes had been approving. “sorry,” he apologized without a hint of sincerity. “but you have to learn.”

fingers slithered up your thigh. “where you going, baby?”

there were a set of hands cupping your supple breasts, another groping your ass, and one more slipping underneath the band of your sleep shorts. you couldn’t tell which was which; your mind was trapped in a panic, and they were all the same. “shh,” jaemin crooned, palming your hair almost with tenderness. “we’re just having a little fun. no doubt haechan would throw a fit if we actually tried to depurify his innocent little sister.”

by the end of the night, you realized jaemin had been right. the three of them touched you and mauled you, but haechan didn’t let them do anything more. apparently, he was just teaching you a lesson. not that that had made it any better. haechan had been watching his friends fondle you for minutes on end, doing nothing in spite of your pleas. the moment he finally decided he’d seen enough and told them to release you, you’d sprinted back upstairs and locked yourself in your room like you should have done from the beginning.

your resentment deepened. never had you quite loved this strange family your mother had married into. your stepfather was a tall, stout businessman who was the chief executive of a technology powerhouse, which sounded awe-inducing out loud, but you always found him painfully arrogant and entitled. as the saying goes, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, and haechan was no different.

the worst part was that your mother made you serve him. made you fix his dinner when he was hungry, wash his clothes when they were dirty, clean up behind him and his friends. it was infuriating, because he had maids for that purpose, but insisted on having you do it for some peculiar reason. your mother agreed with him; she thought it was important you learned how to take care of a man.

when your father died, you were convinced that was the worst thing that could ever happen to you. you hadn’t met haechan yet.

on a particularly sunny afternoon, you had gotten dressed to go out to the mall with your best friend and made the unfortunate mistake of walking past haechan, who took one look at you and asked, “you’re really going out wearing that?”

“what’s wrong with it?” you asked in annoyance, glancing down at your outfit. “it’s modest.”

haechan retorted in a heartbeat, “yeah, modest and outdated as shit. you look like your name is velma.” he stood up and grabbed a hold of you, which you didn’t take kindly to, all things considered. “let’s go to your room. i’m not letting you go outside like this. it reflects poorly on the family image.”

you stifled a sigh, knowing better than to protest against him. 

“take that shit off,” haechan commanded once you entered your bedroom. 

you begrudgingly obeyed him, shedding the long dress with black buttons that formed a line on the front. it was a little dated, perhaps, but you dressed that way to honor your deceased grandmother. your father had liked it. he said it kept alive his mother’s memory. 

haechan had been going through your closet in pursuit of something that suited his taste, so when he finally did turn around and see you half naked, he paused. “you look better that way,” he said after a moment. 

you were affronted, and your body tensed in remembrance of what had happened the last time you felt so vulnerable.

“relax,” haechan teased, shoving a bright yellow sundress decorated with white daffodils into your arms. “put this on.”

the moment you donned the dress, you swore haechan almost looked happy to see you for the first time. his eyes took in the sight of you and it gave you the feeling of something unstill in the very pit of your stomach, even though in the moment he had silently looked at you, your body had seldom moved.

haechan was pleased. “so you do own something that’s not entirely unwearable. you know, they say fine feathers make fine birds.”

it took everything in you not to roll your eyes. “can i go now?”

“patience, miss mary mack,” haechan chastised playfully, grabbing a hat and purse from your closet, also yellow in color. “here. wear this.” with that, haechan turned and walked out of your room. apparently, that was all the consultation he had to offer.

when you were finally at the mall with your best friend chaewon, you couldn’t help but notice something unusual; there were too many eyes on you. you were used to being paid attention to in certain settings, usually in occasions related to your stepfather’s job where everyone recognized you as an attachment to him. his young, beautiful, unmarried stepdaughter.

this was different. not many people knew you, and yet for whatever reason, you could feel stares from numerous directions. most of the time when you went out with chaewon, they were only looking at her. you could count on both hands, if not more, the amount of times you’d been offered things for free just because a stranger felt moved by her beauty.

but as you stood in the middle of a jewelry store, chaewon was unbothered, your eyes darting over a bunch of luxury watches that were on display. “ooh, i think jaehyun would like this,” she whispered, pointing to a particular silver one. “wanna get something for haechan?”

“not really,” you murmured. “i don’t really know what he likes.” his personality made you think he would prefer something more flashy like gold, but as you pondered his style, your eyes raked over a watch with a brown leather band.

“he’s so cute, though,” chaewon swooned with a smile, sighing dreamily. “jaehyun said that he doesn’t want me to marry him, but it’s ultimately up to my dad. you should put in a good word for me.”

you frowned for a split second. you had always thought that you would marry whoever your dad selected for you, but now that he was dead, that choice was in the stone cold hands of your stepfather and stepbrother. you made an attempt at humor to cloak your grief. “don’t you have enough suitors already?” you teased.

“well, yeah,” chaewon admitted, despite not sounding deterred. “but imagine how much less my parents would argue if they’d just married someone they actually liked. that’s why we can’t have sleepovers at my house. always fussing.” 

she briefly paused, her attention stolen by another watch she thought her brother would find fitting as a gift, and pulled out her phone to take a picture. a thought struck her as her fingers moved. “ooh, plus we would be sisters-in-law!”

you nodded along as she rambled, but you couldn’t understand why she would want to wed haechan of all the men who would love to have her hand in marriage. it made no sense to you; he was unbearable and treated you cruelly. she would never know that, though. whenever chaewon came to your house for sleepovers, haechan was always on his best behavior.

you thought about it a little harder. haechan was the type of man that looked perfect in pictures and on paper. there was no doubt that he was a handsome young man, and sometimes he was admittedly even funny, but as long as you had shared a house with him, you had been increasingly more miserable.

though there was no way in hell you could tell chaewon that, not when it was your responsibility to ensure everyone kept your family in high regards, so you forced a smile and told her cheerfully, “i’ll ask him what he thinks about it.”

chaewon embraced you in a tight hug. “you’re the best.”

“no, chaewon,” you murmured faintly. “you are.”

if you had to give haechan credit for one thing, however, it would have to be the outfit he’d dressed you in. despite being often told you were beautiful, you were particularly lacking in suitors, which was concerning now that you were in your twenties.

these are the years for betrothal, your mother had said the day of your twentieth birthday, and when you closed your eyes to blow out the burning candle, you hoped for all the admirers your father had once vowed you would have, remembering the times he’d spun you in his arms and likened you to a princess with a million knights to defend her honor.

all you had ever wanted was to make your father proud, even if it meant settling with a man that was less like a fairytale, although in the deepest part of your heart, you had dreamed of a husband that treated you as well as your father had done until the day he died.

day by day, the reality of the situation seemed more and more grim, and as you compared yourself to other young women of your years, you concerned yourself less with the quality of men, but the quantity; time was running out, and you knew that if they found it necessary, your mother and her husband would pair you on blind dates with men of their choice sooner than later.

for that reason, and despite yourself, you found yourself standing outside haechan’s bedroom door. you almost turned back, almost decided that you could handle your problems on your own. with your pride, it seemed better to die than to ask him to extend his help, especially when he made it a point to remind you that he owed you no favors. but you knocked anyway, and when you heard the sound of brutal combat and agonized cries cease, you knew he was coming.

“what?” was the first thing haechan said when he answered his door. “i’m in the middle of a game.”

you swallowed. the words seemed physically painful to say. “i need your help.” it was a strained sound. 

haechan’s irritation was gone, replaced by something closer to amusement and ridicule. “you need my help?” he repeated, as amazed to hear those words as you were burdened to say them. “i owe you my help?”

god, it was insane how absurdly predictable he was. “no, but i didn’t ask you for help last time, and i believe your words were that my fashion choices ‘reflect poorly on the family image,’” you reminded.

haechan laughed; his owns words probably sounded like the wisdom of god repeated back to him. “this is about your subpar sense of style? why didn’t you say so sooner?” he stepped out of his doorway. “you realized why you should listen to big brother, didn’t you?”

hearing him refer to himself that way was almost as strange as hearing the irony in his voice when he called you, “sweet sister.” he was no brother of yours, no matter what the law or marriage said. nevertheless, you couldn’t deny the truth in the rest of his words; if nothing else had changed, then surely it was your clothing that had deterred men away.

inflating his ego was the last thing you wanted, so your response was a mere soft, “will you help me?”

“you’re lucky you’re my responsibility,” haechan replied, as if it would burden him otherwise. “sure, i’ll help you, but you’re gonna need an entire closet revamp. be ready to leave in thirty minutes.”

he walked backwards into his room and shut the door. thirty minutes later, you were in the passenger seat of haechan’s sleek, luxurious sports car. 

haechan was allergic to silence, and gripping the leather wheel, he asked teasingly, “what made you realize your fashion’s off? did you suddenly get special attention when you were out?” 

that was exactly what had happened and you hated it. “more or less,” you told him vaguely.

haechan hummed, putting on his blinker. at least he was a mindful driver. “men want things with value. things with no value go in the trash. your pretty face is a waste if you don’t know what to do with it. save the throwbacks for the met gala.”

“thanks for the advice,” you grumbled. 

haechan glanced away from the road briefly to throw you a look. “is that snark?”

“no,” you lied. you both knew it.

it didn’t seem to have personally gotten to him, but haechan was still unsatisfied. “you know how old my mom was when she got engaged to my father?” he asked. “nineteen.”

“and how did that work out for her?” you asked sarcastically, given that they were clearly no longer together.

“wonderfully, considering that when they divorced, she walked away with a fortune more than she had before they were married,” haechan retorted without missing a beat.

the man has a response for everything, you grumbled to yourself, exasperated. “i assume there’s a point in there somewhere.”

“if you would let me get there,” haechan groaned, feigning annoyance. “my mother, despite not being from the most wealthy family ever, still managed to marry my dad. do you want to guess why that is?”

“because your dad values things other than money?” you asked, despite finding it difficult to believe.

“close enough. because my dad saw value in her. the way she behaved, the way she carried herself. that was what made him decide that was the woman he wanted to tie himself to.”

you nodded along. “right.”

haechan rolled his eyes. you still didn’t get it. “the point is, my mom had nothing near my dad’s fortune and still managed to compete against richer women from more prominent families. you, my sweet sister, are the stepdaughter of one of the wealthiest men in the country, and yet how many men have you lured with your own effort?”

you were silent, but you knew he was right to an extent. again. of your suitors, they were mostly men that had heard the chief executive had a stepdaughter and decided that was all that they needed to hear. few were organic, which any woman would prefer.

in an effort to spare your pride, you huffed, “you act as if no man wants me at all.”

haechan laughed harshly. “as long as you’re the ceo’s stepdaughter, of fucking course men will want you. my dad is most likely handpicking a list of candidates for you as well. but most girls run up to their fathers and declare, ‘dad, this is the man i want to marry,’ and pray to god that daddy likes him. you expect me to believe that you’re so good of a stepdaughter, you’ll marry whoever my dad tells you to without bothering to find someone yourself first?”

you sighed.

“everybody in this family serves a purpose,” haechan told you, giving you his attention now that he’d stopped at a red light. “my father leads and represents the company. within a year’s time, he’ll retire and i’ll take his place. your mother assists with charities and public image. you need to figure out how you will contribute.”

it would be untrue if you said haechan hadn’t given you something to contemplate. you could have cared less about the family business, but you remembered your father. sometimes he could be conventional to a fault, though you had still loved him with all your heart. the man had put family above all else in the world, and knowing that, you knew you had to do the same.

not to honor this family whose name you didn’t bear and whose blood you didn’t share, but to honor your father. and there was no better way to do that than to transform yourself from a princess to a queen.

haechan brought you to a specific store you knew your stepfamily frequented. when you walked in together, the staff recognized you both and greeted you respectfully. “genesis,” haechan said to one of the workers, a pretty woman with brown hair and fair skin. “my sister here wants to change her style and is in need of a complete overhaul. do me a solid and show us everything you have in season.”

“you got it,” genesis replied with a kind smile. “right this way, mr. lee.”

she led you to a large, private dressing room secluded from the rest of the store. they had your measurements on file, courtesy of previous fittings, and genesis alongside some other workers began to bring out a large selection of outfits.

haechan did most of the talking. all you had to do was step in and out of the clothes, and wait for his nod of approval. “you look best in bold colors,” haechan mused out loud. he turned to genesis. “let’s try these.”

all around you, there were men and women bustling about as they meticulously organized a fine assortment of clothes and shoes and accessories that would complement your appearance. and when you let yourself sink into the moment, you did feel like royalty.

you did pick a few things yourself and haechan gave no protest, before or after he saw your choice. “i don’t think you have bad coordination. you just need to get your head out of the nineteenth century,” he teased.

you had no response for that, none that wouldn’t kill the mood. even when you were a child, your taste in clothing had always favored that of your grandmother, your father’s mother, yet another loss you had too soon faced. perhaps in dressing like her, you were subconsciously honoring her too. 

there was a large, golden-framed mirror fixed to the wallpaper that hung tall against its maroon surface, running nearly from the edge of the floor to the roof, and you gazed upon your appearance with little recognition. “do i look good?” you asked, your face still, your eyes neither fond or unfond.

“you look beautiful, miss,” genesis told you adoringly, delicately placing a headband around your head.

to your chagrin, her input was not the one you had intended to hear. haechan grinned, his warm brown eyes seeming to seldom blink as he looked at you. “it’s an improvement.”

but you could see his eyes wandering, appreciative, and there was an awkward blend of discomfort and desperation that clasped you in its arms. on the one hand, you hated the way he looked at you because it reminded you of the night when his friends had groped your body to their hearts’ content, but on the other, it made you feel desirable. and more than anything, you wanted to be desired.

“thank you for your hard work today,” haechan said to the staff members on your way out, giving your bags to a staff worker to take to the car. the man walked the other direction.

your brows stitched together. “we’re not leaving?” you asked, baffled. maybe he wanted to visit the food court.

“no, my sweet sister,” haechan replied silkily, taking your hand in his. “we have one more stop to make first.”

the second stop was another clothing store a floor higher, which you thought nothing of, assuming he simply wanted to view a broader inventory. haechan led you to the fitting room and told you to stay put. 

when he came back, he was holding an ivory lingerie set. your eyes went wide. “haechan, this is…”

“i know what it is,” haechan interjected impatiently. “just try it on so i can see if it’s worth the change.”

you were in no particular hurry to don the ivory set, especially considering you could sense the sting of his eyes boring holes through your bare skin, and you couldn’t believe he had asked you to wear something so raunchy. but there he was, restlessly waiting, his gaze expectant. 

your movements were begrudging. when you had actually willed yourself to wear it in front of him, your eyes never met his own. the outfit of his choice was thin as paper and form-fitting and hid little to nothing, the color of your flesh exposed in between intricate stitches of white silk and lace. you felt every bit as naked as you were. haechan very clearly liked what he saw. “maybe you aren’t entirely worthless,” he said, reaching out to brush his hands over your figure. you shuddered.

he stepped back, pulling out his wallet. 

“alright, you can take it off. for now.” his smile was unsettling. “i’m buying it.”

something told you that that was nothing to celebrate. after haechan paid, you left the stores for good, and he held the bag himself. “tonight,” he whispered in your ear. “put it on. wait for me. i’m not asking.”

your throat dried, but you nodded your head. what else were you to do?

the rest of your day had been spent rearranging your closet, contemplating heavily what of the clothes you had already owned you would keep, and where to put the ones you couldn’t bring yourself to discard. walking in, you almost never walked out. though it was a time-consuming task, you took delight in shelving your shoes and hanging your clothes. it was distracting. 

it lent itself to being a great escape for the trouble which you knew in the back of your mind would find you before the night’s end, and every now and then, you would fleetingly glance back at the singular bag you had yet to open, afraid of its contents.

you wanted to hide. more than anything, you wanted to disappear beneath a mountain of armani tops and miu miu skirts and gucci loafers, concealed and covered, safe from all that sought to hurt you. but this was the reality that had been chosen for you, even if you hadn’t chosen it.

night fell too quickly. you had prayed for the sun to take its sweet time (even though you were aware it would purely mean delaying the inevitable, no real answer), but she, too, had something to hide from; the moon and the night. you dressed yourself in the lingerie; you waited; your heart hammered against your chest and your stomach twisted.

haechan knocked merely to announce himself and strutted in with his usual confident gait. he took out look at you sitting at the edge of your bed and whistled. “you’re so obedient when you want to be,” he praised. “are you learning, sweetheart? what happens when you don’t listen to me?”

you had no clue what would have happened, not specifically, but you were in no way inclined to find out. 

haechan joined you on your mattress, sitting beside you. his warm hand wandered to your thigh and you felt your body lock with the wariness of a woman who had felt danger and recognized its emergence. “you’re still upset with me,” he pointed out. “for letting my friends touch you.”

your eyes closed, and you yearned to go anywhere but back to that moment. 

“believe me,” haechan whispered, his rough fingers creeping higher, farther. “i didn’t want to. but you weren’t taking me seriously. so much disobedience, so much attitude. i figured you would learn then. and like always, i was right.”

“haechan,” you called his name softly, light as a feather. “i don’t want to do this. what if my mom and your dad find out?”

haechan brushed his thumb against your bottom lip. “if you keep that pretty mouth shut, they won’t.”

you swallowed harshly. something had to work. “but you’re my brother…”

haechan completely dismissed your concerns. “exactly. i own you, remember? i can do whatever the hell i want with you. and if i want to fuck you til i can’t anymore, then i’ll do that.”

“i’m supposed to wait…”

haechan groaned. “your future husband doesn’t have to know.” 

he lay you down on your back and mounted you, his knees on either side of your body as he bound you to the mattress by your wrists. 

“he’ll lie to you, you know,” haechan murmured against your neck, pressing kisses there. “you can lie back and tell him that you’re a virgin. you think he’ll know the difference?”

you squirmed underneath his weight.

haechan straightened up and smacked your hardly clothed cunt, declaring, “that’s a myth.”

you gasped out. as he drew back, haechan admired the view of you sprawled out before him on the bed, the delicate designs of the lingerie teasing him just enough to evoke a carnal curiosity of a sort. your nipples were obscured, but he could see the upper and underside of your breasts, the soft, moistened surface of your stomach, and the plush, malleable flesh of your thighs.

“my god,” haechan said in amazement. “where do i even begin with you?”

you didn’t answer, but that wasn’t a surprise to haechan. you knew better than to spite him with words, and you knew they wouldn’t persuade him.

haechan paid attention to everything. that which he wanted to see, and that which he didn’t. and it was very obvious that you were anxious. “you don’t have to be nervous,” he assured you, his saccharine voice almost affectionate. “i’ll be gentle. relatively.”

his lips met your skin again, kissing your neck, your collarbone, your shoulders. he could have self-restraint when he so desired, and at the moment, he was summoning all of his willpower. he had this unwavering feeling that he would thank himself later.

you only wanted it to be over. there seemed no way around haechan getting what he wanted, and though there was nothing stopping you from confiding in your mother, you had doubts about her backbone; even if she heard your concerns, you feared that she would ignore them if it meant preserving her marriage. you figured that was why she had you placate her husband’s child.

haechan slipped his hand underneath the crotch of the lingerie and ran his fingers over your slit, testing the waters. dissatisfied, he slipped the fabric to the side and spat between your legs, using it as lubricant as he worked a finger inside. “need you to relax for me,” he murmured.

you weren’t sure how to relax; your body was uncalm and so was your mind, plagued with the reminder of how wrong this was and the memory of how crude the first touches your body received had been, both cementing you in a state of sheer weakness. you had always known, as every woman did, that your body was never truly your own, but this was unlike anything you had ever braced yourself for.

haechan didn’t try to uncover the thoughts in your head just yet. he had no use for them. to him, the more pressing matter was the heat between your legs, and he was more preoccupied with stoking the flames.

your body tightened around his fingers as he stuck in another, the pair steadily collecting your moisture as haechan tried to open you up for him. his eyes flitted over your body, tense as ever, and he shook his head, complaining, “you’re like a damn crab.”

you couldn’t help it. every inch of you was rigid. as you had come to know, haechan got this dangerous look on his face whenever a lightbulb went off in his head, and now was no different. he never withdrew his fingers, but he crouched between your legs to flick his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves.

that got you jumping.

haechan lapped at you as his digits moved inside you, working together to unravel you enough that you could take him. your hands gripped the bedding and your soft moans filled the rest of the silence that went untouched by the sound of your body slickening with unwanted arousal. you tilted your head and bit your lip, hoping to suppress your own noises. it was humiliating. 

haechan was finally able to include a third finger with ease, and by that point, he was confident he had done ample work, but he kept going. the thought of what you would sound like when you came for him entered his mind with no intention of vacating, and he decided he would see it for himself.

you could feel it, the fire building rapidly in your core. haechan sensed it too; your body was more restless and your breathing was heavier and some smaller details that weren’t lost on him. he smirked against your folds. “that’s it. don’t fight it, sunshine. just come for me.”

unable to keep your impending orgasm at bay, you trembled in climax at last, hiding your face in a pillow not only to smother your sounds, but to minimize your embarrassment. you clenched around his three, slender digits and your body eased despite yourself.

haechan withdrew his slick fingers from your dripping cunt and sucked them into his mouth with a hum of delight. “now you’re ready for my cock.” he didn’t wait for you to respond. you watched with a speeding heart as he undid his clothes and suddenly realized how much more exposed you had been compared to him, how you were vulnerable and waiting.

haechan grabbed a condom from the right side pocket of his fallen leather jacket and rolled it onto his hardened length. you squirmed when he got closer, but haechan was unfazed, spreading your legs back apart and steadily making his way inside.

you quietly whimpered, “haechan.” the stretch was unlike anything you had taken before, more intense then his fingers alone. you were wet enough to handle it, haechan had made sure of that much, but no preparation could compare when you were so used to being empty.

haechan took his sweet time. in a strange act of kindness, he extended his hand for you to hold, which you did. “i know,” he murmured, kissing your face. “i know, sweetheart. it’s okay. you can take it.”

you nodded your head, your hand never daring to leave his. haechan watched your face as he gingerly coaxed himself deeper, your walls expanding around his girth. soft, high moans escaped him as he filled you to the hilt. you met his eyes for the first time, having somehow mustered the courage, and for a minute, something kept you from looking away.

sooner than later, haechan had sheathed himself inside you completely, but he didn’t move yet. “there you go. i told you that you could take it,” he praised, cradling your cheeks in his hands. “does it hurt?”

most of your voice failed and you managed a tiny, “no.” on the contrary, there was an unusual pleasure in being filled by him. 

haechan grinned. “good. i’m gonna start moving, okay? nice and slow.”

you wordlessly nodded your head. 

haechan began to thrust in and out of you, dragging himself back and forth through your slick heat. the friction and the warmth of him was pleasant, and your pussy gushed around him with every movement. at the sound of your own wetness, you flushed and covered your face. 

“you’re so damn shy,” haechan teased. he gently pried your hand away from your face. “don’t hide. i want to see that pretty little face showing me how good i’m making you feel.”

you shook your head, ashamed. you had always been told to wait. to lie beneath him in this manner felt forbidden and you knew it as surely as you knew the sun would come, but the knowing did not cease the feeling, and the feeling did not sate the knowing.

it didn’t help that haechan had set a comfortable pace, his thrusts neither too fast nor too hard; they were long, deep strokes that filled you just right and allowed him to savor the way your pussy throbbed around and kneaded his cock for dear life. you were both making a mess of each other and you utterly despised it. 

haechan was perceptive to a fault and he knew your shame was likely most of what kept you quiet. had your parents not been home, though they surely wouldn’t hear you when their own rooms were many yards away (though that didn’t account for maids and servants with busy mouths), he would have been less lenient. “i hate quiet sex,” haechan grumbled. “talk to me.”

your face was hot and your ears burned. “i don’t know what to say.”

haechan’s grin was smug. “that’s an easy fix. tell me how much you like me inside of you.”

you did like the feel of him inside of you. more than you cared to admit. the feeling of being full pleased you more than you had anticipated. “i… thought it would be worse,” you murmured.

that amused haechan. “worse, huh? you thought i wouldn’t take care of you?”

“yeah,” you replied faintly. it seemed so unlike him, with how cruel he had been. 

haechan leaned lower and caressed your face with his thumb. “if you act like a woman, i’ll treat you like a princess,” he crooned. then, he tugged at your hair and pulled you toward him, not enough to cause you any pain, but enough to draw a startled gasp out of you and make his threat clear. “if you don’t, i treat you like a peasant. understand?”

the words leapt out of your mouth. “i understand!”

“good girl,” he sang, releasing you. “you could make some man really happy one day, you know that?”

you peered up at him. your mouth wouldn’t close. “you think so?”

haechan hummed. his hands cupped your breast and slowly but surely made their way to your hips as his thrusts slowed to a halt. the coldness of his rings made you shudder. “with practice,” he said, admiring the fucked-out looked on your face, his handiwork. “i see in you what my dad saw in my mom. you just need a little training. i could perfect you. would you like that?”

“well, i don’t…”

haechan cut you off. “just think about it. imagine all the men lining up for you to have you on their arm. your mother would stop nagging you. she’d stop comparing you to your friend, too.”

those images flashed in your mind as they often did, the way men would gawk and stare and compete among themselves, vying for your hand in marriage. they would do their best to impress your stepfather, going to war to prove their worthiness. it was easy to imagine after having it described to you on more occasions than you could count, because when chaewon talked, it was your job to listen and support her. your heart clenched.

haechan raised a brow, still smoothing his hands up and down your body. “did you think i didn’t know?”

you said nothing. haechan seemed to know everything.

haechan felt your body tensing beneath his hands, but if anything, it only spurred him on. “she gives you hell. you try so hard to please mommy, but nothing’s ever enough because you’re not her. and you compare yourself to every other girl in your circle because that’s what she does - pick you apart. so you sit there, ignorant in your ways, wondering if you’re just broken. i bet it’s exhausting.”

your eyes burned with unshed tears. “haechan…,” you trailed off weakly. every word cut deeper than the last.

“i could make you into something even better,” haechan whispered, his face so close to yours as his breath tickled your ear. when he said it like that, it sounded like a promise. “i could turn you into something beautiful that no one could resist and no one would deny. men will look at you and dream of making you their wife. mothers will look at you and back at their own daughters with scorn, wondering why they can’t be more like you. fathers will look at you and hope to god their son brings back a woman even half as wonderful as you could be.”

it felt like you were holding your breath and waiting to die. 

then, haechan abruptly pulled back, straightening himself. “or not.” he shrugged his shoulders. “you could just commit to a life of constant critique and never satisfy anyone. you could keep convincing yourself that you don’t care. but every woman cares. it’s in your nature.”

without warning, he started moving again, and it knocked the breath out of you. he was closer now, hot on the tail of release.

haechan’s voice was like silk. “do you want to be perfect, sweetheart?”

you needed it. you longed for it. you craved it more than anything. “yes,” you replied breathlessly.

“then, let me teach you how,” he said, simple as that. a great offer, void of charge. “let me make you perfect.”

you bobbed your head without hesitation, thoroughly sold, unconcerned with what you had given away. he was offering you everything you wanted on a silver platter and you had no intention of denying yourself the opportunity to be everything that everyone wanted.

haechan smiled, and for once, he had nothing to say, either. but his face said it all; he was pleased. 

after a few more moments, his thrusts became somewhat sporadic, and after a few moments more, he leaned down and sank his teeth into the smooth flesh of your shoulder as he came, stifling his soft moans. your lips parted, but you didn’t complain; you knew that much better.

he took a moment to gather his bearings, but once his mind had cleared and his legs remembered how to serve him, haechan pulled away and rose to his feet. “come on. let’s get you cleaned up.”

haechan did most of the work, scrubbing you clean and holding you up when your body felt too weak to stand. you almost felt okay when you were back in bed, better than what you had initially feared. rather than used, you felt restless, eager to know and eager to become.

“good night,” haechan said from your doorway. “get some rest. you deserve it.”

with that, he turned and left. 

you glanced down at your pristine, white sheets. there was a tiny red spot from where your bodies had been.

the day before your stepfather’s birthday, your mother took you with her to buy ingredients for his birthday cake. there was no need for her to go out, or to keep you in tow, for that matter, but your mother was nothing if not a perfect performer. 

“you look different,” she observed. 

that had your attention, and you immediately stood up even straighter than you already were. “do i?”

your mother hummed, pleasantly surprised. “yes. more sophisticated.”

grinning from ear to ear, you confessed, “i decided to try a different style.” 

your mother gave you a tiny smile of approval, placing her hand on your shoulder. “well, that’s excellent. it suits you better. i was starting to worry i’d made a mistake with you along the way somewhere. your daddy would be turning in his grave.”

your heart clenched at the mention of your late father, but you didn’t let it spoil the moment. 

turning the aisle, you mother asked, “don’t you want to know why i brought you here with me?”

you decided you would bite and guessed, “to spend quality time with your only daughter?”

your mother laughed. “to remind you of something. even being married to the richest man on the east side, i have certain things i do as a courtesy. i still have wife duties that my husband expects of me. when you marry a man of your own some day, you will understand. your husband will still expect you to raise his children, not a nanny.”

“ah,” you replied, bobbing your head. “of course, i understand that.”

“good. i don’t want you to hate me for being hard on you now, but i do it with faith that when the time comes, you’ll be prepared. becoming your mother has been the greatest blessing god has ever given me. he will give it to you, too.”

the inevitability of motherhood was something you had already long accepted, years before you could truly even understand what it meant. and maybe even now, you might not have totally known. “amen,” you agreed.

your mother pretended to be looking at her phone, checking her list of ingredients, but you noticed her glancing subtly at a man who had been not so discreetly throwing looks where you two stood at a shelf. she turned to you with a smirk that meant she was up to no good. “do you think he’s looking at you or me?”

you gawked and whispered, “mom, you’re married.”

“oh, please,” she mumbled, lightheartedly rolling her eyes. “marriage is security, honey. a man gets married to have an heir, and a woman gets married to have a man take care of her. it’s accomplished. it’s safety, not love.”

she sounded so sure. you thought of what chaewon had told you, about if her parents had married someone they liked instead. with time, maybe they could have grown to love each other. but first and foremost, marriage was a business proposal, and that was what you had always known.

as much as you loved your parents, you knew the love between them had always been scarce. they’d committed to their roles not out of love, but out of an obligation they thought had been given to them by god. your mother put it best. a man took care of a woman, and a woman took care of a man’s child. what he provided for, the woman nurtured. 

“besides, i’m just appreciating,” your mother replied with a dismissive wave of her hand. “more importantly, your stepfather and i are going on a romantic husband-and-wife trip together in the maldives next week for his birthday, so it will just be you, haechan and the servants in the house for two weeks. i trust that you can handle everything he needs. apparently, he really likes your cooking.”

“he’s never told me that,” you murmured. at first, you had just thought he liked to make you needlessly suffer.

“maybe he’s more the physically affectionate type. must run in the family,” she quipped. “oh, and i was told he took you shopping. how was that?”

you thought about it. to be fair, it had been a pleasant day. the staff were patient and kind and hard-working, and you had found all the new clothes, though some styles would be an adjustment, beautiful. there was the end of day, which you knew you could never mention a word of, but it hadn’t been what you dreaded it would be.

the answer you gave your mother was far less complicated, and you simply told her, “it was nice. he helped me pick out a few things. i guess we’re bonding.”

your mother put a hand over her heart. “oh, i’m so happy to hear that. i was worried that maybe you were too old to appreciate the gift of having an older brother.”

“honestly, i think i’m starting to appreciate it now more than ever,” you admitted softly.

“that’s beautiful. your stepfather told me you would eventually get along, but i had trouble believing it. well, i can breathe easier now,” she said, sighing with relief. “alright, let’s go get those damn eggs and get the hell out of here.”

that had been the intention, until she noticed someone whom she’d referred to as the director’s wife, most likely an affiliate of one of the charities she worked with. no sooner had she noticed her son was with her than she’d grabbed you by the arm and took you over to introduce you to him. to your delight, he seemed to like what he saw.

your stepfather’s birthday party seemed to be going as beautifully as any occasion intended to celebrate a man over half a hundred, part of which meant that most shares of the cake you and your mother had whisked together were quickly eaten by his nieces and nephews and the young children of the men he named friends.

it also meant that it was quite boring. in truth, the party was half celebration and half a fundraiser that welcomed many wealthy men and women across the country, supposedly meant to provide money for existing youth programs. whether or not it was being done in good faith, you knew better than to question. rather, you fulfilled your daughterly duties, greeting guests as they came.

throughout the course of the party, you received ample attention. it was weird, being recognized all of a sudden and directly approached. only last week, men seemed to whisper if they looked at you, and now businessmen in their thirties were flirting with you here and there, some older, and men with boys said how fitting you would be for their dear sons at home.

one man had talked your ears off about his boy child, a notable young fellow by word of how he’d been described, a decorated warrior. the man told you he’d speak with your father and perhaps try to arrange a meeting with the boy he’d promised could protect you and any children you birthed. though you doubted your stepfather would be too impressed, you’d shown him your best smile and told him how delightful it sounded.

that being said, you were of the opinion that it wasn’t as bad as you’d made it out to be. you were pleased with the attention, it made you feel confident, and you accepted the unpleasant parts as simply coming with the territory.

when you finally gained a moment of respite towards the middle of the party, you found a troubled chaewon at the end of a long table at the back of the grand hall. even she, for all her bubbliness, seemed over it. “you look thrilled,” you remarked ironically.

that brought a smile to her upturned lips. “i was just thinking.”

you were all ears. “yeah?”

“the human body is so smart and so dumb. we have seals underneath our fingernails to protect the nail bed from infection, but women still die giving birth.”

you blinked. then you laughed. “you chose a fine place to discuss this matter.”

chaewon smirked. “am i wrong?”

“the human body was never ordained by god to be immune to pain, you know,” you told her, not unkind. “it was ordained by him to sustain it. pain keeps us human, and more importantly, it keeps us alive and breathing.”

“a pain men don’t share,” chaewon murmured. 

you finished in a heartbeat, “a pleasure and privilege men don’t share too.”

chaewon groaned, but she wasn’t upset, not seriously. “you sound like my mother. and her mother.”

you raised your shoulders. “well, maybe there are lessons to learn from the wise and more experienced.”

chaewon scoffed. usually, she agreed with you on these matters, as it was all she had ever known, but you could sense a tension within her like no other. it plagued her. “look at you getting so smart.” she sighed, softening. “i guess i’m just scared of giving birth. i can handle the marriage stuff, i’ve always dreamed of it. but the second my parents start mentioning grandchildren and the baby talk, i want to disappear.”

you grabbed her hand, sympathetic. you may not have shared it, but it was a valid concern of hers, to be fair. “you’ve suffered a lot of loss in your family because of it. it makes sense that you’re scared,” you whispered, thinking of the late aunts and cousins she’d mourned. “but your mother was fine, wasn’t she? you might not have to share that fate. god will protect you.”

chaewon nodded her head. it was true, her mother had experienced little to no complications when she’d birthed her and her older brother. her eyes shone with hope as she replied, “you’re right. their fate isn’t mine.”

you squeezed her hand and smiled proudly. “there you go.”

something caught chaewon’s eye. her gaze drifted from your face and her grip on your hand tightened. when you heard a familiar dreamy sigh part her lips, you knew instantly what she had seen without looking. “i don’t envy you, you know.”

your brows furrowed. “what do you mean?”

“i’d hate to be his stepsister. i’d struggle to keep my hands off him,” she explained, probably conjuring up fantasies in her head. 

you faltered for half a second, but swiftly composed yourself when you saw haechan coming.

“my dad sure knows how to bore somebody,” haechan said when he came your way. “you ladies look lovely tonight.”

chaewon offered him her seat so that he could sit between you both. his words got a laugh out of her, though with how she was looking at him, she probably would’ve laughed if he joked about folding laundry. “thank you. we’re probably not the target audience. the older crowd seem happy.”

“oh, trust me. they are,” you droned. 

haechan turned his head at you, grinning. “getting hit on by the fifty and up club, sister?”

you almost laughed. “nearly so. they seem to just think i’m a perfect match for their sons for now.”

haechan was amused. “i guess they stop by you first then make their way on over to me to tell me that the future of greatness is in my hands.” he smiled and curled an arm around chaewon gingerly. “my feet are tired. would you mind getting me something to drink from the bar?”

chaewon rose to her feet without wasting time. “sure. what should i get you?”

“just tell them it’s for me. the guy’s a longtime caterer. he knows what i like.”

chaewon bobbed her head and somehow, even as she scurried away, it was with refinement and elegance and grace.

and then you were alone. haechan sighed, leaning back in his chair. “are you enjoying the attention?” he asked, glancing over at you.

you smiled. it felt different than before. “yes. it makes me feel beautiful.”

haechan didn’t skip a beat. “you are beautiful. with a little sophistication, you will be the most beautiful woman to ever grace the earth.”

sophistication. yes, refined and elegant and graceful. “where do i lack?” you needed to know. 

haechan brushed a strand of hair behind your ears. “i spent a month with my family on my father’s side when i was little. his brother’s wife has many daughters. one thing i heard her tell them all the time was, ‘it only takes a moment to rouse a man’s excitement, but his fidelity? you will work at that for the rest of your life.’” haechan smiled. “do you know where i’m going with this, sweetheart?”

you thought about it. “i have to be more than just a pretty face.”

“exactly,” haechan sang. “things with no value go in the trash. men want a wife they can brag about. you’re beautiful and your stepfather is one of the most influential men in the world. notable achievements. what else?”

“i graduated top of my class,” you said, remembering the years of hard work that you had put into achieving strong academics.

“an educated woman,” haechan said. “good. what else?”

“i’m good with kids,” you blurted. 

haechan was grinning. he liked the sound of that. “amazing. men want children to continue their legacies. for that, they need a good woman to manage their households. what else?”

“i can sing, sew, cook, clean…,”

“you know what you’re missing?” haechan interjected. he didn’t give you a chance to answer. “submission. for all the good things about you, sweetheart, you do have a mouth on you. it could do you some good to be more docile.”

maybe he was right. you had never considered yourself particularly unruly, but you were no idiot, and you knew when things were worth questioning. like the true meaning of this party, for that matter. but that did not mean you had to be the one to question it, and sometimes, closing your eyes and looking the other way was smarter.

chaewon was returning, her short black hair bouncing as she walked with that perfect smile. “here you are,” she said to haechan, handing him over a glass.

“thank you, chaewon.” he took a tentative sip, judging for a moment, then hummed in satisfaction. “just the way i like it.”

your parents left the morning after the party, and haechan had sent home all the housekeepers, leaving you with only yourself during the day while he tended to his father’s affairs at work, in his absence.

with the housekeepers gone, there would be things to do around the house, and you spent a morning compiling a list in your mind. the laundry would need to be taken care of. the main rooms managed, if there were guests. haechan liked coffee in the morning, and he would expect to come back to dinner already waiting, no matter how late he returned home, which was sometimes long after the day’s end.

you managed to perfect your routine in seven days. wake up early enough so that his coffee was ready to grab on his way out. on wednesdays, he went in later, so you would need to wake up even earlier to prepare breakfast. he liked familiar foods for breakfast but more variety for dinner, so that was a factor when you were shopping. laundry was a sunday affair, and you had to ensure you didn’t use the detergent that irritated his skin.

one day in particular was different. haechan hardly went in from thursday to sunday, and today was friday, so he was home. over breakfast, he said, “yuta nakamoto, one of our japanese investors, is coming over this afternoon. if you don’t behave yourself, it’s not just me you disappoint, it’s our entire family. and your father.”

the mention of your father made your heart clench. “i understand.”

“see that you do.” he stood, taking up his plate. he set it in the sink, but didn’t wash it. he was expecting that of you. “breakfast was good. you’re handling this well.” with that, he turned and walked away.

after cleaning the kitchen, you went upstairs to freshen up and make yourself pretty. more often than not, you chose makeup that was subtle and complemented your natural features. peering into the closet that was brimming with clothes haechan had hand-picked for you to wear, you settled on a dress that was flattering without being too formal.

it was maybe two hours before you were ready. you went to haechan’s door, dressed in an outfit he had bought, smelling like the lotion and oil you had anointed yourself with after shower. your fist tapped his door.

when he came out, he was dressed differently too, as if he was preparing to go to work. his eyes flitted over your body. you waited for his approval with bated breath. it was only for a few seconds, but you swore it felt like minutes. “you look beautiful,” he said. his voice was absent of awe, but his eyes were appreciative.

you smiled, relieved. “thank you,” you said. “will he be here soon?”

“soon,” haechan said, checking his watch. your mind wandered back to the watch with the leather band you had seen while shopping with chaewon. he went downstairs, and you followed him.

true to his word, yuta nakamoto did arrive shortly after. the two of them exchanged greetings.

“let me take your coat, sir,” you said politely. 

“oh, thank you.” yuta smiled, shrugged his coat off, and handed it over to you. you put it on the rack.

“this is my stepsister,” haechan introduced. he told him your name. 

you grinned. “can i get you something to drink, mr. nakamoto?”

“just some water would be wonderful,” he told you. “the sun’s blazing out there.”

haechan made himself chuckle. “the summers are getting hotter.”

as you went to fix yuta nakamoto a glass of water, you could hear him talking to your brother as they stepped further into the foyer. “your sister is very well-trained,” he said.

haechan laughed. this one had less of a performative quality. “we lees like everything in top tier condition, from our women to our products.”

the afternoon passed smoothly, and the meeting was a pleasant affair. you didn’t do much of anything, but you made it a point to be available. the two of them talked about business, and haechan was his usual charming self, flashing smiles and saying all the right things. you followed their dialogue but didn’t comment.

it was maybe about forty five minutes until yuta nakamoto left and you returned his coat to him, helping him slip it back on. he looked relaxed and confident in the matters they’d discussed. you closed the door behind him on his way out, and turned to haechan who looked pleased himself. “you were perfect,” he said. 

your eyes sparkled. “really?”

haechan had a twinkle to his eyes as well, admiring his handiwork. “you were poised. servile without being too obsequious. he noticed.”

he’s proud of me, you thought, your heart feeling light. “thank you,” you said.

“for what?” he was literally asking. 

“for making me better,” you whispered. “for showing me how to be a proper woman.”

haechan ran his finger over your face. “you’re welcome,” he said softly. “your father would be proud.”

it was the single most powerful thing he could have said. you really hoped so. nothing mattered more, nothing at all.

when the days passed, you hardly noticed the time lost. there were many things around the house that needed to be taken care of, and it was by no means a small estate, so your work was often cut out for you. you told yourself it was nothing you couldn’t bear on your own. you were the daughter of the most powerful man in the country, and this was your first test to see if you could handle the privilege and honor. all you had to do was keep haechan happy. it wasn’t as if you had children to raise, so it ought to have been simple enough.

and at moments when you had spare time to think, your mind wandered to what haechan was doing at work, if the company was giving him a hard time. here and there he would come home particularly agitated, but you knew nonetheless that he would prosper. you applied the same principle; if he was not able to bear his father’s responsibilities in his absence, there was no way he could run the company when the baton was passed.

that was nothing to worry about though. haechan was smart and competent. he had purified you with ease, made you the woman your father had known you could be, and it had taken him little to nothing. he was a man that you could depend on, and for that, you wanted to prove that he could rely on you to do what he expected as well. you had to.

the day had become night, and darkness settled around the house. you lit candles in the kitchen to create the feeling of an intimate moment. haechan was on the phone as you set the table. “oh, that’s wonderful. how long are you staying?” you watched him with curious eyes as he took his seat. “no, no, not at all. i can handle the company. it won’t burn down if you take a few more weeks off.”

so that’s what it was. your parents were extending their getaway.

“it is beautiful,” haechan said, sounding as if he was agreeing with something. “stay. you deserve it. make sure you appreciate how blue the water is before you come back and see murky everything is in the city.” haechan laughed. “yes, she’s well. she’s plating dinner as we speak. she’s been doing a remarkable job.” 

your heart fluttered. you set the utensils down in a careful order. he’s talking about me.

“alright. call me when you have lunch. have a good night,” he said at last, hanging up. “pass me the salt.”

it was an equal distance away from him as it was from you, but you handed it over regardless.

he shook some grains into his food. “you know,” he said. “we’ve got a lot of time together. looks like mom and dad aren’t coming home until next month.”

“i heard,” you said. “did you ask them to take pictures of the water?”

“no,” haechan said. he picked up his fork. “i’m sure your mom will anyway. she’d take pictures of the lake we see every day leaving the house.” he laughed at himself.

it occurred to you then that you hadn’t left the house at all since the party, not even to go shopping. your mother might have liked to go out herself sometimes, if not out of a genuine preference for doing things herself than out of sense of duty to perform it, though your stepfather himself did not seem to expect it of her. he cared less about who did the shopping and how and more about what time dinner would be prepared.

you had spoken to chaewon since that night, but every exchange was sparse and fleeting. you were too busy as of late, and certainly she had her own affairs to attend to.

“would it be okay if i invited chaewon over someday?” you asked. haechan hung out with his friends plenty enough. he never said so, but why else would he come home so late smelling of alcohol?

“chaewon,” he repeated. haechan hummed, mulling it over. “fine. you’ve been good.”

you beamed. it would be good to see her again. “thank you,” you said, remembering his lessons. submission.

haechan chuckled. “don’t thank me yet. nothing is for free.”

after dinner, you washed the dishes, wiped the table, and then at last withdrew to your bedroom to cleanse yourself. you had chosen a silky black nightgown to wear to bed, but first anointed your skin with lotion to make it especially soft for him tonight.

haechan appeared in your doorway moments later and welcomed himself inside. “are you ready for me, sweetheart?” he didn’t wait for you to answer. his hands cupped your breasts through your gown, eager to feel what was his.

it did you no good not to be ready; he would take what he wanted regardless. you tensed a bit at first, but willed yourself to relax. the contact took some getting used to, but you didn’t want to displease him. perhaps by the time your future husband was due to take you, you would be prepared enough not to be so fidgety. “yes,” you whispered.

oddly enough, haechan didn’t speak right away. for a moment all you could hear was his breathing and the sound of your nightgown rustling as he kneaded your breasts through the fabric. your lips parted ever so slightly when his thumbs brushed repeatedly against your nipples.

“still so restless. guess that means i just have to fuck you till you get comfortable.” his hands dropped to his sides. “but not tonight. get on your knees.”

your brows furrowed, but you did as told.

“look at you,” he crooned, brushing his fingers through your hair. “right where you belong. you look so pretty.”

your lashes fluttered. “thank you.”

“don’t thank me yet,” he said for the second time. “take my pants off.”

he hadn’t decompressed for the day yet beyond dinner, so instead of his casual wear, he was sporting the clothes he’d worn into the office. you undid the belt buckle and slipped it off, undid his fly, and let his pants fall down to his ankles.

you had been about to reach for his underwear too when his hands gripped yours. “suck,” he said.

your lips tugged. “but you’re not…”

a smack rang out in the air. “did i tell you to comment on my state of undress or did i tell you to suck?”

you reached up to hold your sizzling cheek. “i’m sorry…”

haechan was annoyed. “don’t be sorry. do what i told you to fucking do. if you can’t please me, you’ll never please any man.”

you pressed your lips against the outline of his half-hard cock through his boxers. you hadn’t expected this to be what he wanted, you thought it would be more like the first night he took you, but you supposed there were many ways to please a man, and a good wife should be skilled at them all.

“there you go,” he said. “lick me. do it like you’re fucking starving for it.”

your tongue darted against the dent in his pants, licking, swirling, sucking, your world narrowing to the taste of cotton and your own saliva. you wished you would have known the sort of favor he wanted. you might have looked online for some tips, anything that would temper this sense of aimlessness that accompanied your fear of arousing disappointment rather than lust. 

haechan moaned, though, his fingers tightening in your hair with need instead of violence for now. that noise was a light in the dark for you, and you followed it, repeating whatever stroke of your tongue had given him pleasure with a touch more of confidence. the floor was rough against your knees, but you would bruise them both a million times over if it meant he was satisfied. because if he was satisfied, it meant you were doing something right.

“just like that. good.” his words were breathy. a wet spot had formed in his pants from the combined dampness of your saliva and his precum.

you could still feel the faint burn on your cheek where his palm had whacked you, but the pain had taken a backseat to his pleasure, so it was a distant thing in the moment. the first tests started at home. you would give favors many times once you were married, so it was best to get good at it early. thank goodness haechan was such a thorough teacher, keeping you disciplined.

“fuck, baby,” he groaned. you figured his body was of a more sensitive nature, so even through his underwear he must have felt these sensations sharper than most.

his cock had reached total erection, and you had felt it growing against your skin with every warm touch. you remembered how it had felt inside you at first, the size so overwhelming you had bled after. it hadn’t hurt per se, but the stretch was so unusual you had nothing to compare it to. and haechan had been courteous and kind, so it was not as unbearable as you had imagined.

more importantly, your body had given him immense pleasure, and you were of a mind to keep it that way, thinking of how you would drink less at the next gala and eat better than was normal for you and wear more of the clothes and undergarments he so loved, as you were memorizing the colors and outfits and fabrics that were pleasant to his senses and tastes…

“take my cock out,” haechan said. “i want you to suck me now. and i don’t want to feel any teeth.” your hands reached for his boxers and tugged them down to reunite with his pants. his cock sprung free, already leaking and aching for you to the finish the job. you took only a little bit into your mouth at first, intimidated by the remaining length. how could this all fit into your mouth?

haechan didn’t offer answers, but he did offer moans, which in a way was an answer in and of itself. you kept that motion up for as long as you could, but when you started to take him deeper, your throat rejected it and you gagged. you pulled off him, tears burning your eyes.

when haechan sighed, you feared he would strike you again, but instead he grabbed one of your hands and made you curl it around his cock. “keep your hand here.” he moved the other beneath it to the bottom. “move this one up and down. like that. good. now try it again.”

your lips sealed around his cock again, your dominant hand stroking his cock all the while, the two working in tandem to deliver the high he was seeking. you focused on your breathing more than anything, because it felt like that was where things started to go wrong.

haechan’s hand cupped yours, demonstrating to you how to squeeze his cock, and from there it was relatively smooth sailing. every now and then you would go up to let yourself breathe through your mouth, but you tried not to do it too long, or too often, lest it disturbed him.

“there you go. you’re getting the hang of it,” he said. you could see the way his chest was rising and falling, falling and rising. “look me in the eyes while you suck my dick.” you did. in the beginning it was an awkward thing, meeting his gaze when you were doing something so intimate, but you didn’t dare look away. he had given you a task, and you intended to see it through no matter what. everything else had to be temporarily set aside.

haechan reached down to tug the top of your nightgown and expose your breasts to him, the sight stimulating him even more. he squeezed them as he done before, only this time without the barrier to keep you from noticing how warm his hands were. his fingers brushed your nipples. it was almost distracting, but you summoned all your willpower to keep yourself focused on what was most important.

the sound of you sucking him was wet and lewd, but you supposed haechan had like that, because here and there he would mutter things under his breath about how beautiful you looked and sounded on your knees before him. you remembered he’d said he hated quietness during intimate acts. perhaps the next time he took you you should make yourself especially loud for him. he would appreciate that.

“i’m gonna come,” he grunted. “faster.”

you obliged, setting a new pace that was quicker and harder to maintain than the other, but it wasn’t so bad; in a few moments, he would be finished. in a few moments, you could say you were beginning to acquire another skill, and only haechan could speak to what extent, but you were hopeful he would be content…

“fuck,” haechan hissed. he’s liking it. he likes it. you hoped he would finish soon. you felt your mouth growing tired, and you didn’t want to anger him by stopping now of all moments, now when he was so close to the finish, right there…

haechan came at last, spilling into your mouth with a shrill sound and an abrupt forward drive of his hips. his eyes snapped closed and he used your mouth until every bit of his high began to fade.

when they opened at last, he was demanding. “swallow.”

the taste was bitter, but you made yourself do as he bade you, swallowing his warmth until there was no more. only then did he withdraw from your mouth. 

“now you can thank me,” he said. “thank me for letting you suck my cock.”

your eyes darted away awkwardly. “thank you for… letting me you suck your cock.”

he grabbed your chin. “look at me,” he barked. “now say it again.”

you met his eyes. “thank you, haechan. for letting me suck your cock.”

haechan smiled. “good girl.” he fixed his clothes. “i expect breakfast tomorrow.”

“yes, haechan.”

“and you need more practice, but not tonight. we’ll work on it some more later.”

“okay, haechan.”

satisfied, he walked away.

you woke late. most days you would have set an alarm to gather you out of your sleep, but you must have been so tired last night that you’d forgotten. you scrambled out of bed, making a quick effort of washing up before you scurried downstairs to the kitchen. this would be one of those days where haechan wanted an entire meal instead of just coffee.

that said, you started with his coffee first, then hurried to get every ingredient out of its place. maybe haechan would wake up late too. maybe he wouldn’t notice.

you were pulling a pan out of the cabinet when you heard footsteps descending down the stairs. your heart raced.

haechan called out your name. you couldn’t even see his entire body yet, but you could hear him. “why don’t i smell bacon?”

“i’m… i’m working on it,” you said, glancing over at the raw bacon on the counter.

“you’re working on it.” far too soon, haechan made it downstairs and crossed his arms when he saw you standing there, nothing going except the coffee. “shouldn’t you be about done by now?”

you couldn’t meet his eyes. “i woke up late.”

“you woke up late.” haechan laughed. “you woke up late?”

you nodded, looking at the floor.

your shoulders went cold when he began to approach you. he seized your face abruptly and made you look at him. “can you not do one simple thing? you think a man wants a wife who can’t even have his breakfast ready when he wakes up and his dinner ready when he gets home?”

“no,” you whispered, eyes blurring with shame. “i’m sorry, haechan. it won’t happen again.”

he smacked your face, the same side that he’d struck last night. “see that it doesn’t,” he said. “how many times do i have to tell you? where do things with no value go?”

your voice was a whimper. “in the trash.”

“and are you trash?”

“no, i’m not trash...”

“as long as you’re a part of my family, damn right you’re not,” haechan said. he released you. “pour me a cup of coffee.”

so you did.

after haechan had had his coffee,  he took your face in his hands and asked, “you know i only do this because i love you, right?”

you sniffled. “really?”

“of course,” haechan crooned. he brushed the tears from your eyes. “why would i bother trying to fix you if i didn’t love you? i want what’s best for you, baby. and sometimes what’s best for you is a little discipline. i don’t know what you would do without me. no one else is going to be this patient with you. the rest of the world will you chew you up and spit you back out.”

you nodded. “i know.”

“good. now dry your eyes and get back to work, okay?” he went to go sit at the island.

that day made you realize that you couldn’t afford to keep making mistakes, especially ones that you were beyond capable of preventing. to be the best that you could be, to truly live in your father’s image, you had to go above and beyond in exceeding expectations.

it would make your father proud. it was making your mother proud too, and you had thought she was impossible to please. and it made haechan proud, as your brother and as your teacher, the lines blurring as they should when it came to the realization of the perfect girl. at times, nothing mattered more.

over the coming weeks, as the responsibilities came and went and came and went again, you found yourself drawn back to those words he’d said, like a vessel that wants to drift away but is anchored where it floats. you know i only do this because i love you. it had been so long since you heard anyone say that. your father not since his passing, your mother not since god knows when.

i only do this because i love you. you hadn’t known, but now that you did, the thought kept to you like a spirit housed to a man. there was such strangeness. you had never before thought words of that nature would come from haechan and onto you, but perhaps you didn’t know him as well as you thought. but things were different than they had been some months ago. did he change, or did you change? did you become a person deserving of love, or did he become a person willing to express it?

you supposed it mattered little now. i love you. you had his love, his care, and you knew what you had to do to maintain it. now that you knew you had it, you would do whatever it took to keep it. no price was too high.

after that day, you began practicing to please haechan in the future so that you would be less of a disappointment. you ordered a toy so that you could train your throat to take him better. it was hard at first. every time you did it your mouth instinctively wanted to gag. but you had to perfect it, you had to get it right so that you would be perfect for him.

you practiced arching your back in the mirror, wanting to get the curve of your spine just right. you practiced perfecting your moans so that they were loud and breathless enough for his ears. you spent hours analyzing pornography to enact the things you saw other women do. the next time haechan took you, you had to be the very best you could.

 failure was not an option. 

there were weeks before chaewon finally had enough time to fit you in her schedule, and when the rolled around that you knew she would be coming over, you were terribly excited.

she was about twenty minutes out when haechan entered your room and came up behind you where you were bent over your bed, scrolling. “i need something from you real quick, baby,” he said, his hands drifting underneath your skirt.

“hyuck, no,” you said softly. “chaewon’s gonna be here soon.”

clearly it was the wrong thing to say. “no?” haechan repeated. “no?”

you swallowed. “i only meant…”

he didn’t care to hear your explanations. “did you just tell me no?”

“haechan, please, i…”

“i think you’re confused about who’s in control here,” haechan said. he spun you around to face him. “do i belong to you?”

“no….”

“do i answer to you?”

you sniffed. “no, haechan…”

“so then why the fuck—” he started, his face getting closer to yours. “—do you think you get to tell me no?”

“i don’t think that, haechan, i-i made a mistake, i’m sorry-”

“you’re the fucking mistake if you think you have the power to tell me what i can or can do. if i want to fuck you right now, i will. if i want to fuck you in front of chaewon, i will. if i want to fuck you on the streets of tijuana and make you a public spectacle, i fucking will.”

your eyes burned.

his hand wrapped around your throat and tightened there. “if you hang out with your friends, that’s because of me. if you wear a pretty dress you like, that’s because of me. if you get married, that’s because of me. if you breathe, that’s because of me. do you understand? nod if you do.”

you nodded your head urgently, eyes wide.

haechan released your throat. “good. now turn around.”

he took you there against your bed. it hurt badly, but you knew that you deserved it, so you didn’t complain, and when he was done, you silently retreated to the shower to wash away the traces of what had happened from the eye, even if you could still feel the ache within you.

your neck bruised from where he had seized it into his hand, and that was something that wouldn’t simply wash away with water. you changed into a turtleneck to conceal it, fixed your hair, and made yourself smile. this was how he would want you to look.

chaewon looked even prettier than the last time you saw her. “my brother’s getting married,” she announced when you both got settled in your room. 

“really?” 

she nodded, grinning from ear to ear. “yes, really! it’s official as of last night. he really likes rosie.”

“i couldn’t tell,” you said. jaehyun had been with her for the better part of eight years, and only now did he think to drop on one knee. “i mean, what took him so long?”

“i mean, my brother is a little different than most guys. he takes stuff slow. that’s his thing.” chaewon shrugged. “the guy’s a total romantic.”

“i mean, but don’t you think that’s weird?” you asked. “if a guy waited eight years to propose to me, i’d think he was ashamed of me or something.”

“if he was ashamed of her, he wouldn’t marry her at all,” chaewon told you. “or meticulously pick out what ring to propose to her with, or where to do it, or rehearse his lines in his room every day for weeks in advance.”

“i guess,” you conceded. “i just think that’s a long time.”

“forever’s a long time too, and that’s how long people hope to be married,” chaewon said. “what’s an eight year slice of forever?”

“you say things so weirdly.”

“it’s a talent of mine,” chaewon chirped. “you’re invited, by the way. obviously. your plus one can be whoever you want, but i really hope you bring haechan.”

you rolled your eyes. “give it up to god, chae.”

“i can’t!” she clasped her hands together. “please, please, please? for me? i really want him there.”

“why? it’s not even your wedding.”

“obviously,” she agreed. “if it was my wedding, he’d be there as the groom.”

your stomach clenched. “but like… what do you even like about him? you can’t just marry him because you think he’s handsome.”

“he is so handsome,” chaewon said dreamily. “but he’s also very witty and intelligent. i like talking to him. you don’t understand the importance of good conversation, of talking to someone who knows how to respond to you and meet you where you are.”

he was witty. sometimes. “so… you like him because he’s handsome and can hold a conversation?”

“and he’s a perfect gentleman,” she breathed.

“i guess that’s reason enough.”

chaewon grinned. “and if you invite him as your plus one, i might get the chance to get to know him even better.”

“our brothers barely even like each other,” you reminded her. why, you had no idea, but they just never seemed to click as well as you and chaewon had. “why would my brother even go to jaehyun’s wedding?”

“because you’re gonna ask him nicely,” she retorted. “please?”

you exhaled a breath. “i’ll mention it to him later.”

“yay!” chaewon threw her arms around you. “you’re the bestest best friend ever.”

the day passed in a blend of talking, gossiping, and laughing. before you knew it, you had all but forgotten the incident earlier, and remembered what it felt like to be alive, even if for a short while.

at night, you and chaewon showered, and fell asleep together in your bed.

it must have been late when you suddenly woke again with a sudden thirst. you rolled over in your bed and felt the emptiness beside you and remembered that chaewon was supposed to have been there. maybe she’s gone to the bathroom.

you opened the door and made for the stairs. but as you started the descent, you started to hear… noises. strange noises. noises that were unfamiliar in their familiarity.

“shh, baby,” you heard haechan’s voice whispering. “you don’t want to wake her, do you?”

you couldn’t see chaewon at all, but you faintly heard her say something that sounded like, “no, i’m sorry. you just feel too good.”

haechan chuckled. “don’t be sorry. just be quiet.”

your chest was so tight you thought you might die.

their voices might have been quiet, but their bodies weren’t. you could hear the sound of him driving into her, of her hands scrambling for purchase, of their breathing finding a rhythmic sync, of haechan taking a pleasure that had nothing to do with you.

and it felt like the wind had been knocked out of you.

it was too much. you forced yourself to turn away and creep back up the stairs as quietly as you had come down. you returned to your bedroom and threw the blankets over yourself, your pillow dampening bit by bit.

chaewon was chipper the next morning, very chipper. before she left, she offered to help you make breakfast for haechan. you waited to see if she would mention their tryst, but she didn’t at all.

it was supposed to be a secret then. something between her and him that you weren’t in on, that you weren’t a part of.

when she left, you went to your bathroom and began to wipe off the concealer you had used to hide the bruises haechan had given you from her. they were darker than they had been yesterday. she didn’t want him. you knew that to be a certainty. if she knew what it truly was like to be his, beyond marveling at his handsome face and witty words and willingness to pull out a chair here and there, she would crumble like a house in a tropical storm.

but you, on the other hand, were strong and enduring. you could take it. you could take anything he gave you, not just when it was pleasant, but when it burned. you could take it and know that it was beautiful, that it was a display of love, strength, and growth.

chaewon had been born shining. she had no idea what it was like to be pressed into a diamond, to earn everything beautiful about herself. she had no idea what it was like to be shaped by his hand. she had no idea what it was like to be his creation, to be exactly as he intended.

but you did. and that was why you knew no one else could satisfy him, even if he made the mistake of seeking out other temporary delights. no candy was as sweet as the one made purely by your own hand, because it was yours.

you knew you had displeased him yesterday, a slip of the tongue that would never happen again, but you had pleased him the day before, and the day before that, and the day before that. you planned to do so for eternity. haechan, forever yours, you, forever his, in a condition of perpetual devotion.

and forever started today. “hello?” came the voice on the other end of the phone, gruff and confused.

“hi, jeno,” you sang.

“this is a surprise,” jeno murmured. you could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “change your mind about me?”

“not at all, no,” you said. “do you think my friend chaewon is pretty?”

“chaewon,” he repeated. “do i think she’s pretty? i think she’s gorgeous, everyone knows she’s gorgeous. why?”

“what if i told you that she leaves bible study every wednesday at eight, stops at becky’s at eight twenty, gets gas at eight thirty, and she’s home by nine.”

there was a lull of silence. “why are you telling me that?”

you continued, “she has a bad habit of looking at her phone while she’s walking, she wears noise-cancelling while she’s waiting in becky’s up until the moment she gets back in her car, and sometimes she forgets to lock it.”

jeno said your name. “is this a fucking joke?”

“nope,” you chirped. “dead serious. she’s that stupid.”

“i thought she was your friend.”

“i thought she was too,” you said. “but i thought wrong.”

jeno laughed. he didn’t ask what happened. he didn’t care. “so, let me get this straight. you guys had a cat fight, and now you want me to… what? brutalize her in the becky’s parking lot?”

“i don’t care what you do,” you said, “as long as she suffers. deal or no deal?”

“damn,” jeno said. “i’ll think about it, princess. i gotta go, though.”

“think about it quickly.” you hung up. wednesday was approaching.

you didn’t agonize over whether or not he would do it. guys like jeno couldn’t resist themselves. instead you busied yourself with tasks around the house, keeping haechan happy, keeping him satisfied, keeping him yours.

the next time you saw chaewon was in the hospital. “what happened?” you asked as you came to her side, brows stitched. 

“i was leaving becky’s,” she said, her voice small. she looked small. her lips and cheeks were bruised, and there were other marks scattered across her figure. and yet somehow she was still annoyingly fucking beautiful. “but then some guy came up behind me when i was leaving… and… and…” she couldn’t continue. her eyes became wet. 

you squeezed her hand. “hey, hey. it’s okay. it’s okay. you’re safe now.”

her bruised lips were quivering. “it hurt so bad.”

“i know,” you whispered. “did you see what the guy looked like?”

chaewon shook her head. “i didn’t see anything. one second i was alone and the next he was there. i tried to get away but he was too strong. and the cameras out there haven’t been functioning in ages.”

“he won’t get away with this,” you told her. “do you understand that?”

chaewon nodded. 

you smiled. “good. i have to go. my parents are coming back today and i want to be home before they do. i’ll come back to visit you again tomorrow. will you be okay?”

“i think so,” she whispered.

“alright. i love you, chae.”

“i love you too,” she whispered. 

first problem taken care of. at home, you went straight to haechan’s room. the door was already open so you let yourself inside. “haechan?” you called. 

haechan looked up from his phone. he had been sitting on his bed, scrolling. “hey. chaewon okay? she’s not in too bad shape, is she?”

“who gives a fuck?”

haechan paused. then he laughed, perhaps thinking it was a joke. “you…? i mean, aren’t you guys best friends?”

“not anymore.”

haechan tilted his head. “you guys get into a fight in the two seconds between her coming over and now?”

“i know what you did,” you announced levelly. 

haechan was quiet a moment. “what are you talking about?”

“don’t do that, haechan. i heard you,” you said. “i heard you with her in the kitchen.”

haechan sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “look-”

you cut him off. “i know i made a mistake. i know you were angry at me. i understand.” you stepped closer, shutting the door behind yourself as you entered the room entirely. “i know i deserved to be punished. but was what i did so wrong that you had to replace me?”

“sweetheart, i-”

“you didn’t do it to hurt me,” you said. “i know you didn’t, because you didn’t want me to know. if you wanted to hurt me, you would have wanted me to see. so then you must truly have meant to replace me, to find someone better than me…”

“if you would let me-”

“but she’s not better than me!” you snapped. “she’s not! and i wish everyone would stop treating her like she’s some perfect princess just because she smiles prettily when she’s hardly a real woman! a real woman wouldn’t fear giving birth! a real woman would trust god!”

you knew you were getting out of line, but you needed him to hear you. this was worth any punishment he could conceive.

“i shouldn’t raise my voice. strike me if you must,” you told him, standing in front of him now, between his legs, perfectly within arms reach. “if you would choke me, i’m ready.” you tugged your shirt over your head to give him better access to your throat. “but she doesn’t deserve you. she doesn’t have what it takes to be your woman. she wouldn’t do these things for you. i know because i’ve spent almost my whole life since first grade by her side and she’s always expected everything to be easy. she has no idea how to face anything she thinks might be hard.”

you brought his hand to your neck, where the bruises were fainter now, but still visible, the colors blooming across your neck. “she wouldn’t see this as what it is,” you whispered, not once looking away from his eyes. “a gift. a honor. a privilege. she would think it’s monstrous. but it’s not. it’s beautiful. it’s a milestone.”

you smiled. “that’s why i had to teach her a lesson.”

“baby,” haechan said slowly. “what did you do?”

“i had jeno pay her a visit.”

“what?” 

you nodded. “please don’t be angry,” you whispered. “i did it for you.”

haechan’s hand didn’t fall away from your throat, but it was very loose. “for me?”

“yes. for you. for us. because i love you. because you said you loved me.”

“i do love you,” haechan said, running his spare fingers through your hair.

“so why did you do that?” you asked. your eyes were misty, and soon your cheeks were dampened. “am i not good enough? did i do something wrong? i can fix it, haechan, i swear. i can be better. you just have to tell me. i’ll do anything.” you dropped to your knees. “i can fix it, haechan,” you said again, peering up at him desperately. “let me fix it. please. i don’t want to be trash.”

“how do you plan on fixing it, baby?” haechan murmured.

“i’ll show you,” you said. you began to tug down his pants. “i’ll do better this time. i promise. i’ve been practicing, like you said.”

haechan looked genuinely surprised. “you’ve been practicing for me, baby?”

“yes,” you admitted. “i wanted to make you proud.”

“i’m so proud of you, my girl,” haechan said. he patted your head. “show me what you can do.”

my girl. his girl.

at first, you mirrored the last encounter together where he’d had you on your knees, kissing him through his boxers. he had liked that, you remembered. you spread your tongue along the fabric and sucked the head as if there was no barrier.

you continued that just long enough to get him worked up before doing away with the boxers and discarding them into oblivion, but you paid the head of his cock no mind. instead you dragged your tongue again now along his shaft, up and down, down and up. you heard his breath hitch, and that was all the encouragement you needed. tonight, you were determined to get this right. you couldn’t lose him to someone else, least of all her.

the next time you licked up his shaft, you started another descending path, except this time you were peppering sweet, soft kisses, a gesture that was tender and loving, more than he knew. your lips found their way from just shy of his head to his balls. you took one into your mouth gingerly, not wanting to overstimulate him.

“fuck,” haechan swore. “you trying to kill me, baby?” your giggles were stifled. while your mouth was preoccupied with that, you stroked his cock in your fist. he was so hard now, it never took long. you could feel the blood burning within your hand, his cock hot and stiff with excitement. that’s it. that’s how much he wants me. that’s how much he needs me.

whether he knew it or not, he needed you, just as you needed him. you could see it clearly now. the two of you were fated, and now you had reached a point where it was truly undeniable on your part, where the truth stood tall, a roaming giant, every resistance being crumbled underfoot. the past never mattered. you could forgive his sins if he forgave yours.

those days where you had not yet understood what it earnestly meant to be a woman, where you had believed he was a terror that some entity had cursed you with, those were the days of your naivety at its purest. it was like if chaewon had seen those marks on your neck; she would think they were some an immortal act, she wouldn’t realize it was a gift, a token of love, of care, of how much haechan wanted to see you prosper.

at last when you felt the growing tension in haechan’s body amass to a peak, you let yourself take the head of his cock into your mouth, though without any particular haste. haechan shuddered, the sensation worth the anticipation and then some. “oh, shit.”

seeing him react so strongly made your body burn with urges of its own, but those were secondary. what was paramount was making him understand, proving to him that you were the woman he had made of you.

“you taste so good, hyuck,” you briefly pulled away to tell him. “i missed your cock so much.” not a moment later, you were back to sucking him.

haechan groaned. “yeah? i can tell you miss it. you really have been—holy shit—practicing.”

you moaned around his cock, and it must have done something, because the noise that came out of him made your thighs tense.

“don’t stop,” haechan gasped. “fuck, just like that, baby, don’t stop, you’re so good.”

you were determined to unravel him, to please him more than anyone ever had and ever could, to stake your claim to the man you knew with your whole heart was yours by right, even if you’d never hear the words come out his mouth. this was evidence enough. the way his body responded to you, the things you were making him say, that was a power of its own, and power was the most important thing in this world.

and if men were the heads of power, but you had dominion over his body, what did that say about you? 

haechan said your name. he rarely did, it was usually a petname, something sweet and meaningless, but this was yours. “god, i’m gonna fucking come.” it was fun to see his body speak for him, to watch it convey things that words like pleasure never really could. his hips jolted as his cum emptied inside your mouth, hot and salty and meant for you. even as that was happening, his hands were clenched into the sheets, and his voice was the most beautiful thing you had ever heard. 

you swallowed it all, not letting a single drop go to waste, and when you were done, you remembered your words. “thank you, haechan, for letting me suck your cock,” you whispered, meeting his eyes as you licked some of his release from your lips.

haechan blinked silently. then he laughed. “fuck. you’re so welcome, princess.”

you got up from your knees and sat on the bed. “can i ride you?”

haechan raised his brow, amused. “you think you can handle that?”

“i know i can.”

“confident,” haechan murmured. he lay back. “sure, ride me. but if you get tired and ask me to take control, i swear to god…”

“that won’t be a problem,” you promised.

haechan chuckled. “if you say so. grab a condom.”

“we don’t need it,” you said as you undid your bra and skirt. “i’m not afraid of the consequences. i’m not afraid of what it means to be a woman.”

haechan’s face fell. “baby, if you get pregnant, that could get us in a world of trouble.”

“i’m not afraid,” you insisted.

“and that’s brave,” haechan said, “but imagine what your mom would think.”

“i don’t care,” you blurted. “i want to marry you and have your babies.”

“whoa. okay,” haechan said, visibly reeling. “we can do that, i promise. after we’re married. deal?”

you nodded. “okay. deal.”

haechan exhaled a breath. “great. now go get a condom out of that drawer and show me how much you want my cock.”

you did as told, fetching a condom from the supply he had in his nightstand drawer. as you were rolling it down his shaft, you whispered, “can we pretend?”

haechan smiled. “yes, princess. we can pretend.”

you shed the very last of your clothes and mounted haechan’s lap. “i want your cock so badly, hyuck.” you sank down onto him, inch by inch, bit by bit. “don’t you feel it?”

haechan moaned. your pussy was gushing around his cock, wet and warm and tight. his hands went to your hips. “shit, babe. all that from sucking me off?”

you nodded. “i like making you feel good.”

haechan closed his eyes. “i like that you like making me feel good.”

nothing could have been better or more important. you would have done this every day if he so asked. you would have gotten on your knees for him, or perhaps your hands and knees, or your back, or bent over whatever surface he preferred that day, or mounted him as you were now, none of it mattered. you were a good woman, and so you could please him whenever he wanted, wherever he wanted, however he wanted it.

surely chaewon couldn’t say the same. chaewon was just a pretty face. beyond that, she was empty. you pitied whatever man would realize that only after he had made her his wife, but that man would not be yours.

“do i feel better than her?” you asked.

haechan didn’t hesitate. “so much better,” he said. “i don’t know what i was thinking, baby. i could never replace you. you’re perfect.”

that warmed your heart. “you mean that?”

“of course, beautiful,” haechan said. “look at you. look how good you’re taking my cock right now. you know exactly what you’re doing, don’t you, sweetheart?”

“uh huh,” you agreed. that’s right. i know what he likes.

“nobody’s ever made me feel the way you do,” he said breathlessly. “you were made for me.”

for you, by you. “i was made for you,” you echoed, bouncing on him harder. your boobs followed suit.

“you’re so fucking beautiful,” haechan swore. he took your boobs into his hands, holding them, kneading them.

you smiled coyly. “you’re very handsome.” you liked the way he looked beneath you, his skin flushed, his chest heaving, his hair beginning to stick to his face as the lust made even a room as spacious as this one grow hot and stuffy. you liked the way his lips parted for breath, the way his eyes fluttered when the warm sensation of you got to be too much, the way his brows jumped when your pussy throbbed in response to his words.

it went beyond attraction. it satisfied you, assured you, and rewarded you all at the same time. it was your north star, that guiding light, the thing that let you know that for as long as it was bright you were not a failure.

“you feel so good,” you whimpered, your eyes fixed to his face. you stitched your brows together. “i love your cock, i love it, i love it so much! i don’t want anyone else, hyuck, just you, no one else matters like you do. i’d do anything for you.”

“anything?” haechan murmured.

you nodded. “anything, anything at all. you said i’m beautiful, but i’m only beautiful because you made me so.”

haechan groaned. “and don’t you forget it.”

“i won’t,” you promised. your skin was scorching, every breath more intense than the one before it. “i won’t forget. i’m in debt to you, i’ll repay it however you want me to.”

haechan reached up and grabbed your throat. “repay it by riding me like you mean it.”

your eyes widened. “yes,” you whispered, and immediately began to ride him faster. 

haechan grunted. his grip on your hips tightened as you increased your pace.

“yes, yes, yes,” you moaned. your body was moving on top of his wildly, eagerly, desperately. it was as if he had something that no one else could give you, something that you couldn't even give yourself if you tried, but was still unique and purely your own, and no one else could taint it. something like a purpose.

haechan lay there, a dazed look in his eye as he watched you ride him like you were worshiping your new god, and in a way, that was exactly what you were doing.

“tell me it feels good, hyuck,” you said. “tell me i belong to you.”

“i can’t even put into words how incredible you feel,” haechan breathed. “you’re all mine, baby. all mine.”

“i want you to claim me,” you told him, peering down into his eyes. “i want you to show the whole world that i belong to you. breed me, hyuckie. fill me up with your love and show everyone that i’m yours.”

your words made him swear. “you’re asking for something real dangerous, princess, you know that?”

“i don’t care,” you insisted. “all i care about is you.”

“if i breed you, i’m not just gonna do it one time,” haechan said, tightening his chokehold just a bit. “i’m gonna do it again, and again, again, until your pussy has given me every last baby it can. you understand that?”

“yes,” you gasped. “i understand. i’ll give you as many as you want!” it truly didn’t matter to you. you had long accepted the inevitability of motherhood, and you would gladly produce as many babies as he dreamed. that was what you were meant to do, and that was what you would do. and what would say that you were haechan’s like his baby growing in your stomach, the proof of it growing larger and larger by the month until it was a truth that you could cradle in your hands?

you had dreamed of it so much lately, being the mother of haechan’s children, as many as he wanted. marrying him and bearing his name, as you never took on the lee name when your mother married in, too attached to that of your father’s. maybe getting a place of your own, somewhere with a view even better than the one here. raising your sweet little baby, something you and haechan would create together, while he officially took on his father’s position within the company.

nothing would have been sweeter. you would have given up anything for that. soon enough, it would no longer be a dream, but a reality. you imagined inviting chaewon to your wedding, making her watch as haechan swore a vow to you and not her, as he promised to love you until death did you part. you imagined her willing herself to be polite, forcing herself to say that she was happy for you as you had done tirelessly for so many years.

that day would be about you, not her. it would be entirely yours. you would be wearing a stunning dress, surrounded by your loved ones, walking to meet the love of your life at the aisle’s end, and the only thing wrong was that your father would not be there to hand you off.

but you wouldn’t let that ruin anything. because the wedding itself would be proof that you had done it, that you had become the woman he always knew you would, and that was what mattered. then you and haechan would be off to your honeymoon, and he would make love to you with no barriers, and you would give him a child, and everything would be perfect. “when do you think we can get married?” you asked him.

“uh, in a couple years,” haechan projected, loosening his hold on you. “i just have to get settled into the company first, sweetheart.”

you beamed. “my ceo,” you murmured. “whenever you come home stressed, i’ll make sure you come home to something to eat, and then i’ll suck your cock until you come down my throat.”

haechan’s dick twitched. “holy fuck.”

“or you can fuck me, if you’d prefer,” you said. “even if i’m asleep, even if i’m tired, i’ll be yours.”

“there’s no one else on this planet like you, you know that?” haechan asked.

somehow you smiled even wider. “likewise, hyuckie. and even if there was, i’d still choose you.”

haechan simpered. “you’d choose me no matter what, wouldn’t you?”

“yes,” you gasped, a particular nudge of his cock inside you stealing your breath for a moment. “you’re everything to me, haechan.”

“i know, baby,” he muttered. “i know.”

if you were already wet to begin with, you were dripping now, and that might not have been enough to accurately describe your state of arousal either; your pussy was leaking so much you could feel it dripping past your thighs and onto the sheets, staining his bed. and with how vigorously you were riding him, the sound of your bodies meeting was just as intense.

you had never gotten like that before, even haechan seemed amazed. “you’re so wet,” he whispered incredulously. “jesus christ. you’re fucking soaked. because of talking about babies?”

you whimpered. “please give me your cum, hyuck, i need it so bad, i want your baby, i want everyone to know you own me, that your cock was so deep inside me it made me see stars. please, please, please.”

“if you keep talking like that, i’m going to see stars,” he hissed.

you didn’t stop talking. partly because you knew he liked it, and partly because you were so far gone that talking deliriously was about all you could really do. you moaned loudly. “haechan!” you cried out. “please, i’m gonna come on your cock, i want us to come together, oh, please, please, please!”

your thighs had begun to ache from the effort of riding him so hard and for so long, but you paid it no mind. even when your body tired, you refused to stop. not before he was finished. you were stronger than that.

it was a good thing that the servants were returning tomorrow, and not a second before. you were being so loud that someone on the opposite wing would likely have been able to hear your cries.

“i’m gonna come,” haechan said, driving his hips up to meet your thrusts. “i’m gonna come, baby, fuck—”

he spilled, not into you, into the condom, but with such an intensity that you could almost have convinced yourself it didn’t matter. you felt the way his hands gripped your hips to anchor himself, the way his body convulsed beneath you, and you heard him cry out and shudder as the orgasm took over his body, as for a moment he surrendered all sense and all control to the ecstasy that scorched through every corner of his body.

that was what undid you, and as he was still coming down from that godly high your body had given him, you clamped down around his cock, chanting, “yes,” over and over again until your hips finally stilled.

the room was quiet for a moment, or close enough to quiet. your panting and the fan whirling was about all the noise you could hear. 

you lay against haechan’s chest. “promise me you’ll always choose me,” you whispered. 

“i promise, sweetheart,” haechan said softly, curling his arm around your waist.

the two of you stayed together like that, skin to skin, heart to heart. your eyes fluttered closed and you might have even slipped away if you didn’t hear the footsteps coming up the hall. footsteps that had no reason to be on this corridor.

haechan sat up and patted your arm. “go in the closet. hurry up.”

you scurried away, plucking your clothes off the floor, and hid inside the closet. 

haechan was shuffling around in his bed, hurriedly redressing himself from the sounds of it. that went on for a few moments until a knock sounded at your door that made you jolt.

“it’s open!” haechan called out.

“hey,” came his father’s voice. “we’re back. your stepmom went up to the room to get some rest, but i’d thought i’d come over and let you know.”

“cool,” haechan said. “nice trip?”

“fantastic. very beautiful place. beautiful girls too. you would have liked it.”

haechan laughed. the sound made your chest tighten. “oh, i’m sure.”

“where’s your stepsister?” your stepfather asked. “i peered in her room, but she wasn’t there.”

“uh, i don’t know. she left a little while ago. probably hanging out with chaewon.”

“chaewon is in the hospital.”

“yeah, i know,” haechan said. “she probably went to go see how she’s doing or something.”

your stepfather sighed. “you’re supposed to keep a rein on her.”

“i have,” haechan insisted. “didn’t you notice how pristine the house looked when you walked in?”

“i suppose so,” came his father. “alright. i’m gonna go lie down. that flight got the better of me. let your stepsister know we’re back.”

“will do.”

you heard the door click shut, and released the shakiest breath.

“you can come out now,” haechan said. 

you stepped out the closet, still naked, your clothes in your hands. “keep a rein on me?” you echoed, smiling. “is that what you’re doing?”

“mmhm,” haechan hummed, pulling you back into his arms. “bend over.”

you draped yourself over his bed.

“see?” haechan threw his hand against your ass, making you cry out in surprise. “that’s the rein.”

the next day, you went to see chaewon again, bearing gifts that your mother had gotten for her while on the trip. it seemed like more than the things she had given you, but you focused on dropping them off, saying a few nice things to your best friend, hovering beside her for a few moments, and then leaving. haechan was at home. you missed him already. you wanted to feel his body against yours, to hear him whisper praises in your ears.

as you turned to leave chaewon’s hospital room, jaehyun was there in the hallway. your eyes flickered in surprise but you smiled pleasantly. “hello, jaehyun. i’m sorry, i didn’t see you there.”

jaehyun’s face didn’t change. “i know what you did.”

your smile didn’t fade, not yet anyway, but you tilted your head, brows stitching together. “i’m confused.”

“i know what you did,” jaehyun repeated. “you hurt her.”

you laughed. “right. with what bits?” you gestured over your figure. “i think i’m ill-equipped. you’re not. maybe you did it.”

jaehyun drew near you so quickly you missed it in the time it took you to blink. “don’t you ever,” he started, “accuse me of something so egregiously foul and incestuous as that when you’re the one who’s sleeping with your brother.”

your shoulders went cold. how did he know?

“don’t you realize that your brother will fuck anything with a pulse?” jaehyun asked. “i’ve seen the way he looks at you, and i’ve seen the way you look at him. it’s disgusting.”

“you-”

“be quiet,” jaehyun hissed. “when i came to see her last night, she was crying. i asked her what was wrong. she said, ‘god has punished me for my sin.’ i told her, ‘that’s nonsense, chaewon. what did you do?’ she said, ‘i slept with someone before i was married.’ obviously, i was not happy to hear this, but she was going through enough, so i simply asked her, ‘chaewon, who was it?’ she avoided my eyes, she wouldn’t look at anything but the tv. finally, she said, ‘haechan.’”

“what does that have to do with me?” you asked. 

“everything,” jaehyun said, glowering. “you’ve always wanted to be her. chaewon’s too blind to realize it, she only sees the best in people. but you have always resented her for having everything you didn’t. and when she slept with your precious brother, well, that was the last straw for you.”

“you have no proof of this,” you said. “stop wasting my time with theories.”

“let’s see if your parents will think it’s just a theory.” jaehyun turned and walked away.

needless to say, when you walked into the main room, you knew the day was far from over.

everyone was joined on the couch: your mother, who looked distraught, your stepfather, who looked distressed, and haechan… who just looked distant.

when your mother saw you, she called your name. “come sit. now.”

your heart thudded, but you had braced yourself for anything they could throw at you. you were prepared to fight. 

“jaehyun says that you set up that poor incident that happened to chaewon,” she said worriedly. “did you do that?”

well, your cat was out of the bag. “yes.”

your mother furrowed her brows. “but why? she’s your best friend, and she’s a good girl.” 

“she’s a stupid cunt and she has no idea what it takes to be a woman. she thought she deserved him,” you blurted.

she looked taken aback. “so it’s true then.” she grasped her dress. “you and haechan have… a relationship.”

“yes,” you confirmed proudly. “we love each other.”

scoffing, your stepfather said, “this- this is despicable. haechan, she’s your sister.”

haechan said nothing.

your mother sighed and began to massage her temple. “i don’t understand how something like this could happen. i knew you two were getting closer, yes, but for heaven’s sake, i thought you were just finally bonding.”

“we have bonded,” you insisted. 

“you have sinned. there is nothing holy about this joining. to lay with another man before marriage, and not only that, but your brother…”

you almost rolled your eyes, “he’s my stepbrother. we’re not related!”

“you need to watch your tone,” she said, pointing her finger at you.

“you don’t understand,” you whispered. “haechan and i love each other, and we’re going to get married and have children together.”

your mother looked like she was going to faint. she was gripping the pad of the chair for dear life. “jesus christ. what did you just say?”

your stepfather barked, “then you will have disgraced our entire family. do you have any idea the shame that the news of this affair would bring to our names? we would be a laughing stock in the media. we would lose investors. the company would be in shambles!”

your mother reached for your arm. “this must stop now.”

“no! can’t you hear me? we’re in love. we’re in love. and i won’t let you take that away from us!”

“are you out of your ever loving mind?” she snapped. “you cannot be in love with him, he is your brother. and you sure as hell cannot marry him. mark my words, no one will bless it.”

“yes i can! he said so himself. he said we’ll get married when he gets settled within the company.”

“settled within the company,” your father echoed. “there will be no company to settle into if this were to happen, do you hear me? i wanted to come home, relax, announce my retirement and pass let my son take my place. instead i’m bombarded with this utter nonsense. what’s with all this talk of marriage anyway? haechan has never shown interest in marrying any of the girls i’ve paired him up with.”

“haechan likes women with value,” you told him firmly.

“value!” your stepfather laughed, as if there was something funny that you were missing there. “is this a joke or something?” he turned to face his son, who had been silent on the matter thus far. “haechan, do you want to be ceo or not?”

“yes,” haechan finally spoke up. 

“then you have to stop this incestuous nonsense. i will not have you ruining the reputation of the company i’ve spent decades building up from nothing because of some silly fling you decided to have with your stepsister of all people. i can turn a blind eye to many things, but this will not do.”

to your horror, haechan nodded his head. “i’ll stop. i swear, dad, on everything, i’ll stop.”

relieved, your stepfather sighed. “good. that solves that issue. we’ll announce it today, and the party will be on the third sunday of the month.”

you gawked. “what?”

your stepfather stood, not so much as looking at you. “i have business to attend to. come find me in my study if it’s important.” he started down the hall.

haechan met your eyes, but he didn’t say anything to you, and they were only on you for a fleeting moment before he went after his father. “actually, dad, i wanted to talk to you about the company. i had some ideas and i thought i would run them by…” his voice trailed off the further he went.

you sat there, blinking rapidly, trying to comprehend what had just happened. “what…”

your mother turned sympathetic. “oh, honey. i’m sorry.”

“he lied,” you whispered. only last night, he had held you in his arms and told you that he would always choose you. he had promised. 

she didn’t ask what about. she just held you. “i know, darling,” she said. “believe it or not, i know how you feel. you think you’ve done your very best to make him happy, but something else comes along and then that something else takes priority. and you wonder what you did to make him love you less.” she patted your back. “that’s just how they are.”

“why?” you whispered, tears rolling down your cheeks.

“i wish i knew, honey. i wish i knew.”

over the next couple of weeks, you barely saw haechan, which was easy given the size of the house, but still jarring when you had spent the past month glued to his side, fulfilling his every need. and now he didn’t need you. you had exhausted your value.

you just didn’t understand it. did all that time together mean nothing to him? every word, every touch, every promise? one day, he was holding you like you were the most precious thing he ever seen, and the next he tossed you away like… like trash.

never had you ever felt more embarrassed. he had been so quiet, his eyes darting back and forth between whoever was speaking as you vehemently defended your love, while he didn’t say a word. not when it mattered most. not when it was time to stand for you.

you had officially become worthless, and you weren’t even sure you knew why. after everything with chaewon went down, you could have sworn that you had made it right. that he had chosen you. that you had proved to him you could be everything he wanted and more. that you would do anything for him. but he didn’t want it.

the other day, you had tried to send a text to chaewon, but it didn’t go through; jaehyun must have told her the truth. now you were truly and utterly alone.

you felt alone too. on the second week before the party, you barely stepped out of your room altogether. all you did was lay in bed and weep, while haechan was probably planning what initiatives he was going to take as the new chief executive. your mother came to your room to check on you, but you didn’t feel like talking. she had to make the maids send up your meals, but you barely touched them at all.

it wasn’t food you were hungry for. you could barely eat or sleep. it was haechan. i thought he loved me, you said to yourself, alone in your mind, a dark, cold void where every thought reverberated. he said he loved me. he said he would always choose me. he said there was no one else like me. he said we would get married and then start a family. he said i was perfect.

you must have replayed that night in your mind over and over a million times since it happened. it had been magical, the most magical. all your hard work and studying had paid off, and it was the most confident you had ever felt. it had given you something to believe in, something larger than just yourself.

but it was over now, dead and gone, and to never come back, as far as haechan was concerned. he had given that up, because when faced with the choice of you or the company, he had chosen the latter, sacrificing your love, your devotion, your faith. sacrificing everything he had told you to be.

the bruises that had been on your neck were mostly gone now, but you could still see them clearly as if they’d never left, as if it was just yesterday that his hand had been around your throat. you wished he’d do it again, just to show you that he still cared. the longer he was away, the more you started to forget what it was like to feel his hands on your body.

you missed him. you felt like you hated him, and yet you missed him so much. you missed the warmth of his body beside yours, you missed the way his fingers would thread your hair, you missed the way his voice sounded when he was right there, and you missed the way it felt when he said something that made every punishment feel like it was worth it. but even if you couldn’t get that, you would have settled for his anger, his frustrations, his violence, his cruelty.

it would have been better than nothing. right now you had nothing but silence and distance, and you were certain that someone tearing you open from limb to limb would still hurt less.

the day of the party, you almost had to be forced out of bed. you wanted to stay home and rot, but your mother said it would reflect poorly on the family if you were absent. resigned, you did your makeup, covering up the days of sobbing, and donned a gorgeous red dress that haechan had bought you months ago.

as you gazed at your reflection in the mirror, all you could thing about was that day at the mall. you look the best in bold colors, he had said. well, here you were in red, the boldest of them all. today, he would see you. today, you would make sure it was impossible for him not to.

the venue was rippling with businessmen and their ladies, as to be expected. you sat at the high table with the rest of your family, as to be expected. normally at events like this, you would chaewon by your side to help you through the monotonous segments… but that ship had sailed.

it was entertaining enough. you mostly watched haechan, who was socializing deftly, here one second, and there the next. he was very charming. everyone looked glad to hear whatever it was he was saying. they were putting their trust in him, their time and their faith, just as you once had. you all are so silly, you thought. he’s a liar. he lies. he’s lying to you right now.

the future of greatness was in his hands, he had said. his father might as well have put his money in a safe and melted it.

it was amazing, though, how haechan could say things he didn’t mean with such conviction. he could make a believer out of anyone. that silver tongue of his could forge promises like no one you had ever seen and say them almost as though he truly believed them himself. you were convinced that it had to have been some kind of superpower.

or maybe it was insanity of some kind, but regardless, it made you realize that maybe this whole time you hadn’t really known him at all.

speeches were given and forgotten. there was food and drinks and laughter. so much laughter. people were just laughing for laughter’s sake, and you were sitting there trying to hide the fact that your entire world had been upturned. somehow you felt even lonelier here than you had alone in your bed.

“now this was no hand-me-down,” your stepfather was saying in the middle of his speech, his hand clasped on haechan’s shoulder. “my son has this position because despite all odds, he’s proven that deserves it more than anyone.”

everyone was cheering and clapping. you clapped your hands together too, watching attentively. “that was beautiful,” you said, standing up. “would you make if i said a few words of my own?”

your stepfather’s smile tightened ever so slightly, but haechan’s face didn’t seem to change at all. your mother reached for your arm, but you were determined.

“i won’t be long, i promise,” you added. 

“of course. why not,” your stepfather replied begrudgingly. “everyone, my beloved stepdaughter would like to say a few words to celebrate her stepbrother’s success.”

more cheers, more laughter, but it all faded as you went up to accept the microphone. as you stood beside haechan, the closest you had been to him in weeks, you saw your stepfather whisper something to one of his men, who then proceeded to take a position not too far from you, his eyes watching and waiting.

“first of all, i just want to start off by saying congratulations, brother,” you told him, grinning from ear to ear. “i’m very happy for you. it seems that you’re finally getting everything you wanted, and you know what? you deserve it.”

haechan looked so composed, so proper. “thank you, sister.”

glancing out into the crowd of people before you, you continued, “when i heard that my brother here would be the new chief executive of our family’s excellent company, i was not surprised. who would be a better candidate than the man with this much grit? i think he could turn a tree into a diamond if he really wanted to.” everyone laughed. “i believe that the future of the company is in amazing hands. haechan is the kind of person who knows what he wants and how to get it. once he has a vision for something, he will mold it and shape it in his palms until there is nothing but the best version of it.” you could feel haechan’s gaze on you from the corner of your eye, but you didn’t glance at him. “it’s truly inspiring to watch. i feel as though i’ve learned a lot from him. to never accept anything but the best for myself. to always strive for perfection and aim to have what the next person doesn’t. that’s what truly makes this company great - the ability to distinguish it from its competitors, to exist in a realm of its own. if you like what my father has done with the company so far, then you should get excited. because lee haechan is going to make it even better. thank you.”

as everyone clapped and hollered, you handed the microphone back to haechan and returned to your seat without a backwards glance. you had said what you needed to say.

“let’s give my sister another round of applause for those kind words,” haechan said, smiling, but there was no depth to it. “isn’t she the absolute sweetest? even though she exaggerates a little bit. making me sound like ten times the man i am.” laughter rang out in the room.

that might have been the first thing he’d said all night with some truth to it.

the party dragged on with no end in sight, and you found yourself missing chaewon once more, the feeling harder to drown than you thought it would be. you supposed it was only natural. she had been a close companion of yours since the two of you were very young. you wondered if she missed you too, or if she hated you now, just as you hated haechan.

you were nursing a drink in an empty corridor to get away from the noise when you heard footsteps approaching. oh, brother, you thought.

a male voice you didn’t recognize said your name. “hey. that was a wonderful speech back there. you have a way with words.” when you turned around, you had to look up to see his face. he towered over you, tall and imposing. he smiled and outstretched his free hand. in the other he was holding a glass of champagne. “i’m johnny.”

you already knew that. you may not have recognized his voice, but you recognized his face. johnny suh. his father used to do business with your stepfather before he retired and had johnny take over, much like what was happening with haechan now. he was also one of the shareholders. you gave him your name and shook his hand, though it was unusual for men to do that with the women they met.

“thank you for coming to celebrate my brother,” you said politely.

“of course,” johnny replied, pleasant as one could be. “my father is hoping i do business with him. but i thought i might have sensed some… tension between the two of you a moment ago.”

“tension?” you echoed, feigning ignorance.

johnny shrugged. “well, i don’t know. i just thought it was peculiar that your stepfather had placed someone on your end of the platform. like he wanted to be prepared in case you said something… improper.”

your smile was tight. “my stepfather is a cautious man, is all.”

“i’m sure,” johnny said. “i didn’t mean to pry. i just thought that maybe there was strife, or maybe you wanted the position for yourself.”

so little had you ever even considered that an option that you were certain he was jesting, but when you laughed, he didn’t join in. “you’re serious?”

johnny didn’t even blink. “i’m not a man intimidated by a woman’s success. if you did take it, i think you would do well. it’s about time that more women assume positions of power in this world.”

he was speaking of foreign, forbidden concepts. “that sounds… scary.”

“of course it does,” he agreed. “but if there’s no pioneer, it’ll never happen. the grounds will never flourish. my father taught me a lot about business, but my mother taught me about life and judgment. my father was always focused on the end result, but my mom saw how to get there.”

you took that in. “how old are you?”

“thirty-one this year.”

looking at his hand, you saw there was no wedding band on his finger. “you’re not married.” 

“yes, society tends to be a bit more forgiving to men in that regard,” he replied, chuckling. “do you have any plans to get married soon?”

the thought of getting married stirred up some odd feelings, and memories, within you. “no. well, my stepfather has a list.”

johnny laughed. “no one wants to marry off their father’s list. mine has one too. my next date is still postponed indefinitely.” he took a sip from his champagne glass. “isn’t there any guy you like?”

“not anymore,” you murmured. 

that made johnny smile. “then can i take you on a date?”

well, he was very forward. you did like men like that. it had been a long time since you’d gone on a date with a guy, and maybe going somewhere without traces of haechan would finally expel him from your mind. “sure.”

“perfect,” johnny chirped. “would you prefer to be indoors or outdoors? vanni’s has some of the best italian food i’ve ever had, but the pier is a great place to watch the sunset.”

outside. you needed to be outside again, connect with nature or something. that month alone with haechan had felt like an eternity, and the only people you had seen that weren’t him were chaewon and one of the foreign investors. “the pier sounds lovely,” you decided.

“the pier it is,” johnny said. the lighting in the hallway made his eyes sparkle. “if you give me your number, we can arrange a time that works best for you. wear comfortable shoes.”

you exchanged numbers and he promised to text you, wishing you a good night before pardoning himself, and you found yourself wondering what you had gotten yourself into just now, but a part of you wanted to untangle yourself from anything that was tied to haechan. the other so badly wished you could go into his arms and be held by him and take in his warmth.

but that was not an option anymore. he had given it up, he had deemed it worthless in the face of his father, the place where it might have mattered most. if he could choose other things, then perhaps you could choose something that wasn’t him as well.

that being said, you still couldn’t be certain if you had made a good choice. you couldn’t be certain of anything anymore. you laid in bed that night, the dress and makeup gone, alone with your raw self, or at least whatever was left of her. you had relied on haechan, in more ways than you knew. in trying to build a structure around him, you inadvertently built a system that upraised him as the very sun that kept life as you had known it together.

it never seemed like a bad thing. even now, it hardly seemed like a bad thing; it felt like you were lost, like you were drifting, and you needed him to keep you anchored, but he was gone now, so you were trying to do it yourself, clumsily, spitefully, desperately, but it was just too different.

tonight of all nights, you really missed chaewon. it was your fault she wasn’t there, you knew that. maybe everything was your fault. you had never regretted anything more; you honestly felt at least three shed skins away from the person who made that choice, removed enough to feel remorse, but not so much that you didn’t still feel angry at the thought of haechan with another.

and yet even that had wounded you less than him choosing the company, because he hadn’t even tried. maybe if he had put in some effort, you could forgive that, but he had sat there like it had nothing to do with him, like it wasn’t his life, like it wasn’t yours.

you weren’t sure when you fell asleep. you never really were. every night you lay awake, thinking about haechan, crying more often than not, and it felt like mere seconds between then and the second you roused, not even remembering the moment that sleep took you.

the cycle, unbroken as it had been for weeks, persisted even into the day of the date you were going on with johnny. you debated whether or not you even wanted to go, but you knew that what you were doing now was not helping, so you made yourself get up. it was just a few hours. the bed would be there when you returned.

concealing the dark circles under your eyes made you think of concealing the bruises haechan had left on your throat even though those were long gone now and you realized this was not too different. they were marks haechan had left on you, even if one was more indirect than the other.

you made yourself pretty, the way he would want you to be, even if it wasn’t for him, even if it was for another guy. you remembered what it felt like to get his approval for an outfit. for a second you almost let yourself wonder if he would approve of this one, but you had to finish getting ready before johnny got here.

the final look was so different from the version of you drowning in bed that you felt like you were posing, an imposter in your own skin. your perception of reality was fragile lately.

johnny picked you up yourself. he was outside in a car waiting and got out to open the passenger door for you when he saw you coming down the steps. “hey,” he greeted. 

“hi,” you said back. 

his eyes seemed to take you in, and you knew your efforts weren’t for nothing. “you look beautiful.”

“thank you.” he didn’t look bad himself. johnny was an attractive guy, and he had dressed with the weather in mind. “you look rather spiffy yourself.”

“well, i tried for you.” once you were inside, he shut the door behind you and went around to get in the other seat.

you watched him buckle his seatbelt. “you didn’t have to do this. you could have just sent a driver.”

johnny glanced over at you, not yet starting the car, and smiled. “i find that what a man can do matters less than what he chooses to do. besides, i have a functioning car and an active license. what’s the harm?”

you hummed. “i guess that’s true.”

“shall we go?”

“we shall,” you said, adjusting your seat a bit.

you didn’t talk much on the way there, but it didn’t feel awkward. sometimes it was nice to just look out the window and watch as you passed everything by. there was a world out there, and it was vast, parts of it unknown.

at the pier, johnny bought you both drinks and you ambled along the boardwalk together. “so,” he started. he had matched his strides to yours. “tell me about yourself.”

you didn’t know where to start. it felt like there was so much you could say. “what do you want to know?”

johnny shrugged. “anything. what do you like to do in your free time? where do you see yourself in ten years? what kind of men are you into? were you really going to marry off of your father’s list?”

you pondered each of those things before you spoke, and every answer seemed to go back to haechan. “the list… um, i don’t know. i guess i never really thought about who i would marry.”

that seemed to amuse johnny. “isn’t that all anyone ever thinks about?”

“i thought about getting married, yes. but not really who.” it was a lie now, but once it had been true.

“so you wanted to get married just so you could say you did it?” johnny asked. he didn’t seem to mean anything by it. 

“i mean, that’s… putting it bluntly,” you murmured. “but i guess it’s something like that.”

johnny’s voice was soft. “that doesn’t sound like you’re living for yourself.”

“well, a woman lives for her family,” you said. that was what you had always been taught. 

johnny changed the subject. “well, what about the other questions? what do you like to do?”

you had spent the past couple of weeks becoming a corpse in your bed, and the weeks before that submitting to haechan’s every whim, or practicing how you would in the future, so you weren’t sure how to answer that question either. “um, if there’s nothing to do around the house, i might hang out with my friend chaewon. well, i did, but um… anyway, i… watch tv, i guess? i don’t have that much free time. what about you?”

johnny didn’t even think about it. “i like to do all sorts of things. try out restaurants i’ve never eaten at, or an activity i’ve never done. i’m a pretty spontaneous guy.” he glanced down at you. “does that bother you? spontaneity?”

you didn’t know if haechan had been spontaneous or unpredictable or both. “i don’t think it’s a problem.”

johnny was pleased. “good. some people prefer routine, but i get bored easily, you know? i want to be with someone who has a sense of adventure.”

but i get bored easily. maybe that was it. maybe haechan had gotten bored of you. maybe he lost interest. “do you get bored of women as well?” you asked. you hadn’t mean to be that forward, but it came out before you could rein it back in.

that, on the other hand, made johnny pause. he spoke very carefully, “i think that there are certain traits i’m attracted to in a woman. her fierceness. her spirit. her resilience. those are the things that keep me interested. i think i wouldn’t approach a woman who didn’t display these traits in the first place.”

you had never really thought of yourself that way, but if he believed it, maybe it was true.

“what about you?” he asked. “what do you want in a man?”

you took a moment to think about that as well. it was something you didn’t always have the luxury of considering. for so long it had just been, this is the kind of woman i need to be. “maybe a man like my father. my biological father,” you whispered. “he was sweet. even when he was busy working, he made time for me. he made me feel special.”

“sounds like he was a good father,” johnny said. 

your heart felt heavy. “he was.”

thankfully the rest of the date was lighter. johnny took you to a ton of different stores and you browsed through their inventory, pointing out things that looked cool or silly. you tried on a few different hats. johnny. there was live music playing and you stayed around for that as well.

something about it soothed you. you had always liked music, ever since you were very young. in high school you and chaewon had gone to so many concerts you could scarcely remember them all, but you remembered the way they had made you feel. there was nothing else like that in the world.

leaning against the railing, you watched as the sun began to sink down into the earth for the night, the sky blossoming with color. you could hear the sea beneath you, the water heaving back and forth, the waves crashing against the earth, devouring the bottom of the structure where you stood.

“i think i never really appreciated stuff like this,” you said quietly.

johnny hummed. “why not?”

“it didn’t seem like it mattered,” you said. “it seemed like everything else was bigger and more imminent. but maybe i had it backwards.”

“maybe.”

for the first time in a long time, the silence wasn’t so loud. it didn’t feel like your thoughts were haunting you, pulling you back into a dark abyss of emotions that kept you up at night. everything was just there.

when the sky turned dark, johnny decided he would take you home. you did speak a little bit in the car, but after a while it was just the radio and the gloomy, looming night. you liked it that way.

johnny helped you out of the car and led you up the doorsteps like a proper gentleman, even though it was utterly unnecessary. “i had a good time with you tonight,” he said. 

strangely, you felt likewise. you didn’t know if it was because of him, or the environment, but nevertheless, you were glad you forced yourself out of bed that day. “i did too,” you said. “we should do that again.”

johnny was pleasantly surprised by the initiative. “do you have anywhere in mind?”

you thought about it. “there’s a restaurant my father liked,” you told him. “i’ll text it to you when i get inside.”

johnny nodded. “okay. i’ll be waiting.”

“have a good night, johnny.”

he reached out for your hand and kissed it. “you as well.” he walked back a few steps and watched you go inside before he left.

you didn’t run into anyone when you came in so you went straight to your bedroom and took a shower. you were moisturizing yourself when someone knocked on the door. “honey, it’s me. can i come in?” 

you glanced up at the door. “yes, it’s unlocked.”

your mother entered the bedroom and closed the door behind her. “how was the date?”

“he was different than i was expecting him to be.”

your mother tilted her head. “in a good way or a bad way?”

“i’m not sure yet,” you said. johnny had been nice enough. you just had a lot going on, and being back here made you remember everything.

“well, you have time to figure it out,” she said. she came to sit beside you on the bed. “do you want to go out with him again?”

“yes.” you knew that much.

she looked pleased. “good. that’s good. i’m glad you’re putting yourself out there and finding a man of your own. i started talking to your stepfather about arrangements.”

arrangements. well, johnny had picked a good time to ask you out. truthfully, it was the last thing you wanted. “mom?”

“yes, dear?”

“do you ever think about dad?” you asked. you knew she hardly talked about him, and you never mentioned him to her first, but today his memory was particularly strong.

she she didn’t answer immediately. it was a while before she finally said, “i try not to.”

you wondered why, but you didn’t ask. “i just feel like you moved on really fast. and i don’t know, i don’t think he deserved that.”

“i remember him one way and you remember him another,” your mother said. she stood up. “goodnight. get some rest. i want us all to have breakfast together tomorrow.”

you restrained yourself from groaning in disgruntlement. ever since you started locking yourself in your room for half the day, she had been trying to force these family meals. sometimes it would be breakfast and sometimes it would be dinner. and it was absolutely awful because haechan would always sit there as if he had never done anything wrong.

but it would be fine. you would get through it. because maybe that was what you did. you got through things.

day by day, you found yourself looking more and more forward to your next date with johnny. it had been a long time since you went to that restaurant you told him about. after your father died, it was like the world pulled you in the other direction, and everything that was his was so far away, part of another life you once had.

you almost wished you could go back to it. but you knew that was impossible, so the next best thing was to wrestle out of this one and start something new.

before you knew it, you were sitting before johnny, eating things that you used to eat, drinking stuff you used to drink. it was bittersweet.

after a while, johnny very gingerly asked, “can i ask when your father died?”

“like two years before my mom married my stepfather,” you said, looking down at your plate. if you closed your eyes, you could see him sitting there, talking about how much he liked the songs the band was playing.

you didn’t know if he was a mind reader or something, but he pressed, “do you think she moved on too fast?”

yes. maybe. i don’t know anymore. when you told her that you did, your mother had said something that confused you. you had no idea how she remembered him, or what that was supposed to mean. “it just feels like she was running from something,” you said. “and i didn’t feel like i really had time to process what happened before she married into this new family.”

“have you ever considered therapy?”

“no.”

“why not?”

“i never really thought about it,” you told him. “i guess i was worried about other things.”

“like getting married?” it was such a harmless question, but it felt like there was something he was getting at.

“i mean, yeah…”

johnny took a sip from his cup. “well, my mom says you can bury a body, but it’ll still be right there where you left it. you have to face those sorts of things.”

the conversation was getting heavy. maybe too heavy for a second date. “i like the music they play here,” you whispered. “the music they played at the pier was nice too.”

johnny smiled. “do you like music?”

you nodded. “yes. i used to sing in the choir. when i was little i watched my grandmother play the piano. i wanted to learn how to play it in college but i never had time.”

“you have time now,” he replied simply. 

your brows furrowed a moment. that was true. it had seemed so small in the grand scheme of things, learning to play an instrument, but now there was really nothing holding you back. “i guess so.”

“i’d like to hear you sing some time,” johnny said with genuine interest. 

you smiled timidly. “i think i’m a bit rusty, but i wouldn’t mind doing a tune or two. what about you? do you sing?”

johnny made a face, moving his head from side to side. “a little bit. i’m not whitney houston or anything but i can hold a note.”

you laughed. “i heard there’s a festival happening on the tenth. would you be interested in that?”

“are you asking me on a date?” johnny teased. 

“i thought that was the point of this.”

“it is,” he said. “and for the record, i would love to be at this festival with you on the tenth. i’ll clear my schedule right now.”

“if you’re busy, it’s okay—”

“nope,” johnny interrupted, already reaching for his phone. “i’m calling my assistant and telling him to cancel everything i have scheduled for that day.”

you had already been smiling, but it somehow grew even bigger. “that’s really nice of you.”

johnny’s eyes raked over your face, your smile. “it’s what you do for a girl you like.”

something about that made your heart flutter in a way that felt forbidden, but you didn’t know why.

and if you thought that was a lot, then nothing could prepare you for when johnny walked you up the steps to your house like he had done on the first date, only this time asking, “can i kiss you?”

when you came to think of it, you weren’t sure if haechan had ever kissed you on the lips. he had kissed other parts of your body and held you in his arms, but he had never put his lips to yours, and you never knew how badly you wanted that until now. “yes,” you whispered. 

johnny craned his head down so that his lips could reach yours. the kiss was soft, tender. in a way it felt like he was merely testing the waters, but it made a fierce heat spread through your chest, and when he pulled away,  you felt light as a feather.

“was that okay?” he asked, taking in your face with concern.

“yes,” you said again, because you didn’t know what else to say. a smile broke out across your face.

“good,” he said, reluctantly stepping down. “good night.”

“good night, johnny.”

it was safe to say that the dates didn’t stop there.

you spent months going out with johnny, and the more you did, the less you thought about anyone else. when you were with him, it felt like the two of you were the only people in the world, but not because you were alone. because he had a way of making everything else not matter.

the two of you did various activities together. the music festival was a blast, and he was tall, so he got good videos. you went bowling a few times, and that got super competitive. he even had the idea of taking dance classes, and it was the silliest thing, but you did it, and you enjoyed it. everything felt so easy.

the worst part was the waiting. sitting at home, knowing he was at work, knowing that it would be a while before he responded to your messages. but you always texted each other good morning and good night, no matter what. sometimes you texted him things anyway, if you really just had something to get off your chest, knowing that he would read it later.

it did finally give you the inspiration you needed to get out of bed and stop merely existing. you took up piano like you wanted, and the instructor came in a few times a week, helping you bit by bit.

you started sleeping more, and the dark circles went away. there were still hard times and harder thoughts, but you didn’t feel this unshakable sense of doom anymore. it felt like things were happening the way they were supposed to, and for the first time in a long time, you were doing things just because you wanted to do it.

that felt like a superpower you never knew you had. your mind was at ease more often that not, even though it could still be hard when you saw haechan and remembered the way things were. but you told yourself that the way things were was not necessarily the same as the way things should be.

one day, you went over to johnny’s apartment for the first time. “you have a nice place,” you said, taking in the sight of everything. it was neat, organized. the furniture selection was tasteful. 

“thanks. perks of being a businessman,” he chirped. “may i interest you in a glass of pinot noir?”

you giggled. “yes, you may.”

the two of you sat at a table, drinking wine, talking about anything and everything under the sun. it felt comfortable. safe. you just came as you were, and he was okay with that.

one thing led to another, and you found yourself in bed with him. at first it was just kissing. his lips against your lips, then against your jaw, then against your neck. it made your breath hitch. then it was touching. he paused, asking if you it was okay, and his hands wandered more and more, his eyes glued to your face, searching your every expression for a hint.

at some point, you wound up naked. his lips had been everywhere, your face, your chest, your abdomen, but then his face was between your legs, and he said, “i want to make you feel good. tell me if you want me to stop.”

at first, you had started to go into your mind, but it was hardly ever a good place to be. you slowly eased into the moment and let yourself relax. and that was the best choice you could have made. when you came, he kissed you down there and said that you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

you wanted to return the favor. he had said you didn’t need to, but you insisted; it would feel wrong if you didn’t give back. so begrudgingly he let you, and when you took him into your mouth, you pulled out every trick you knew to please him, because there was never the alternative of being mediocre.

johnny was very receptive. you liked the way his body reacted on its own, those responses raw and natural. you liked the way his voice sounded when he urged you on, saying things like, “fuck, just like that. you’re so good at that. how are you so good at that?” he had a steady hand in your hair as he held it behind your head.

when he came, you swallowed everything, your eyes fixed to his as you did. he looked like his soul had been dragged out of him, his eyes hazy, his chest heaving.

when you pulled away, you said, “thank you for letting me suck your cock, johnny.”

johnny blinked, like it took him a moment to process what you said, which was fair, all things considered. “what did you just say?”

you really hadn’t even meant to say it, but it was ingrained.

johnny was looking at you hard. “where did that come from? that’s really weird.”

your face burned. “i-i’m sorry, i thought you would like it.”

“don’t be silly. that’s nothing you need to thank me for,” he said. he pulled you off the floor, back up to the bed with him. “who taught you to say that?”

you didn’t know how he knew that, but your heart was racing. you had been hiding this truth from him for so long. you were afraid that if you told him, he would change his mind about you and everything you had would be nothing, and you couldn’t take another loss, you just couldn’t. 

but you couldn’t lie to him either, so reluctantly you confessed as quietly as you could, “haechan…”

johnny’s brows furrowed together. “had he touched you?”

you swallowed. “yes… but i wanted him to!”

johnny put his pants back on and handed your clothes back to you. you were afraid he was going to make you leave, but he asked, “when did this start?”

“i don’t know. it was months ago,” you said. it felt like forever ago and just yesterday at the same time. “i wasn’t getting suitors, so i asked him to help me dress more attractively. he took me to the mall and bought me clothes. he also bought… lingerie. he told me to have it on and wait for him. and later that night he came in and we… were together.” your eyes watered. “i’m sorry. i understand if you don’t want to be with me anymore. i know i was supposed to wait. he said i could lie, that my husband would lie, but i can’t do it. i’m sorry, i’m sorry.”

“stop,” johnny said, gentle but firm. “having sex doesn’t defile you. stop crying. tell me the full story.”

so you did. you told him about haechan and his friends. you told him about chaewon and the mall. you told him about the party, the vacation, what you saw in the kitchen, and how haechan had chosen the company over you. you told him what haechan had said, that if you couldn’t make him happy, you would make no man happy. that things with no value go in the trash. by the end of it, johnny’s face was grim.

“you do realize that that’s coercion and manipulation?”

“what?” you croaked. you didn’t know what you expected him to say, but it wasn’t that.

johnny continued, “none of what you just told me is normal. you just told me that he took advantage of your grief and insecurities to make you consent to having sex with him, and that he physically abused you and let his friends abuse you as well.”

“he loves me. he said so,” you whispered, but you had already started to doubt that.

johnny grabbed you by the shoulders. his touch wasn’t rough, but you could feel the graveness of it. “a man who loves you will not put his hands on you. a man who loves you will not lie to you. a man who loves you will not make you perform sexual favors simply so that you can meet a friend and then become aggressive because you’re inexperienced. that is a man who is using you. that is a man who gets off on controlling you and eroding your sense of self.”

for some reason, that only made you cry more. you knew haechan was no good for you. you knew that he was a liar and he hit you and he was probably not a good person, but you had never been good at letting go. it was the single hardest thing in the world.

johnny’s eyes softened. he wiped the tears from your face with his thumb. “darling, he made it so that your self worth hinged on his validation to such an extent that whenever he got angry, you would blame yourself. you would think, ‘well, if i never messed up, he wouldn’t have hit me.’ but there’s no such thing as perfection, least of all to men like him. men like him don’t give you the space you need to mistakes and grow. they want to break you down so that there’s nothing left of you but what they want you to be. don’t let him break you down by believing his lies.”

“you don’t understand. at first, he was helping me…” you whispered. 

“i understand how you might believe that, but it was never about helping you. he may have done things that you feel have benefited you, but it was always for his own gain.” johnny tilted your chin up. “why do you want suitors?”

it was such an outlandish question. “because i want to get married.”

“why?”

“because…. i want to have a family.”

“why?”

“because that’s what i’m supposed to do.”

“why?”

you didn’t understand why he was asking this question over and over and it was frustrating. “because that’s how i grew up.”

“exactly,” johnny said. “you want those things because the rest of the world told you that you’re supposed to want it. they dress it and make it sound pretty too. but you know what happens to most people? they marry a person they don’t really know or barely like. they have kids with this person without an inkling of an idea what a commitment it is to be a parent. they fuss and fight with this person and the children grow up watching, learning, absorbing, and they internalize it as their picture of love so that when they go into the real world, they can’t identify a performance of it from the real thing. and the cycle repeats.”

it made you remember what chaewon had said about why you couldn’t have sleepovers at her house. she had always complained about her parents’ incessant arguments.

johnny kissed your forehead and continued, “so if you’re going to marry someone, if you’re going to have children, at least do it on your own terms. do it because you want to. don’t do it because you think that’s all there is to life. it’s not. you’re very young.”

he was the first person to ever say anything like that to you, and that went for a lot of things you had heard him say over the months. but when you were brave enough to follow his advice, it did make you happier, so maybe he was right. 

“i want to marry you,” johnny said. “but i don’t want you to agree to it because you think you have to. i want you to agree because you like me, and you think that we will make each other happy.”

“i do like you,” you said, wiping your eyes. “you make me happy. more than anyone else.”

“are you sure?” johnny asked warily. 

“yes,” you told him. you wrapped your arms around him. “i want you in my life forever.”

“okay,” johnny said, sighing in relief. “okay. then sit down. we should talk about that.”

you followed him to the bed, sitting beside him, watching him, half clothed and barely even noticing. his words were echoing in your head, giving you so much to think about, things you had never considered, and that was the thing you liked about johnny that was so scary. he put things in your head that went against everything you ever heard, everything you had ever let yourself believe about the world.

that night honestly ended too soon, but the good news was that you weren’t dreading going back home for once.

at the next dinner, you knew the night was going to be exciting. everyone was seated in their usual spots, and your mother interrogated everyone about their days. 

you took a more active position for once, asking haechan, “how’s things with the company?”

“i’m glad you asked, sister,” haechan said, smiling. it was always weird seeing him act pleasant. “things are running smoothly. we’re currently trying to ascertain the most efficient means of implementing some new initiatives i had in mind that could boost our worker productivity and overall profitability. and you? how are things going with, what is it, mr. suh?”

“i’m glad you asked, brother,” you echoed, matching his smile. “mr. suh wants me to be mrs. suh.”

the table went silent for a moment. you saw the forks freeze as everyone took that in. 

your stepfather was the first to say, “i think that’s a wonderful idea!”

“honey, that’s amazing,” said your mother, the delight shaping her face. “i’m so proud. are you serious?”

“very,” you said. you glanced at your stepfather. “obviously, i need your blessing, but…”

“i can’t think of anything more fantastic," he interrupted.

“i think i’m going to cry,” your mother said, clasping her hands over her mouth. “my baby is getting married! i’m getting a grandchild!”

it felt like forever before your mother and her husband finally stopped bombarding you with a million questions about things you hadn’t even had time to consider yet, but it was obvious that they were pleased. 

haechan, on the other hand, was not.

you were alone in the kitchen, grabbing something extra to drink when haechan popped up in the entrance.

“you can’t marry him,” he said. 

“i believe that decision is up to your father, and he seems more than thrilled about it,” you replied.

it was like he didn’t hear you. “you can’t marry him,” he said again. 

you spun around and crossed your arms. “and why not?”

“because you’re mine,” haechan declared. he walked up until he was standing directly in front of you, his face nearly touching yours. “did you forget that already? i don’t touch you for a couple of months and you spread your legs for the first willing man in a suit like a good little whore? is that what you are? a whore?”

you grabbed a knife from the knife holder and pointed it at him. “don’t talk to me like that!”

haechan’s eyes widened. “baby, put the knife down.”

“no!” you exclaimed. something about the entire interaction made you feel so triggered. “you made me like this! i believed you. i thought you loved me!”

“i do. i do love you, baby, i swear-“

you jabbed the knife at him. “stop lying to me! you only love yourself! you said you were going to fix me, but you just wanted to break me down. you said you were doing what’s best for me, but you were doing what was best for yourself!”

haechan leapt back, stumbling. “okay, okay, i’m sorry, i’m sorry- let me make it up to you, okay?”

“no,” you said firmly. “i’m done with you. i’m moving in with johnny.”

haechan didn’t look like he was taking that well. you could see it in his eyes. the shock, then the anger. he was quiet for a moment, just glaring at you, but at last, he said, “you’ll never find another man like me.”

“i sure hope so.” you turned and walked away.

every time you saw haechan around the house after that day, he was sure to look at you with nothing but contempt, as if you had done something to break his heart and not the other way around. 

but you didn’t care. something good was finally happening to you, and you weren’t going to let him ruin it. you weren’t going to let your life revolve around his happiness anymore. for once, this was about you. and that was okay. it felt like it was okay.

it didn’t take long for you to remember how much you hated moving. the process was beyond annoying, even with people hired to do the heavy lifting for you. it was especially hard when you moved out of the house you grew up in, your father’s house. every memory you had ever made for the first twenty something years of your life was in that house, and you had to leave them there, or try to bring them somewhere the walls looked different, and the stairs didn’t sound the same, and the doors weren’t what you were used to. somewhere they didn’t fit.

at least now you were going somewhere you wanted to be. this house had never been a home. you walked around it the last few days of your staying, and it felt like a shackle was at your feet, letting you go just far enough to get around here, but keeping you inside.

the kitchen made you remember that night with haechan and his friends, the way their hands had felt on your body, how trapped you had felt. it reminded you of the way his hand went across your face when you woke late. your closet reminded you of the doom you felt waiting for him to come up to your bedroom, dreading it. the living room made you remember the day the investor stopped by to see him. the stairs made you remember hearing him and chaewon together.

when you put all of those thoughts together… you really hated this house.

“that’s the last of it,” you said in relief as you came in to sit on johnny’s couch. well, it was yours now too. “thanks for letting me move in.”

johnny snorted. “well, we’re getting married, so i think that’s only fair.”

i am getting married. to think something you had dreamed of your whole life was now becoming a tangible reality, and you were doing it for the right reason too. not because it was what everyone expected, but because you genuinely wanted it.

you glanced up at johnny. “i don’t think i’m going to talk to haechan anymore.”

“good,” he said, nodding. “that’s good.”

your feelings for haechan had been complicated, hard to shake even when you began to comprehend the truth of the harm he had done to you. but for some reason, that night in the kitchen, when he said those things to you, it was like a switch had gone off in your head. maybe even a month prior, you would have told yourself that you deserved it, that you had insulted him by going off with another man and had somehow earned his cruelty. but every month with johnny made you realize that what you had felt around haechan was not butterflies, but fear.

you didn’t want to live every single day on edge. you wanted to be with someone who made you feel safe. someone who made the world feel quiet. someone who made your life feel rich with possibility. someone like johnny.

“i was so stupid to believe him,” you murmured.

johnny shook his head. “you weren’t stupid,” he said. he approached the couch and dropped beside you. “you were vulnerable. he knew that and he preyed on you. the good thing is that you started to recognize the trap for what it was, and you didn’t let yourself get stuck in it. that counts for something.”

your brows furrowed as you became lost in thought, pondering the way things had been, how you had been so deceived. “he was nice sometimes. especially in the beginning.”

johnny chuckled. “of course he was. it’s easy to forgive someone when you’re clinging onto the good parts of them.”

“it’s almost like you’re speaking from experience.”

“well, there’s a lot of things you still don’t know about me,” johnny said. “but i’ll trust you if you can trust me.”

you reached for his hand. “i do trust you.”

johnny smiled. “i’m getting you a ring. and i’m going to propose to you properly. somewhere with good music. then we’re gonna go to dinner and you’re gonna tell me what you want to do in the next phase of your life, and i’ll tell you something about the last phase of mine.” he squeezed your hand. “deal?” 

you looked down at your joined hands, and a wide grin broke across your lips. “deal.”

you were truly happy with johnny. happier than you had been since before your father died. part of that was because your understanding of happiness had changed. you did things because they fulfilled you, and not because you were told that you should find it fulfilling. it didn’t feel like you were performing. with johnny, you could truly just be, and he still accepted you with open arms no matter what.

sometimes you would make mistakes. sometimes the ways of the life you had before you and johnny met emerged, but when it did, johnny helped you get through it so that you could start to unlearn behaviors that were never truly meant to serve you.

and you learned so much about yourself now that you were finally letting yourself exist. you wanted to travel more, learn more instruments, learn more languages, eat different food, meet different people. you wanted to pick up new hobbies and wear new clothes and do something random just because.

you had been in the middle of selecting color arrangements for your wedding when the mention of a familiar name on the news got your attention. the news anchor was saying, “tonight’s breaking news, ceo lee haechan has been removed from office after several subordinates came forward alleging that he engaged in illicit sexual relationships with them. the allegations are currently under investigation, and no criminal charges have been announced at this time.”

oh, how you would have loved to have been a fly on the wall at the house. things with no value go in the trash. there’s a mercy in that. i’d rather him go to hell.

as the days turned to weeks, and the weeks turned to months, though, no matter how great your life had become, you knew there was still something missing.

you tapped your feet against the ground as you sat at the back of the cafe. you had texted chaewon from johnny’s phone, still knowing her number by heart after all these years. you’d had little hopes that she would respond, but she did, and now you were waiting.

it had been so long since you last saw each other, you didn’t know what to expect. you didn’t even feel like the person you were when everything happened. it felt like a life that someone else had lived.

when you finally saw chaewon approaching, the air fled your lungs. she sat down at the table in front of you, and up close, she seemed to have become a different person too. 

“hey,” you said shakily. 

chaewon didn’t smile. “hey.”

“long time, no see. you look good,” you told her, because it was true. she had always looked good, her worst days were another person’s very best. but her hair was longer now, and she had dyed it.

“as do you,” she said, “but we’re a little past small talk, don’t you think?”

you swallowed. it was strange, being so careful around her, the person you had once felt the most comfortable with. “i suppose we are.”

chaewon cut to the chase.  “my brother made me block you. he says you set it up. is that true?”

it was the hardest thing to admit. “yes.”

chaewon scoffed. “wow. how could you do that? do you know that i got pregnant?”

“what?”

“yeah,” she said, sitting back in her chair. “luckily, jaehyun convinced my parents not to make me keep it. i was so scared.”

“did it… go okay?” you asked tinily. it felt like a stupid thing to say. “the abortion?”

“it was fine, i guess,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “i cramped and bled for a few days. after that it was easier.”

you nodded. it took you a moment to find the words. “chaewon, i am… so sorry. sending him after you… that was awful of me. i heard you and haechan in the kitchen that night and i was angry. i was jealous. i’ve been jealous of you almost my whole life. and i chose to do something that i knew would hurt you because of it. looking back, i can see how wrong it was. you didn’t deserve it at all and it cost me our friendship, and i didn’t understand that that was the realest thing i had. i know there’s nothing i can say to erase the impact of that trauma, but i can promise that i won’t let my emotions get the better of me like that again. i’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if i have to.”

chaewon was quiet a long time. “i appreciate your apology, but i don’t know if i’m ready to forgive you right now, or if i ever will be.”

that cut deep, but you couldn’t blame her. “that makes sense.”

“congratulations on your engagement,” she said, gesturing to your hand. “i hope he treats you well and you have a good life together. goodbye.”

“goodbye, chaewon,” you whispered. you watched her rise and walk away, almost as quickly as she had come. the moment was over before it really began, and you sat there not knowing if she would ever come back, not knowing if you had said the right thing, not knowing if there was anything in the world you could do to keep her there.

you looked down at the ring johnny had gotten you. it was absolutely beautiful, and he had let you choose it to ensure you loved it. you were entering a new phase of your life, and though it wasn’t with chaewon, it was with someone who loved you all the same. maybe you could live with that.

[kisssan]

𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐄𝐅𝐓 ⊹ 𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗲𝘇

pairing﹢ateez x fem!reader genre﹢smau + sfw. fluff, slightly suggestive, established relationship. synopsis﹢you decide to prank your boyfriend, but the important thing is that you won't be single, at least for now!

© KISSSAN do not copy, repost or modify my work.

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[mulloey]

little cannibal

he doesn’t know where you came from. he’s not even certain you’re human. but he’d do anything for you—anything to keep you happy. that includes indulging—and feeding—your peculiar appetite in any way necessary.

words: 5.2k

PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS! dark content, extremely unequal power dynamics, you’re pretty much his ‘pet’. cannibalism and murder, though the murder is not shown explicitly. yunho lets you take a chunk out of him at one point. self-mutilation, gore. reader is depicted as extremely childlike and innocent due to how she grew up and yunho is depicted as getting off on that fact (he does feel guilty though), unspecified childhood trauma, mentions of punishments such as spanking/belting/cold baths. reader is unaware of basic concepts such as parents, gender etc. blowjobs, throatfucking. it is explicitly stated that reader views yunho as a father. yunho sort of gets off on that. yunho is not a good guy. reader probably doesn’t have the mental capacity to be good or bad. you’re not allowed to leave the apartment.

note: this was intended to be longer, but i don’t have much else to do to it. it may be expanded on at some point. i’m honestly not super happy with it but i wanted to get it out. heed the warnings, this is gross.

The TV is blaring when he wakes up. It’s loud, obnoxiously so, hurting his head a little; the familiar rattle of the local news channel’s morning jingle and the laughter of the presenters.

He’s sure he remembers turning it off last night; a couple beers in, the tail end of an action movie he’s seen a hundred times droning on. He turned it off a little after it ended and trudged down the hall to bed, he’s certain; he remembers stumbling over the wires a little when he went to turn it off at the wall, slightly disoriented by the late night and the alcohol. You were asleep then, quiet and content on his bedroom floor.

You must have turned it back on after he went to bed; you have a habit of wandering around the apartment at night, fiddling with buttons and flicking switches until you get bored or tired and fall asleep where you’re stood. He doesn't love it, but the apartment is secure and you know not to do it in the bedroom when he’s sleeping, so it’s not a huge problem.

You certainly have more destructive habits than that, anyway.

He finds you under the table, when he finally gets up and trudges through to the kitchen; you’re crouching, partially concealed by the tablecloth, toes curled under your feet against the tiled floor.

He doesn’t know what you’re doing. He rarely does. But as long as you’re safe, and obeying him, that’s what matters.

“Get out from there,” he says. The words come out grumbled, his voice still rough, thick with sleep.

You crawl out slowly, begrudgingly, then stand up. He can tell you’re not happy about it, but you’re obeying nonetheless, and that’s enough for him.

Your shirt—his, actually—hangs loose around your body, a little grime seeping into the fabric.

Or it looks like grime, at least. When he looks a little closer he realises it’s actually blood.

He raises an accusing eyebrow, staring you down, and you shrink into yourself like you’ve been caught in the act. Which you have, pretty much.

“Baby,” he sighs. He reaches to grab a dirtied section of the shirt, holding it up to your eyeline where it’s unavoidable. “What did we talk about yesterday?”

“Change,” you answer quietly. “We have to change clothes when they’re dirty.”

He nods, humming. “That’s right. If you’re going to go around wearing shirts with blood on them then you’ll have to stop wearing clothes when you eat. Is that what you want?”

“No, Yu.”

“Arms up.”

You lift your arms obediently, staying still and silent as he slides the shirt up over your head and puts it down on the table. You’re bare now, only panties to protect your modesty, but that’s not something that really registers to either of you. Not with the states you’ve seen each other in—far, far worse than a little nudity.

“Sit down,” he says. “I’ll bring you breakfast.”

He turns off the TV first; it’s too loud this early in the morning, not to mention a waste of money to keep it running like that.

While he’s there, he slides his hand behind the TV stand and retrieves the key he keeps hidden underneath.

You watch him silently. You know what he’s doing—and you know how to be patient, too.

You’ll get what you need; you always do. Yunho has never once allowed you to go without.

The pantry is hidden behind a bookshelf you’ve never cared to browse—you have little use for books anyway. You watch as Yunho hauls it out of the way then slots the key into the lock.

It opens with a quiet click that makes your mouth water instinctively. You hear the fridge open then close, then a drawer, then he emerges again with a white tupperware in his hands.

Fuck. You can already smell it. The minute or so it takes for him to lock up and put everything back into place nearly has you jumping out of your seat.

“We’re running a little low,” Yunho tells you as he puts the box down on the table. “I’ll go out tonight. Stock up a little.”

The lid cracks open. The smell is the first thing to hit—it’s distinct, pungent, unmistakable once you know what it is. It still makes him a little queasy even now. You’re all but heart-eyed like he’s just offered you a gourmet dinner.

“Eat up,” he says. “Before it goes bad.”

You eat with your hands—despite his best efforts, you were never able to get the hang of cutlery, and you barely understood the logic of using it no matter how many times he explained it to you. It was just one of those times where he had to pick his battles, he’d realised; you eat well anyway, never leaving a drop, and that’s what matters.

“How is it?” He asks.

“Good,” you answer. “What is it?”

“Thigh.”

You nod, approving, and he bites back a laugh. “Good girl,” he murmurs, mostly to himself. You’re far too engrossed to hear it; if you do, you don’t reply.

You’re a woman of few words—that’s something he understood about you very early on. He doubts you used them at all before meeting him; when would you have? You were all alone out there, wherever you were; in the very few stories you have told him of your early life, you never once mentioned another person.

He supposes it makes sense; tracks with the complete waste of time it had been trying to find any record of you at all.

To the rest of the world, it seems, you just… don’t exist.

He intends to keep it that way.

“Done,” you announce. You push the box back to him, then push each of your fingers into your mouth, one by one, until they’re licked clean. There’s still some blood around your mouth and trailing down your chin; he sighs, lamenting silently to himself, knowing what he’s going to have to do.

“You’re dirty, sweetheart,” he says quietly. “You’re going to need a wash.”

Your head snaps up, eyes suddenly sharp, your lips set in a firm line. “No,” you growl. “No wash, Yunho.”

He tries to keep his voice level, but the defiance in your voice, in your eyes, has his hand twitching by his side. “You have to, baby, you’re filthy. I don’t like filthy girls, do I?”

It’s true—if it weren’t such an issue it’d almost be funny that someone like him, used to keeping things clean and tidy and very much set in his ways, would be so irrevocably bonded with someone who scarcely even understands why it’s necessary to wash in the first place.

He doesn’t blame you, of course; with the life you’ve had he knows he can’t expect any different. But it does cause problems sometimes.

“Baby,” he repeats. “Do I like filthy girls?”

You shake your head, deflating a little. One way he’s found to make you understand why it’s necessary to do or not do certain things is to frame them around him—Yunho doesn’t like that. Yunho likes this. You have to do it this way, because it makes Yunho happy.

Whatever works, he supposes, and he can’t deny he enjoys the way you’re almost religiously in need of his praise and approval. It’s a level of power he doesn’t quite know what to do with; he certainly wants to maintain it, though.

Other people would just abuse it, anyway.

“Let’s go wash up,” he says. “Then you’ll be nice and clean and I’ll be happy.”

“And reward?” You ask, hope evident in your voice.

He bites back a grin that’s a little more predatory than he can admit of himself. “Yeah, love,” he says. “Then reward.”

It’s as much as a reward for him—more, probably, if you were to ask anyone but you. But you’re not going to ask anyone else, so it doesn’t really matter.

He sets the bath running—it’s easier than trying to put you in the shower, he’s found—at the temperature you seem to hate the least. Not too warm, but not too cold. He doesn’t set it cold unless you’re being really, really bad. You stand hovering behind him while he prepares it; when he’s awake you tend to follow him around the house, not really certain what else to do with yourself. Even facing away from you, he feels the way you tense up when he sets the water running; you relax a little when you see him set it warm, though not entirely, and he bites down a laugh.

“Relax, bunny,” he murmurs. “You’ve been good. S’gonna be just how you like it.”

“Don’t like any of it,” you grumble. He rolls his eyes.

“Okay,” he says, turning off the taps. “In we get. Let’s get you nice and clean, wash this filth off you.”

You don’t fight him when he lifts you up and puts you into the tub; you only do it very occasionally these days, when you’re particularly agitated or bratty, but for the most part he’s weeded that particular instinct out of you. You know, now, not to fight Yunho; not while he’s the one who protects you from the world. Especially not while he can hit that hard.

You stay still, docile, silent as he cleans you up. He rewards you with your favourite fluffy towel, warmed on the radiator, wrapped around you once he dries you off. “All done,” he says. “I’ll get you a clean shirt.”

He slips another old, loose shirt over your head; it falls to your mid-thigh, and the fabric is soft and worn, the colour starting to fade. Then he puts you on your knees by the foot of the bed; grips your jaw between his fingers and yanks it upwards to meet his eyes. “I’m gonna give you your reward,” he says. “Tell me the rule.”

“No teeth,” you recite it, as you always do. “No biting. Only tongue.”

“And if you break that rule, what’ll happen?”

“Belt.”

He hums. He doesn’t particularly enjoy beating you; you don’t put up a fight, at least, not anymore, but your pained whimpers do very little for him. It’s purely a disciplinary measure, one of the few ways to keep you in line that actually deters you. He doesn’t do it often—usually you’re just over his knee and he’s using his hand, or a small brush sometimes—only when it’s something serious. And given your predilection for meat, he definitely views keeping your teeth off his dick as something serious.

“Open your mouth,” he orders, pulling his dick out from his sweats. It slides in easily past your lips and into the warmth. You make a face, wincing slightly, but he knows it’s not the intrusion that’s bothering you; rather the soap he forced into your mouth as he always does before he goes anywhere near it.

He knows exactly the sort of things that have been in that mouth, and it’s nothing he wants on his fingers or his lips or his heavy leaking cock.

You suckle at it eagerly, swirling your tongue around the tip in just the way he taught you; you’re whimpering slightly, the size overwhelming you, staring up at him with those wide, innocent eyes like you don’t even understand what's happening to you, a stray tear playing on your waterline.

Fuck, he shouldn’t be getting off on that. He shouldn’t fucking be doing any of this; you’re so naive, so inexperienced; you have no knowledge of the world beyond his apartment. You can barely string a sentence together; barely understand what he’s saying to you unless he dumbs it down.

You’re like a child. For all intents and purposes, you are one. The guilt and the shame sits heavy in his stomach as he pushes himself down into your throat.

“That’s it,” he groans. “You enjoy it, baby. Do I taste good?”

You make a humming noise, affirmative, tightening your lips around his shaft and he groans. “Shit.” You’re so fucking good at this when you can keep your damn teeth off of him. “Alright,” he says. “I’m gonna cum down your throat. Remember your manners and swallow it.”

It doesn’t take him long; he grabs the back of your head and pulls it towards him then starts to thrust, in and out, faster and harder until he’s fucking your throat and you’re gagging and spluttering around his shaft. Your sweet little hands are fisting at his shirt, curling the fabric around your fists like you’re holding on for dear life. He cums suddenly, quickly, directly into your throat. You probably couldn’t spit it up if you tried with how deep he is; still, though, he pats your head and praises you for swallowing it so sweetly. It’s a point of pride for him, honestly, how well he’s trained you up.

“Alright,” he says, tucking himself back into his sweats. “How you feeling?”

“Fine,” you mumble. You’re still staring up at him with those wide puppy eyes, the way that always gets him though he doubts you’re aware of that; you don’t seem to have any kind of pattern recognition, any understanding of cause and effect. He picks you up with his hands hooked under your arms and sits you down on the edge of the bed, then he crouches down to meet your eyes.

“You sleepy, baby?” He asks. You nod. “Alright, pet. You can sleep in my arms while I watch TV.”

He carries you through, your head tucked into the crook of his neck; by the time he puts you down you’re already snoring. He laughs slightly as he adjusts you so you’re cradled sideways in his lap, your face pressed tightly enough against his chest that your cheeks are squished. You look so cute when you sleep; so harmless.

Really, you look harmless all the time, unless you’re eating. But he’s hardly one to judge, he thinks, not anymore. He’s as inhuman as you are now.

He likes to get your food a few days in advance. He can’t stock up in bulk, unfortunately, because if the meat’s more than a week old it’ll make you sick, so he likes to go out every Friday for it.

It’s all procedural; clinical. He finds it, he brings it back, he cuts it and freezes and stores it. It’s as simple as that.

He gets no thrill from it; no pleasure. That fact is the sole thing that keeps him steady most days.

At just after eleven on Friday, he puts you to bed as he always does. On the nights he goes out, you sleep in your cage; it’s not a punishment, never has been, just a way to ensure you’re safe and contained while he’s gone. He’s tried to make it homely for you, with pillows and blankets and a couple of toys for you to play with; the little stuffed bear you like to pretend to pounce on and the toy car you push around and watch with wonder as the wheels spin against the floor. He’s never gone for too long, and by the time he comes back you’re almost always asleep.

Today’s kill is in two bags, as usual; they’re large, cooled, like the ones his mother would pack his picnics into when he was a child. He’s not particularly fond of cutting people up where they fall, but he knows he’d never be able to pull a body up the stairs without being caught; that’s why he tends to go for dark alleyways, empty buildings, wooded areas and the like—less people to stumble across him while he’s doing what he needs to do.

The gun is in his pocket, safety on, the silencer still wrapped around the barrel. He puts it away first, locked up in the safe, then puts the meat into the freezer and locks the door.

He’s pretty tired tonight. He’ll get the meat ready in the morning. He has to do it when he’s awake and alert and in the right frame of mind or the sight and the smell and the sound of the knife sinking into the muscle will make him retch.

You’re curled up and knocked out in the cage when he returns to the bedroom, your face tucked between your knees and your arms wrapped around your shins. He picks you up, careful not to wake you; you make a soft, quiet noise when he lifts you, somewhere between a whimper and a breath, but you don’t stir.

You sleep pressed against his chest, his face buried in your hair, breathing you in. He savours the nights like this, when you sleep together; your sleep schedule is so irregular that he rarely gets the opportunity to have you like this.

The last thing he’s conscious of is the sound of you murmuring his name against his chest, talking in your sleep.

The next few weeks pass normally enough. You eat well, as you usually do, and you listen to him when he gives you an instruction. He only has to spank you once, for making a fuss when he has to leave, and even that is just a few minutes with his bare hand, comparatively mild; he doesn’t even pull your panties down for it—just lifts up your shirt and slams his hand down until your skin is glowing red.

When he’s done, there’s a little wet patch on the crotch of your panties that he decides not to mention. He definitely notes it, though.

It’s on a Friday morning that things start to go downhill.

He wakes up to a missed call from his father—a bad start. He hardly talks to the man; hasn’t since he left for college, really. The only reason he still engages with him is that his mother is sick in the hospital and his dad is the only person who keeps him updated on it.

He presses the call button begrudgingly. The sound of his father’s voice makes him wince. “Yunho, hello.”

“Hi, dad,” Yunho says. He peers through the crack in his bedroom door, into the small expanse of hallway it reveals. He thought he’d heard you walking around when he was waking up, but when he got out of the shower you’d gone silent. He supposes you’ve fallen asleep somewhere. “What’s up?”

“Your mother is doing better,” his father says. “She’s walking again. Thought you’d like to know.”

“Oh, that’s good. Yeah. Thanks. Anything else?”

“Are you going to come to visit her?”

Yunho sighs, closing his eyes, massaging the bridge of his nose. “I told you,” he says. “I can’t right now.” He can’t leave you here—and he certainly can’t take you with him. God knows how you’d react, what you’d do; he’s not even certain you fully grasp the concept of anyone else existing but you and him.

“Why not?”

“I have a… I’m having issues with work. And I’m taking care of my friend’s kid.” A lie for several reasons. Yunho doesn’t have any friends.

“Well, bring the kid.”

“I can’t,” he says. “My friend is in the hospital, too. We need to be in the area if something happens.”

His dad doesn’t respond; just scoffs. The sound of the tone when he hangs up makes Yunho flinch, drawing his phone away from his ear. For fuck’s sake.

You’re on the couch, it turns out, only half asleep; Yunho wakes you with a hand on your shoulder and sits you up. “Come on,” he says. “Breakfast.”

“You were talking,” you say, following him through to the kitchen. “Why?”

“My dad called me,” he answers. “First time in months. I was talking to him.”

“Oh,” you nod, sitting yourself down, but there’s a measure of confusion on your face still like something’s not quite computing with you. “Are you my dad?”

You ask it so earnestly and innocently that it makes him sick. Not the question—the way his dick twitches in his pants in response to it. “What?” He shakes his head quickly, his face burning. “No. No, I’m not. Your dad is… your dad is the man that made you and helps you grow up.”

“You help me grow up.”

“Not when you were a child,” he says. “And I didn’t make you. I just look after you.”

“I don’t think I have a dad.”

“Do you have a mom?” He asks. “Like a dad, but a woman.”

You don’t reply; you just stare at him like you’re waiting for him to finish his sentence. He sighs. “A woman. You know what that means?”

“Me?” You ask uncertainly.

“That’s right,” he nods. “A woman has a hole, like you. A man has a dick, like me.”

“I didn’t have a mom,” you respond after a moment. “I had me.”

Yunho hums, processing what you’ve said; this is the most you’ve ever spoken about your life before he found you. There’s so much he wants to know about it; at the same time, though, he thinks he may be better off ignorant. He still doesn’t know what you are, really, why it is you need to eat what you eat, why other foods, other meats make you so sick and weak and grey. He can’t imagine any explanation for that that he wouldn’t regret finding out.

“Well, you have me now,” he says. “And I take care of you.”

“Dad.”

“No, not dad. Yunho.”

“Dad is a man that takes care of me,” you argue. You point at him. “Dad.”

“Not just takes care of you,” he says. “Dads don’t just take care of you, they make you as well. I didn’t make you.”

You frown, your hand falling; Yunho dares to think you look almost… crestfallen. He bites his lip. “Would you like to have had a dad, baby?”

“You,” you reply. “Have a dad that’s you.”

Oh Christ. He holds back a groan, willing himself to think of anything but his half-hard dick and the way that word sounds so soft and sweet and innocent on your tongue.

Well. Anything for his baby, right?

He tells himself over and over that that’s all it is; something to make you happy. “If you want to see me as your dad,” he says, “if you do see me as your dad. That’s okay.”

“I’d be a good…” You pause, frowning slightly. “If you’re dad, what am I?”

“A daughter, I suppose.”

“I’d be a good daughter.”

Yunho smiles. “I know you would.”

You eat quietly, not too messily; the meat he gives you this morning is mostly dried out, a few days in the freezer, so there’s no blood to drip down onto your shirt. When you’re done, you push the plate towards him with a whispered “thank you.”

He’s just about to head out when it happens. He doesn’t know why you decide to lie there, curled up on the floor in the middle of the hallway—he doesn’t even see you until it’s too late. His head is a mess, adrenaline already pumping as he readies himself for what he has to do; he’s rushing to grab his keys from one kitchen when he feels it. His shin presses up against something, something solid, and he’s falling before he can stop himself.

He hears the snap; feels the pain before he even realises what’s happened. When he looks down at his ankle, the break is obvious.

Fuck.

He groans; he tries to get up but the slightest weight on it has him stumbling back down again, hissing in pain, head spinning.

Okay. Shit. This is fine.

He’s set broken bones before; treated them. He did it all the time in college when he volunteered as a first aider. Nobody breaks bones like drunk college kids with someone to impress.

He hops over to the first aid kit, gathering what he needs, then sits down, his bad ankle resting on the chair in front of him. It doesn’t take too long to fix himself up; by the time he does you’ve woken up, wandering curiously into the kitchen; your eyes widen at the sight of him. “What happened?”

“I hurt my ankle,” he says simply. “I tripped over you. In the hall.”

“Oh.”

“How many times have I told you not to fall asleep where you’re in my way?”

You shrug slightly. You have the decency—the awareness, perhaps—to look a little uneasy.

“Well?” He prompts you.

“A few,” you say. “M’sorry.”

“You need to learn to listen,” he tells you. “I keep telling you things over and over and you don’t learn. You don’t obey.”

“Don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad,” he says. “But I won’t be able to go out tonight.”

“What?”

“I can’t put weight on this. I don’t have anything to lean on. I can’t hunt down and kill someone in this state, let alone bring a corpse back to the apartment.”

You blink. “But I need to eat.”

“I can’t do anything for you,” he says. “I can’t get out until this heals a bit. You still have the supplies in the freezer.”

“And then?” You press. “When I finish?”

“We’ll make do,” he says. He pauses briefly, grunting, then gives a low, dry laugh. “You consider this part of your punishment, for never fucking listening to me.”

Only part of it, of course, because you absolutely have a belting in your future once he’s able to stand up again, and by the look on your face he can tell you know that. He could probably do it now, albeit awkwardly, but if he’s going to take the belt to you he’s going to do it with his full strength. Perhaps the wait will do you some good; help the lesson sink in a little deeper.

He tries to ration the food; it lasts you longer than he thought it would, but you have to eat regularly or you start to get sick; grey skin and unsteady on your feet and crying in pain like you’ve been poisoned. He’s learned from experience that, once that sets in, it doesn’t take long for your condition to deteriorate even more.

One week later, he manages to put weight on his ankle again. Not as easily as he’d like, but he manages to jog awkwardly around the apartment.

And a good thing, too, because your food has officially ran out.

He was annoyingly close to making it on time. He has everything ready by the time he’s fit enough to hunt. Just a few hours and he’ll be fully stocked up and the rationing can stop and his baby will have everything she needs again.

It very nearly works. There’s a queasy feeling in his stomach even before he sees you that tells him that it hasn’t.

You’re on the floor when he comes out into the living room. Your skin is greyed, glistening with sweat, and you’re whimpering and clutching your stomach. Fuck. He’s too late.

He curses, rushing over to you, pulling you up and into his arms.

“Baby,” he says. He tries to keep his voice low, steady, even, but panic is setting in and it feels like his stomach is twisting into a tight, tangled knot. “Sweetheart, look at me. Look at me. Stay with me.”

Your eyes are half shut, drooping; he curses under his breath, shaking you, calling your name. Soft at first. Then panicked. Then stern; that’s the one that has you responding.

“Yunho,” you whine. “F-food, please.”

“Okay,” he says. “Okay, I can go and get you some.”

“No,” you cry. You’re shaking now, smaller and frailer in his arms than he’s ever seen you, and your skin is ice cold, somehow soaked in sweat and bone dry at the same time. “Need— now. Please. Gonna— gonna…”

“Now?” He repeats.

“Please,” you whisper. “Gonna die.”

He believes you. He looks around the room, searching for something he can use; his eyes land on the kitchen countertop. On the case of knives, locked up.

The realisation sets in like sickness. He knows what he has to do.

“How much do you need?” He asks.

“Not… not that much,” you say. “Just some.”

“Stay here.” He eases you down onto the floor then pushes himself up; the case doesn’t need a key to open, just a simple latch mechanism, even that too advanced for you to crack, so it doesn’t take long to get what he needs. He comes back to kneel by your side, eyes moving between you and the knife and his leg.

Your eyes are closed now, but you’re still awake for the most part, mumbling things he doesn’t understand. You do that sometimes; did it a lot at first before he taught you how to talk. He theorised you’d had your own little language where you were before.

He pulls up his pant leg to around his knee. He goes for the calf, the same leg as his bad ankle; he’s going to take a strip out of it, he decides, down the side, so there’s not too much of him missing and he can go back out and stock up tomorrow, once you’re in the clear. He’ll have to adjust his methods slightly, perhaps, but he’ll get it done. He doesn’t really have a choice.

He inhales, a slow, shaking breath, then lifts the knife to his calf and presses down. He can’t help but squeeze his eyes shut as the blade sinks into his skin.

He bandages it carefully, with the supplies he’s cultivated over years of injuries, usually from people fighting back, that he couldn’t take to a hospital. He admits, though, that this is the worst one yet. Scratches and scrapes and bites and, once, a chain of keys stabbed into his arm, that’s one thing; this is an entire chunk out of his leg. He feels dizzy and sick and the pain makes his eyes water, every movement sore, but there was no alternative. He couldn’t just let you starve. Couldn’t let you die.

A small section of it, just a piece, forced past your cold grey lips and into your mouth, was enough to have you conscious and aware again. He carries you to the table and sets down a plate for the rest.

You’re slower to eat it than you normally are, as if you’re savouring it, savouring the taste of him on your tongue; you stare at it in what looks like wonder when he puts it down onto your plate, poking at it with your finger; pressing down on it so the blood seeps out from where it had been held by the meat.

“Yunho,” you murmur, then smile. “My Yunho.”

“How do I taste?” He asks. His voice is quiet, weak, his head still spinning a little, but you hear it nonetheless.

“Good,” you say. “Thank you. Hurt?”

“Me?” He asks. You nod. “Yeah, it does. It’ll heal, though, it’ll just leave a nasty scar I think.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” he says. “You needed to eat.”

You swallow the last piece with a smile; blood drips down your chin and lands on your chest, on his shirt, seeping into the fabric. He helps you take the shirt off as he always does; lowers you carefully into the tub to clean you up.

Usually, he throws the shirts into the washing machine and cleans them before they can stain.

This time, though, he throws it into the trash.

He doesn’t want to look at it anymore.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

[hms-no-fun]

so i feel the urge to add a bit of context here because i find the vague on-screen text deeply underwhelming.

this is not just "a picture", it's Pale Blue Dot, one of the most famous works of astrophotography ever made public. and it was not just "a dying spacecraft", it was Voyager 1, a probe launched in 1977 to study the atmosphere and moons of Jupiter and Saturn, among other things. both Voyager probes carried on them a golden record meant as an introduction to humanity for any alien species that might discover them (if you saw Kane Parsons' Backrooms, you've heard the contents of that record coming out of a cardboard caveman standee). they did this because NASA planned to sundown these probes by letting them drift out of the solar system to parts unknown. Voyager 1 is currently 16 billion miles away, the farthest any manmade object has ever traveled from earth.

AND it's not even dead! despite supposedly being a "dying spacecraft" all the way back in 1990, Voyager 1 is not expected to be fully out of commission until 2036. to keep the probe alive they've switched off unneeded tools, adjusted its trajectory, even essentially updated the firmware, and through all that time it's basically never stopped sending back priceless data for scientists to analyze.

this is the original Pale Blue Dot, by the way:

it's relevant because "a single point of light smaller than one pixel" makes a lot more sense in the context of the original than it does in the heavily corrected version up top, where our pale blue dot looks more like a vibrant dwarf star. the difficulty of spotting earth in these waving curtains of space IS the entire impact of the picture! the blue dot is "pale" because it's hard to see! by making earth stand out so brilliantly, Terribly Interesting have inadvertently created the impression that earth is this vibrant glowing pearl, bright for all to see for billions of miles around. and it just isn't! the point is not that we can see earth from far away, but that we almost can't, because we aren't the center of the universe! when science educators past have used this image they often referred to one where the earth is circled in bright red, which only further emphasizes how small and fragile our home really is.

but hey, if you DO want an improved version of Pale Blue Dot you don't even need photoshop:

this is Pale Blue Dot Revisited, released by NASA in 2020. this is a reinterpretation of the original data using modern image processing techniques to create a more realistic or at least more high-definition rendering of the scene. it's important to understand that this is not the original image dropped into photoshop and airbrushed. strictly speaking, there isn't an "original" Pale Blue Dot the way there are negatives of traditional photography. astrophotography is almost always the product of raw data being deliberately interpreted by scientists, so the same data can produce many different images (ie if they want to emphasize the infrared spectrum vs visible light). similar work was done by Don P. Mitchell in ~2005 to enhance images taken by Soviet Venera probes of the surface of Venus to be less noisy.

here's an original:

and here's Mitchell's version:

i'm not here to argue which is "better" (and i highly recommend you read the source for this one because it's quite fascinating), just to give another example of the process in action and hopefully clarify how it's distinct from editing a jpeg in photoshop. also i just think it's neat!

which is the real reason i went to the trouble of making this post. Terribly Interesting may indeed find all of this to be terribly interesting, but it appears to be interest for the sake of a vague transient feeling of having been interested and little else. it doesn't name the probe, the photo in question, nor does it give historical context for the mission it was part of. the only substantial thing it says about the probe, that Voyager 1 is a "dying spacecraft", is so frustratingly oversimplified it may as well just be a lie.

so what's actually learned here, if you're someone who knows none of this history? that one time there was a thing and it did a thing? earth tiny from far away?? obviously it's just one image macro but i see this kind of thing making the rounds SO often, a screenshot with like two sentences on it explaining the image with as little descriptive text as possible. it's like there's a space-themed inspiration-posting rulebook that says you can't imply the existence of information not contained within the image. mention Voyager 1? mention Pale Blue Dot? nope! "a dying spacecraft" took "one last photograph", and here's a photoshopped version to make earth more visible.

and it might not even get to me nearly as much if this was any other space photo. i could accept that space stuff is complicated and this kind of fast-food image can only say so much if we were talking about Cassini or JWST's role in helping us find exoplanets. but this is Pale Blue Dot, the brainchild of arguably THE science communicator Carl Sagan! he wrote a book about Pale Blue Dot, he was on TV to announce the image personally! it's arguable that no astrophotograph exists whose context has been more digestibly packaged for laymen than Pale Blue Dot, which just makes it that much more egregious when someone doesn't go to the trouble.

so much of what i love about astronomy and studying the past & future of space travel is that everything you can learn is a doorway to learning more. you can't earnestly read about Voyager or Cassini or Venera or any other mission without finding some odd searchable detail and going "wait, what is that" and immediately falling down an hourslong rabbit hole to find an answer. and you'll never reach the bottom! i love reading articles about cutting edge astrophysics written for people in, like, early grad school, because i fully comprehend maybe 10% of it, vaguely understand 20% (on a good day), can kind of wrap my head around 30%, and find the rest totally inscrutable... but that's still a solid 60% scrutability rating even at the lowest-quality end of the spectrum! i'm no expert and i never will be, but in scouring the written expertise of others i almost always find one or two ideas that end up sticking with me forever. and it starts, every time, from questions about a photograph.

the sin of the above image is that it's solipsistic. it doesn't give you anywhere to put your curiosity or interest, doesn't invite you to leave their website and learn more than they have space to share, it doesn't even tell you anything useful about its subject! it reduces the entire history of Pale Blue Dot down to a vague and nondescript wonder that's just a pale imitation of the highly specific and ideologically driven wonder that Carl Sagan wanted us to feel.

here, feel it for yourself:

----

[P.S.: before you lament that this is an "AI" problem, while yes "AI" has radically increased the volume of low-value (often negative-value) inspiration bait like this, know that this has been a problem in online science education for a LOT longer than chatgpt's been around. this example isn't extraordinary, just close to my heart. nothing new under the sun and all that]

[redemptions]

citrus kisses [2]

pairing: ot8 ateez x reader

genre: fluff, hybrid au, pack dynamics, not quite a/b/o, soulmate au, caretaker!reader, hybrid!ateez, red panda!hongjoong, bunny!seonghwa, labrador!yunho, deer!yeosang, fox!mingi, ragdoll cat!san, panther!wooyoung, bear!jongho

wc: 4.1k

summary: "you're ours," he breathed, desperate, honest, "and we're yours. Whatever you say, whatever you decide, we'll always be yours." you got a job as a new caretaker and the boys are pretty sure you are their mate.

a/n: thank you so much for your love of the first part! it made me so happy and motivated me to keep going, I appreciate it so much

masterlist // requests: open

chapter 1 . chapter 3

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“What are we supposed to do?” Mingi asked, voice rough with sleep, head angled over the back of the sofa.

It was late, a day of work that had stretched into the night and left them all exhausted to the bone. Any other time, they may have pushed a pack meeting to a different day but this was a conversation they had been avoiding for a while.

When Mingi had first joined KQ, he remembered the nerves and excitement that had swirled within him. He was just a kid back then, barely at the beginning of living his dream. He hadn’t expected anything more than that - but then he’d met Hongjoong. He was expecting the normal type of nerves, some discomfort, some uncertainty as they figured out how to work together.

He hadn’t expected the smell of cocoa and flowers, that beckoned him closer and closer. His mum had told him that a hybrid always knows who they’re supposed to be with by scent alone. In that moment, he’d known it was true.

Meeting the others, with scents so distinctive and yet sung to him in the same way - it felt like a miracle at the time, like he had been blessed.

Of course, it wasn’t perfect, nothing ever is. They argued and fought and struggled to balance work and personality and animal instinct. Mingi couldn’t count how many times he would set off Seonghwa’s flight response or how many times Jongho would bare teeth at him to make him submit.

But it worked, in the end. They were together, happy, complete he had thought.

Until Hongjoong returned with a glazed look in his eye and admitted he’d found someone else. Mingi had rolled your name over and over again, like it might give him some insight. It didn’t of course but he found himself wondering how you’d fit in with them, within their pack, if what Hongjoong said was true.

When he’d met you in person, all nervous energy and bright smiles, Mingi had hunted for your scent and it made his ears ring. Sweet, alluring, and every instinct in him twitched to close the distance. With the others, he’d given into it but he couldn’t with you.

None of them could.

Because you were human, and it was very obvious that you didn’t have the same reactions as they did.

So now they were here, sitting in their den, wrapped in each other’s scents and longing for yours to join.

“She doesn’t feel it like we do,” San said with a frown.

“Humans and hybrids end up together all the time,” Yunho reminded. He was shaking his leg, the need to move strumming through him. “How do they do it?”

Jongho snorted. “The human way, I imagine.” He stretched out, the joints in his back clicking, “You know, with words and time together.”

“I’ve never dated a human before,” Yeosang admitted quietly.

Wooyoung ran a hand through the deer’s hair before flicking at the lobe of his ear. “You’ve only dated us,” he teased affectionately.

“And let’s be honest,” Mingi mused, “we were an easy date.”

Seonghwa knocked shoulders with him. “You got scent drunk and passed out in Yunho’s bed.”

Mingi flushed. “I was young,” he argued, but leant into his hyung’s soft touch, sighing at the way Seonghwa pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips.

“We all were,” Hongjoong murmured, “it’s different now. We have to be careful, with her, with ourselves.”

San asked what they were all worried about. “What if she never feels it?”

Honestly, the thought made Mingi’s chest tighten, his breath feel like it wasn’t taking in enough oxygen. His fox stirred, uncomfortable at the mere thought. He wanted to say it wouldn’t happen, to deny its possibility but that wasn’t strictly true, was it?

Hongjoong rolled his lips unhappily before sighing. “Then we accept it for what it is,” he said, “but we still have to try.”

“Operation seduce the caretaker,” Wooyoung joked, grinning happily when Jongho groaned and threw a pillow at him.

-

Something was up with the boys.

You’d only been working with them for a couple of months at this point and honestly, you felt like you had known them for years. They were sweet, considerate and some of the easiest clients you’d had, despite their number and different needs.

They were quick to tell you if something wasn’t right - like the time that a stylist used the wrong hairbrush on San and made his hair stand on end, or when another predator hybrid idol was placed in a green room just too close to Yeosang. They’d look at you with wide eyes, hopeful that you’d solve the problem and you’d do anything to make sure you did.

You barked orders at stylists and got dressing rooms swapped; you brought scented items with you on solo schedules just in case it was needed and when the boys were being pushed to their limits, you’d step in and ensure they got a deserved break.

It was hard to pinpoint exactly what was wrong.

No, wrong wasn’t quite the right word. Nothing wrong was happening. They did their jobs, they laughed and joked, just as much as they always would.

Wooyoung was always affectionate. He hadn’t neck scented you again but he held your hand a lot in downtime, playing with your fingers with an almost absentminded edge.

San insisted on bringing you food, even on his breaks, and would grin almost manically when you accepted it. He even fed you once, lips parted, eyes intense as he watched you chew and swallow.

Mingi had started asking to help you with your hair, usually in the middle of a busy day when the front strands would start to get in your way. You’d resisted at first but he looked so sad when you refused that you gave in, and tried not to shiver from the way his fingers touched the small of your neck.

Hongjoong checked in on you more than you did for him, making sure things were to your standard. “I want to make sure our caretaker is taken care of,” he’d joked and you’d smiled bashfully.

Seonghwa started leaving you trinkets from their journeys, bows and hair clips and pens that “just reminded me of you,” he murmured, almost embarrassed. The first day you’d worn one of his gifts, his whole face had brightened in a smile so wide that it made your heart hurt.

If you shivered, even for a moment, Yeosang was there, slipping his jacket from his shoulders and draping it over yours. He’d adjust it with such careful concentration, like it was the most important thing in the world.

Yunho kept insisting on holding your things - clipboards, trays of coffee, anything. You hadn’t held your own bag for a week solid now. He always looked so pleased, holding the handle tightly, as if you would snatch it away from him.

It was Jongho, in the end, that gave you the clue. Winter was well and truly in full force, and the bear hybrid could sleep for days at a time if he was allowed. The makeshift beds in the green room were essential, to the point where you had begun ensuring that soft supplies were kept ready in the company van.

“Comfortable?” You murmured, absentmindedly smoothing down a part of his hair that had stuck up when he snuggled in.

Jongho smiled softly over the curve of the blanket. “Wonderfully,” he murmured, “How long do I have?”

You checked the clock over the door. “About 7 minutes max,” you admitted with an unfortunate turn of your lips.

Jongho sighed in acceptance. “It’s okay noona,” he assured. There was a pause, a shift and then a tired voice said, “Stay with me?”

Such an innocent and sweet request, it made your chest tighten as if Jongho had just ripped you open. How could you refuse? You didn’t get into the nest, never would think to, but Jongho slipped a hand out of the seam of the cover, palm up, reaching for you.

His skin was so warm when you touch him. His fingers entwined with yours so sweetly, pulling it under the cover with him. You stayed like that, scared to shift or breathe incase you break this moment.

When Kyunghim came into get Jongho for his next schedule, you’d gone wide eyed, embarrassed and nervous. You stammered over an explanation, cheeks going pink.

Kyunghim had laughed, waved you off and wriggled his eyebrows teasingly. “He must like you.”

“Hyungnim,” Jongho gave a sleepy whine.

When he released your hand, it was left tingling and empty. Your fingers twitched. Jongho offered you a sweet smile. “Thank you noona.”

You watched them go, Jongho complaining at Kyunghim’s goodnatured teasing, but the words echoed around your head.

He must like you.

Maybe it wasn’t meant like that, you reasoned, maybe it was just a friendly statement but -

“Where’s your mind gone beautiful?”

You startled at Mingi’s voice, quiet and soft next to your ear. You turned to look at him out of the corner of your eye, watched the concerned arch of his eyebrow and the way that his fingers stilled in your hair. He’d taken to calling you beautiful recently, especially when he was brushing your hair out, like it was something just for the two of you.

You rolled your lips. “Just…thinking,” you said.

Mingi’s fingers picked up again, separating your hair into parts so he could plait it. That had started recently, when he’d flushed and smiled shyly before admitting he’d looked up how to do a braid for you.

“Do you want to share?” He prompted.

You know he won’t push it if you refuse. You did like that about Mingi - he was a solid presence, someone who could comfort you just by being there more than any words he could say. If anyone would tell you that you were imagining things and keep it private, it would be the fox.

You sighed, rolled your shoulders into yours. “I might be thinking too much into it,” you murmured. “And I don’t want anything to change between all of us.”

Mingi hummed. “Okay.”

“I think…Jongho has a crush on me,” you whispered it like a secret you weren’t supposed to share.

You felt the fingers hesitate for a moment before continuing. There was a long pause, as if Mingi was trying to figure out how to let you down gently and -

“He does.”

You inhaled too quickly and choked.

Mingi continued like he didn’t notice. The layering of the braid was careful, not a beat missed. “We all do.”

“What?” You tried to turn your head but Mingi ‘tsk’ed at you and warm fingers on your jaw encouraged you to stay forward. “Mingi, I-“

“We like you. You smell good, like you should be with us,” he explained quietly, honestly, “but you don’t notice the same way we do. So we’re courting you. Trying to court you.”

“Court me…” Your voice was weak.

“Hairband please,” Mingi asked and it took you a second to react, pull the piece of elastic - given by Seonghwa as a courting gift, oh my god - and passing it over your shoulder. You didn’t notice that your fingers were trembling until Mingi’s touched yours, the brush against your fingertips making you still.

He didn’t comment on it, just finished tying off the end of your braid. When it fell between your shoulder blades and Mingi’s hand slipped away, resting against his own thighs, he continued speaking, “You don’t have to accept anything,” he assured. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“But you like me? Like me like me?” You winced at how much you sounded like a kid.

Mingi huffed a laugh. “We do,” he agreed, “but that doesn’t mean you have to. Just tell us to stop. We’re big boys, we can deal with it.”

“Mingi, I…” you didn’t know what you were going say, the sentence trailing off and dying before it even started.

Mingi tugged at the end of your braid. “Hey, you don’t have to say anything now,” he promised, “take your time. We’ll wait for you.”

-

When you were a kid, you’d wanted to be a hybrid. You had grown up with your hybrid cousins - Beomgyu was older than you by three years, Peonghwa a year younger, both human and lion hybrid. Your aunt Grace was a beautiful lion, strong and vicious. She loved fiercely and you had never any doubt that she loved your uncle or you.

Your parents loved you but they were always busy - doctors who took turns taking night shifts and working long hours. Your uncle Eunwoo watched you most nights and so you were wrapped into their nuclear family so wonderfully. He was more like a father than your own.

You knew that Beom and Peong had an extra set of ears and you knew that your aunt had a tail where you didn’t, but you didn’t really know what that meant.

Beom told you, eyes reflecting his confusion. “It’s because mama is a hybrid.” He explained, “So I’m a hybrid.”

You thought for a moment. “Am I a hybrid?”

“No, you’re human.”

“But I want to be a hybrid, like you,” you frowned and then perked up to ask, “do you think auntie could make me a hybrid too?”

You had been devastated when auntie brushed her hand affectionately under your jaw and told you that you would always be human. You’d cried, those heavy uncontrollable sobs that children let out when it feels like their whole world is crashing down.

When your uncle was back from work, he held you close and swore you didn’t have to a hybrid to be a part of this family. That humans could be amazing too but a different kind of amazing.

For the first time, since you were an adult, you were struck with that same feeling of desperation to be something other than yourself.

If you were a hybrid, would things be different? Would you understand more innately? Would you too have fallen into like - it was too early to say love - just at a smell? Would you be filled with as much certainty as Mingi had been when he told you that they liked you?

With your thoughts whirling, you clicked through to the only person you could trust.

Uncle Eunwoo answered on the second ring, the warmth in his voice when he said your name immediately forcing tension from your shoulders.

“How are you? Are you coming to dinner on Sunday?” He asked, “Grace is planning on making a spread.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss Auntie’s cooking for the world,” you agreed, paused and then asked, “actually, this is less a catch up call and more…advice seeking?”

Uncle hummed. “Sounds serious.”

You fiddled with the loose threads on the end of your scarf. “I suppose so,” you murmured, “You and auntie…how did you know?”

You heard him huff a laugh. “Oh, that kind of advice,” he teased.

Your cheeks felt warm. “They seem to know, you know?” you stumbled over the words, “but we're humans, we don’t have…a sign, I guess. So how do you know?”

“How do you know anything?” Uncle mused, “you think it, you feel it, you wonder about it.”

“But what if you don’t know,” you pushed.

“Darling girl,” Eunwoo called you by your childhood nickname. “Is it that you don’t know or are you just scared to know?”

You don’t answer, but then you don’t have to. He continued, “Imagine neither of you were hybrids. You’re both human. How would you know? If they make your heart race, if you want to spend time with them, if you can see yourself with them for a longer time - however long that time might be - that’s enough for now.”

“So you think I should?” You asked.

“I think you would do whatever you think is best for you,” uncle corrected, “give it a try, reject them, pretend it’s not happening. Just do it because you want to, not because someone else tells you they have some innate attraction to you.”

As always, your uncle makes you feel more stable than you had before. You felt lighter, a weight lifted, and your smile felt easier.

He continued, “Now, let me know when you decide so I can prepare my shovel talk.”

“Uncle,” you whined.

He laughed. “What? Uncle duties, I demand the right.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately. “I’ll see you this weekend.”

It was your uncle’s words in your head - do it for you, no one else - that lingered in your mind the next day, when Hongjoong slipped close and asked you if you needed anything today. He looked so sweet, so earnest - it made your decision easier.

You hesitated, took a breath and straightened up. You made yourself bigger, made sure you kept eye contact and watched how Hongjoong visibly mimicked you, shoulders rising to meet your stance.

You had done your research, how to respond to each of your hybrids - when did you start thinking of them as yours? - to ensure their animals would understand your intentions. It was complicated, you had so many notes on your phone app for each of them.

You were so nervous that you thought you might be sick and you hoped that Mingi hadn’t misread the situation, that it was the truth and that this -

Hongjoong shuddered a breath.

You smiled, wide and honest. “Thank you for looking after me, Hongjoong-ah.”

You watched as the red panda’s lips parted, words caught in his throat, as his eyes curving at the edges. They practically melted in front of you.

Hongjoong licked his lips nervously and reached out with shaky hands, pressed his fingers into the soft fabric of your jumper. “I…” he croaked, stopped, cleared his throat, “why did you do that?”

Was it not obvious? “I wanted to let you know,” you rasped.

“Yeah?” His voice was hopeful, uncertain.

“Yeah.”

Hongjoong’s face softened and the way he looked at you - god, it made your heart flutter. It was gentle, like you were the most precious thing to him. Yes, you had made the right choice, you were sure about that.

-

Word spreads quickly, though you really shouldn’t be surprised. Hongjoong had been swept away in the flurry of work and you had barely had time to process what had just happened beyond a shared wistful smile. Such a simple action that meant so much.

Now, that the day was over and you were heading back to the shared dorm, the air around you seemed to thrum with excitement. As soon as you entered the van, Wooyoung had claimed your hand in his, fingers intertwined, and dragged them into his lap. It was comfortable, like it always should be. You kept looking at him, at how relaxed and sure he appeared, out of the corner of your eye.

Every time he caught you, Wooyoung shot you a winning smile.

He still hadn’t let go now that you were in the dorm, tugging you through familiar halls. He didn’t even let you stop to take your shoes off yourself and, much to your burning embarrassment, San ducked to help you like it was his duty.

Wooyoung only released you when you were all in the living room. You perched on an armchair, gave you some illusions of space while the boys spread around you, surrounding, waiting, trying not to push.

Still, their eyes - hopeful, nervous, potent with it all - followed every shift, every wiggle, every flick.

Under it all, you couldn’t help but feel inadequate. Feel like they were wrong in it all. What if this was a mistake of instinct? A misreading? You’d known that to happen. God, you didn’t know if you’d survive this all being some cruel trick -

Long fingers slipped around your wrist, dragging you from your spiralling thoughts. Yunho was leaning from his seat, the one closest to you, arms outstretched, eyes earnest and smile oh so bright. “You’re thinking too loud,” he commented.

You blushed pink. “Maybe. This is a….”

“A lot,” Yeosang offered sweetly.

You agreed, “a lot. But a good a lot. I hope.”

“We hope so too,” San murmured. He was trying to appear casual, leaning backwards, arms thrown over the back of the sofa but you could read the tension in his shoulders, in the way his eyes didn’t quite want to leave you.

“I…Mingi said…you,” you pressed your lips together in frustration, nerves getting the best of you.

Yunho smoothed his finger down the raising pulse in your wrist. Oddly, it did relax you, enough to get your words out. “You like me.”

“Yes.” Hongjoong answered for everyone.

“Because of my scent?”

The red panda angled his head. “Yes. At least, our hybrids know what you should be here, with us. The part that aren’t run by animal instincts also like you. Very much.”

You flushed and your lips twitched into a smile you couldn’t control. It was heart racing and wonderful to hear such an honest answer. “I like you too,” you murmured, a quiet confession, “I don’t have the same…instinct that you do, but I want to try and see where this goes. I do have some ground rules though.”

The boys straightened up, eyebrows furrowing as if to show their concentration, how seriously they were taking this. You knew it wasn’t a show, they would listen to what you had to say and do whatever they could to abide by it. You trusted that of them.

You had made notes in your phone of what you wanted to say and read them over and over again before you made your final decision. They came to you now, easy to remember. “This doesn’t cross the boundary of work. I am still your caretaker and I won’t do anything to jeopardise you or my job.”

“Understood,” Seonghwa bounced his head.

“If there’s something that is affecting your hybrid to do with me and our relationship, you have to let me know. I want you to communicate your needs with me.” This was a fear of yours, that your lack of animal understanding would cause problems, arguments, tension and the ultimate explosion of relationships. If they were going to date a human, they needed to act like it was a human relationship to some extent, you reasoned.

“Of course,” Mingi agreed smoothly.

“Lastly, I…I’ve never done this before,” you confessed, “dating a pack. It’s different. I don’t know what to expect.”

Yunho traced a heart over your pulse point. You looked at him then, at the soft and dopey look on his face and asked, “What does that look like?”

He answered honestly, “Whatever you want it to look like pretty.”

You felt warm at the new nickname and irritated by the nothing answer.

It must have been easy to sense because it was Hongjoong could spoke. “Every pack is different right? So every pack relationship is different. Some of us want to be scent marked all the time, some of us just need a hug every once in a while.” He explained carefully.

You knew that to be true, you supposed. Wooyoung, San, Seonghwa and Yunho tended to be the ones who initiated touch with the others (and you, come to think of it) on a daily basis. You were pretty sure that if San could live attached to somebody’s back, he would. Hongjoong tensed when he was kissed but smiled fondly when his pack member walked away. Mingi would rest his head on shoulders when he needed to sleep or was feeling particularly stressed. Yeosang tended to recoil from contact but if asked first, he’d melt into the touch as quickly as any other. Jongho tended to have the biggest reactions but he never fought anyone off or refused their affection, just bore it with a pout.

Hongjoong continued, “We’ll find our balance with you, and you’ll find a balance with us. If we’re being too much, just say.”

You moved your free hand, slipping it over Yunho’s and watched him visibly perk up with a smile. “It hasn’t been so far. I like touch.”

You got an encouraging smile in return. “Other than that,” Hongjoong said, “We just want you with us, in whatever way your comfortable. You in our lives. Your scent in our den.”

That was a serious thing to hear from a hybrid, you knew, and a wave of delighted heat went through you. “Do I really smell that good?” You said, almost joking.

When Jongho smiled, he flashed all his teeth. “Baby,” he said calmly, “you’re addicting.”

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a/n: please comment, like and reblog if you enjoyed this chapter. part 3 is coming soon!

fic taglist: @ramadiiiisme @user0100101110 @0-breezy-0 @heyyyyyymacarena @thuyting @ssangx8 @shadow-tumbler @chari-a @star-shinelight23 @ineedfreehugz @giiouis @landsharkfandomtrash @soso59love-blog @jiiimtaee @sangis-puppy @yoongisgirl69 @f1-lh44 @answer-the-sirens @ayayaetato @cherryandsugar @j4mergy @agustdxjiminx @w0nwgyu @bleubirdinthesky @jaderose823 @imagine-all-the-imagines @deepbluelune @atinystay-xxx @uniq-tastic @m00njinnie @baw-sixteen @mrsminseochoi @itsmooniebaby

[redemptions]

I sawyour request for Yeosang or Jongho or both and i am here!!

Hear me out: JongSang hate cuddles and kisses from everybody else and fight them off from everybody all day every day EXCEPT! At the end of the day whe they're exhausted and their partner (reader) looks particularly bed-shaped. So the reader gets all the snuggles

Bonus extra idea: sending a pic of them both asleep on reader to the ateez group chat like "yall wish you were me" and letting the chat explode

omg yes yes thank you!! I love the idea, so soft. jongho and yeo being soft with reader is just 🥹🥹🥹

I couldn't fit the bonus idea in the story naturally so adding this thought - reader posts her boys on the private instagram being soft with her and immediately gets different notifications from the members (mostly San and Woo, at least one from Mingi) demanding that she release the secret because they want jongsang hugs too. jongho would put them all on mute because the phone buzzing is interrupting cuddle time

wc: 743

genre: drabble, fluff, established relationship, poly jongho x fem!reader x yeosang, physical affection, pet names (reader called baby and my girl)

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if there was one thing that their fans knew, it was that Yeosang and Jongho were not fans of physical touch. The members knew it too, though they were ones to push whenever they had the opportunity. It was more for the hilarity of it, and if any serious boundary was going to be crossed, they would never break it.

San would make a show of pout when Yeosang initially jerked away from his hugs. Jongho would give the evils to anyone who looked in his direction with the thought, usually Wooyoung.

even with each other, in the private quiet, they didn't reach for each other to show their care of each other.

sometimes Yeosang would brush loose strands of hair from Jongho's head, smiling softly and openly, and murmuring that he looked so handsome today.

sometimes Jongho would adjust a folded collar or a twisted sleeve, fingers lingering on Yeosang's forearm or neck until the older man turned pink and had to look away.

they never had to broadcast their relationship or confirm their love to anyone. it just was.

but it was completely different when it came to you.

they could spend a day fighting off hugs and holds, only to come home and demand yours. it always made you laugh, how much they argued and denied the affections of their members, when they were such cuddle bugs with you.

on late nights, you'd stay up waiting for them, curled up in your shared bed, wearing one of their shirts. you'd hear the buzz of the electronic lock, the shuffling of shoes, the sigh of bodies exhausted from dance and interviews and variety shows.

jongho usually got to you first, pushing the door open quietly just in case you'd fallen asleep. even dozing, you tried to stay up enough to catch the smiles of your men when they saw you. never failed to make your heart skip a beat or soothe any relationship worries.

it was the same now, your beautiful boys looking at you like you hung the moon and stars. you were sure you looked at them the same way, eyes sparkling in the low light, peeking over the edges of your phone.

"hey baby," yeosang cooed. "we missed you."

you laughed. "you literally spoke to me 10 minutes ago."

they always called you when they were about to leave.

"too long," jongho insisted.

he tugged his socks off his feet between each step he took to the bed before laying himself across your lap. your hands went to his hair, soft strands slipping between your fingers. you could see the tension leaving his body at such a simple touch, eyes fluttering shut, a low exhale slipping past his pretty lips.

"how are you going to cope when you go on tour?" you teased.

"well, you're coming with us obviously," yeosang explained as if it were obvious. he walked to the other side of the bed and rolled into the empty spot. you moved your arm so he could slot underneath it, cheek smooshed against your collarbone. he looked up at you from there and stuck his bottom lip out, a silly pout that had you lowering your head to kiss it away.

"obviously," you repeated, a whisper against his lips.

Yeosang's hands slipped into Jongho's hair too, tugged on the strands gently. "for our health," he said.

"and sanity," jongho added. he looked at you both through his lashes, a languid caress of each of his lover's faces. "so really, you have to come."

you ever say yes or no, though you know they both want you too. you can't guarantee any long time away from work and it would break your heart to have to go back on your promise. you do hope, one day, you'd be able to travel the world with them.

its Jongho's turn to angle his chin up and press his lips together. "I'm ready losing it because my girl hasn't kissed me yet."

you rolled your eyes but obliged. how could you not? he always kissed you like you were precious, this languid slide of lips that made you warm and shivery.

later, when they fell asleep, it was always surrounding you. jongho rested his head on your chest, forehead pressed against your neck. Yeosang's head on your opposite shoulder, hand reaching out to grasp at the sleeve of Jongho's jumper.

you're caged and warm but wouldn't have it any other way.

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🏷️ @quaxing-lour @yizhou-time @jpow345 @princelingperfect @aireagle92 @sourlimesoda @livonianmaia @wolfhallows4 @dachshunddame @glowingsoup @devilzliaison @stxrrywoo @minkieater @moooonadroses @arieltwvdtohamflash @koztion @sangis-puppy @sunnysidesins @huntress-artemiss @sh1n3-4h4na @aethnie @@diearama @Satsuri3su @btsgangleader @chandlxa @itsmooniebaby (join the taglist)

[redemptions]

keeping secrets

pairing: Yeosang x fem!reader x jongho

genre: fluff, suggestiveness, some angst, the others think you and Jongho are cheating on Yeosang

wc: 2.9k

summary: the three of you never thought to label your relationship or be any more than what you were. unfortunately that can lead to problems.

a/n: i want to write more for this pairing, my favourite boys together. this was originally inspired by a prompt that I read wrong but by that point, I was already lost in the sauce so...

masterlist // requests: open

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Yeosang likes to kiss you in the kitchen first thing in the morning. 

You’re always the first up, climbing over Jongho’s prone form to get out of the bed, and you stumble your way to turn on the kettle. It’s always just reached its boiling point when Yeosang appears, eyes droopy, sleep clinging to the edges of his mind. He’ll slip behind you, arms curving comfortably around your waist, and rest his head against your shoulder while you pour the hot water on your tea bag. 

While it’s brewing, you turn, your own arms sliding up the muscular plains of his chest to hook behind his neck. You would murmur your good mornings and he’d hum in acknowledgement, before dipping his head and pressing his lips to yours.

Yeosang kisses like he has all the time in the world, even when that is absolutely not the case. The slide of lips is slow and deep, the kind that makes your head hazy and your body feel like it was on a tightrope. His hands would move to cup your jaw, angle it just right to get what he wants and you always gave it willingly.

You’d stand there, wrapped in each other, until your tea bordered on lukewarm most days. Other days, the ones when Jongho’s alarm blared incessantly from the bedroom, he would find you both and drag you under his arms until he felt ready to face the day.

It’s a routine you love, in the quiet recess of exam papers, study groups and encroaching deadlines. You can’t say the exact moment when it started, your little romantic triangle. Definitely by second year, you had all folded and entrapped yourself around each other, tethered yourself so completely. If someone asked if there was a moment, you’d say no.

But there had been a feeling.

A feeling that grew and bloomed into this heart aching love you felt for both of them, and they felt for you.

You’d never labelled it, never introduced yourself as boyfriends or girlfriends or anything of the sort. But if anyone expressed a romantic interest, the answer was always the same - a tight smile, a shake of a head and a polite refusal.

“I’m sorry, I’m not available.”

If Jongho had a class to attend, he’d drag one of you into the shower with him, hands curled under your bare thighs, warm water beating firmly on your back. On days that you did, Yeosang would put out clothes for you to wear, a mixture of yours and theirs, and watch with interested eyes as his lovers dressed.

Whatever your day looked like, you always ended up pinning them to the bed to press loving kisses to their soft skin and without a doubt, would be running late once more.

You hadn’t said I love you yet but the truth of it was shared in every look, every touch, every whisper of affection.

They were your boys. You were theirs.

That’s all that mattered.

-

When San sees you walking with Yeosang, hand in hand, he feels absolute delight for his friend. You had been on the periphery of their friendship group since first year, ducking in and out of social interactions with a soft smile and quiet energy. 

You fit well with Yeosang, he thought, giving off the same 'comfortable in silence' energy. He is pleased to see the way his friend’s eyes light up when the talk about you, the barely there smile he gives when you’re mentioned and the way he laughs more, not bothering to hide the way he grins behind his hands.

And then he sees you with Jongho.

It is in the library, tucked into a quiet corner. Books are spread out in front of you both, open to whatever theorist you were citing for your upcoming essay. Jongho ducks his head and mutters something that makes you snort a laugh, face brightening instantly. From his angle, San can see Jongho looking at you with such open fondness but he doesn’t have a second to question it before he is leaning forward and pressing his lips to yours.

It’s nothing more than a peck but the intention is there is the way it lingers, in the way that you don’t recoil away and the way that Jongho is smiling at you so lovingly when you finally do pull back.

It’s like San has been doused in cold water.

Jongho is his friend, just like Yeosang is. He thought they were friends too. How could Jongho do this to Yeosang? How could you do it to Yeosang?

When he whispers what he saw to Seonghwa - the oldest, surely he’ll know what to do - the other man shakes his head and asks, “are you sure that’s what you saw?”

“Positive,” San insists, “why would I lie about this?”

So they watch. Just the two of them at first, but then the others slowly join in.

The entire friendship group becomes heartbreakingly aware that something was going on.

During movie nights at the shared dorm of Wooyoung and San, you’d curl up under Yeosang’s arm, head resting on his chest but you’d warm your feet under Jongho’s thighs.

During early morning class, Yunho notices you doze against Jongho’s shoulder while wearing Yeosang’s hoodie. He watches as Jongho brushes hair from your face with the gentleness of someone who thinks you’ll break beneath him.

While getting coffee at lunch, Wooyoung watches as you bump ankles with Jongho under the table while you share a crepe cake with Yeosang, teasing him for the matcha cream that gets dabbed on his nose.

“Do you think Yeosang knows?” Mingi worries his bottom lip, eyebrows furrowed. He, like all of them, were struggling with the idea that Yeosang could be betrayed by those he held dear.

Wooyoung shook his head. He’d known Yeosang for longest and took the hurt of his friend seriously. “He’d have said something if he did,” Wooyoung said.

Yunho let out a long breath. “Does that mean we need to tell him?”

“I guess so,” Hongjoong agrees reluctantly. He huffs and scratches at his jaw. “I just can’t believe that Jongho would…” he shook his head, as if to dislodge the very idea from his brain. “We’ll speak to him tonight.”

Seonghwa braces himself for destruction, for absolute emotional turmoil as a world collapses around himself. He is surprised to get…confusion.

Yeosang is leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees and fingers interlocked together. His friends were surrounding him, serious and sorrowful expressions on their faces, and Yeosang would admit, he didn’t really understand why.

“Jongho and…” he says your name.

San nods firmly. “I didn’t want to believe it,” he says, “but I saw it with my own two eyes.”

“Oh, okay.” Yeosang says.

And Wooyoung explodes, standing up so quickly that his chair rocks back a few inches. “But it’s not okay!” He declares, “Jongho is your friend and…how could they?”

“Whatever you want you need from us,” Yunho says earnestly, “we’ll be here. We’re on your side.”

Yeosang blinks, startled. Honestly, he had never really thought about what your relationship looked like on the outside. He always reaches for you, out of habit at this point, an instinct deep inside himself. When Mingi had asked if you were a ‘thing’, he had flushed, ducked his head and muttered, “something like that.”

He had never explained that this ‘thing’ wasn’t just between the two of you. That Jongho had fit so seamlessly into their relationship that Yeosang was pretty sure that it wouldn’t exist without him.

Looking at his friends, so concerned, so hurt for him, he was struck by the uncomfortable mix of warm affection and abject horror.

“Have you…spoken to Jongho about this?” He asks quietly.

Seonghwa answers, “not yet. We…didn’t know what to say.”

Good, good. “Let me talk to him,” Yeosang says, already pushing himself to stand, knowing that you and Jongho would be back at their shared flat, making dinner for them all, blissfully unaware of this conversation taking place. “I’ll…get back to you.”

-

“The guys think you’re cheating on me.”

Your fingers pause, mixing spoon stilling in your grasp. Yeosang is standing in the doorway to the kitchen, cheeks flushed, eyes widened with worry. He’s still wearing his coat, his shoes haphazardly left in the entryway as he stumbled towards you both. Jongho freezes as well, clutching three ramen bowls to his chest.

He furrows his eyebrows at Yeosang. “They what?”

“Wooyoung asked me to come to his to drop off those class notes,” Yeosang explains, “but it wasn’t that. It was like…an intervention. San saw you two kissing in the library.”

Your heart is pounding, the beating loud in your ears. You hadn’t done anything wrong, you knew you hadn’t, your boys did as well - but the very idea that someone thought that you would…

Anxiety climbs its way up your back to jam itself down your throat until you choke on it.

They had been treating you differently, you realise, now that you’re thinking about it. Smiles that didn’t quite reach eyes, conversations that went quiet when you approached, the bodies placing themselves firmly, like a guard, between yourself and Jongho. You hadn’t thought anything about at it at the time, slipping into Yeosang’s warm grasp as you always had.

But now, the words ‘cheat’ echo in your mind.

Your fingers are shaking when Jongho wraps his hand around yours, tugging you from your thoughts. He looks at you with soft concerned eyes, tinged with the pained understanding that his friends believe he would hurt Yeosang like that. It would be worse for him, you realise, they’re more Jongho’s friends than yours and…

“Baby,” Yeosang coos. He moves beside you, cold hands slipping around your waist, another around Jongho’s wrist to hold him there. “They don’t know.”

“They’re trying to look out for you,” Jongho murmurs and closes his eyes briefly, fighting off the wave of emotion that swells through him. His lovers can tell that he’s rocking, trying not to let his discomfort, his sadness overwhelm him. You squeeze his fingers. Yeosang dips his head to Jongho’s shoulder, lets it rest there for a moment.

“I know we never,” you swallow, “we’ve never spoken about it but I would, I’d stand with you. Both of you. You know that right?”

“I just never considered what it would look like,” Jongho whispers. He huffs a wet laugh. “Silly right? Of course it looks wrong. You were Yeosang’s first.”

You shake your head at the same time Yeo does. “It doesn’t matter, because I’m yours now,” you say. “Both of yours. And you’re mine.”

“For however long you want us,” Yeosang answers.

Despite the worried sickness in your stomach, you smile at the certainty in his voice. “So forever.”

“Forever,” Jongho whispers back.

The three of you eat dinner together in silence, not quite uncomfortable but definitely layered with unexpected tension. Each of you are lost in thoughts, wrapped in fears of relationships beyond your own, of rumours and discussions of bad character.

When you all crawl into bed - Yeosang’s that night - you settle between them like you always do. Your head rests on Jongho’s solid chest while Yeosang is curled against your shoulder, arms stretched out to hold you both. You feel weighed down, happy you weren’t going to float away.

Yeosang speaks quietly, afraid to disturb the peace. “I can tell them tomorrow if you want. Just me.”

Jongho is already shaking his head. “No, it should be all of us.”

“I want to be there to tell them,” you add, “I want them to know that I love you. Both of you.”

Yeosang presses kisses into your collarbone while Jongho angles your chin upwards to slot his lips against yours, firm, solid. Between each breath, they whisper their love into your skin, until you are bruised with it, until you are heady and gasping and trembling with it.

You drag your teeth along Jongho’s throat and leave bite marks on Yeosang’s thighs, each one a promise of forever.

It’s comforting, you think, to wear their marks as they wear yours when you are slipping into Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s dorm room just after lunch the next day. Maybe you’re imagining the dark looks, the strange tension in the air, the way they are mentally cursing you, but it still makes you shrink. Like you’d done something wrong.

Jongho takes your coat to hang up, like he always does, and yet it feels like you’ve committed a sin. He gives you a tight smile, eyes drooped sadly at the edges and you imagine he feels the same.

Though you stand together, Yeosang is the one who speaks for you. “I…love that you guys care about me but there’s been a misunderstanding,” he says, “jongho and — are not having an affair.”

Yunho is quick to say, “we wouldn’t lie dude. Not about this.”

Yeosang puts his palms up. “No, no, I know you wouldn’t, you just…didn’t see the full picture.”

“What are we missing about the fact that Jongho kissed your girlfriend?” Wooyoung demands.

Yeosang hunches his shoulders, an embarrassed smile crossing his face. “Because Jongho was kissing his girlfriend.”

Mingi’s eyebrows furrowed. “Wait, but I thought-“

“We are,” Yeosang interjects.

“We both are.” Jongho murmurs.

Hongjoong’s eyes jump between you all. “So you three-“

“-are together,” you finish. “Dating, I guess.”

“We never really labeled it,” Yeosang adds, “but then we never really thought about how it looks either.”

San snorts. “Yeah, no shit. I thought we were going to break your heart.”

“Not break it,” Yeosang says, “but definitely made me think of a few things. I don’t care about broadcasting our relationship, but I do if it makes it seem like Jongho and — are doing something wrong. Because they’re not. They’re prefect.”

The last word slides out like a confession and you both go pink. He smiles shyly at you and you can’t help but smile back.

“Then we’re sorry, for any hurt we might have caused,” Seonghwa says, calm and polite, always the peace keeper.

You shake your head. “You love your friends,” you say, “you wanted to protect them. I appreciate that.”

And you did. Even in the swirl of worry and pain, you were grateful that Yeosang and Jongho had friends who were heartbroken for them, were disgusted by the thought of betrayal.

“We said really horrible things about you,” Hongjoong admits, anger no longer permeating his body.

“I figured,” you murmur.

Wooyoung turns to land a firm punch into Yeosang’s shoulder, who yelped in surprise, and then a solid kick to Jongho’s leg, who recoils.

“Why didn’t you tell us that you were dating?” He demands, “you made me worry! I was ready to burn bridges for you. Why you wasting my energy like that?”

It’s a joke laden with truth, settling the tension in the room to something more familiar, something friendly. Wooyoung was good at that, you knew, making the room feel lighter even after such a difficult conversation.

Yunho snickers, and San cracks a smile. The tension leaves Jongho’s shoulders in an instant and Yeosang complains goodnaturedly that his arm hurts.

“Good,” Wooyoung shot back, “I wasted all my best insults on a situation that didn’t need it. Deal with the consequences.”

It turns into a proper hangout, Yunho taking over the TV so that you could play Mario Kart. Yeosang is hunched over his controller, focused so intensely on winning - because when it comes to Mario Kart, your usual calm boyfriend becomes a maniac - that he barely registers your hand sliding through his hair.

Jongho is settled next to you, arm flung over the back of the sofa, so that when you lean back, you are caught underneath. Any leftover anxiety is washed away when Mingi suddenly asks, a curious crease to his forehead, “in Mario Kart, if Jong and Yeo are playing, who do you root for?”

You snort your surprised laugh. “Depends on who has annoyed me that day.”

Mingi nods sagely, like that makes the most perfect sense, and turns his head back to the screen just in time for Hongjoong to hit him with a green shell.

After crossing the finish line, Yeosang angles his head back against you and smiles sweetly. His eyes are soft, light with happiness as he watches you both, his lovers, his people. You smooth your hand down his forehead, along the bridge of his nose, and Yeosang catches your hand to press a kiss to the back. Behind you, Jongho moves to put his head on your shoulder, hot breath against your neck as he presses a kiss there, his hand moving to entwine in Yeosang’s loose curls.

You love these moments, the times when the world slips away and it’s just the three of you.

Beyond you, San groans. “Get a room,” he grips and chucks a pillow in your direction.

Jongho moves his hand in time to knock it away before wriggling his eyebrows suggestively at his hyung. “You offering yours?” He jokes.

San looks aghast. Yeosang’s eyes crease in embarrassment. Hongjoong pats San on the shoulder with mock comfort as he says, “you kind of walked into that one.”

-

When you try to climb out of bed that morning, it’s Jongho who pulls you down, heavy arm tightening around you to hold you closer. Yeosang wakes up at the movement, looks at you both over the edge of the duvet with sleepy eyes.

“I need to get ready,” you murmur into Jongho’s chest.

He makes a noise of disagreement. “5 more minutes.”

Yeosang snuggles closer, his head resting against Jongho’s pec, next to your own. “5 more minutes,” he agrees. You huff but don’t argue, let yourself enjoy this moment just a little bit longer.

---------------------------------------

a/n: asks, comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[redemptions]

It takes a village

pairing: yeosang x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 2.7k

summary: you haven’t had a day to yourself since your baby was born. This means that yeosang gets a daddy daughter daughter but that wasn’t really going to happen with seven uncles.

authors note: i watched the daycare episode with Bom and became obsessed with dad!yeosang.

masterlist // request: open

——————————————————————————

You were nervous, Yeosang could tell. It was in the way that you had dragged yourself out of bed a little slower, took just that little bit more time in the shower, changed your outfit twice more than usual; held on to your little girl just a little bit tighter. Micha didn’t seem to mind though - the five month old was quiet, contently sucking on her dummy while cradled in her mother’s arms. She was an image of peace while your face next to hers only showed abject fear.

“Are you sure?” You asked for what must have been the 100th time. “I could always call my mum and-“

Yeosang interrupted. “Jagiya,” his voice was soft, warm. Your words stopped and you chewed your bottom lip. He stepped closer and cupped your jaw, using his thumb to drag your lip away from the clutches of your front teeth. “You’re going to make yourself bleed.”

You blinked up at him and Yeosang couldn’t help leaning forward to kiss you. You accepted it - you always did - and when you sighed, the tension left your shoulders.

“Mi and I will be fine,” he reassured when they parted, “I can look after her.”

Your eyes went wide, and reassurances that it wasn’t his skills as a father that you were worried about. He kissed you again.

He knew that wasn’t the case. The point was that you couldn’t bear to leave your child alone with anyone. Micha had been a blessing, a complete upheave of their life in a way that neither of them had fully been prepared for. You had taken to parenthood well, embracing every facet of what it meant to be a mother because you couldn’t even think about doing something wrong. There had been downs - a lot of downs at the beginning - and Yeosang had to step in, firmer than he had ever been before, to force to you look after yourself as well.

That’s what today was about. Your mother and sister was taking you on a girl’s day - no ifs, and or buts. Yeosang was accepted for you. Forced relaxation was relaxation all the same.

“You’ll call me,” you asked, “if you need me?”

Like hell he would. “Of course,” he promised. “And you’ll enjoy the spa and not call me every five minutes, right?”

You cringed, caught out. Yeosang nudged your nose with his. “Jagi…”

You huffed and agreed.

Yeosang looked down at his daughter, who watched him with identical eyes. He couldn’t help the smile, and his finger brushed her soft cheek. “We’re going to have a good time together, you and I, yeah?”

Watching Yeosang be a dad, absolutely heart pounding and in love with your daughter, was something you loved to watch. Even with the anxiety pumping through you, it softened you, made you love him ten times more. It would be fine, you told yourself. They would be fine.

In all honesty, you knew you needed the break. You needed to step out of this house without a stroller or nappy bag. You needed adult time. You’d confessed to your mum how hard it was to let go and she had hummed in understanding. “That is your precious baby,” she had explained, “You carried her for 9 months and now she’s out in the world, and the world is terrifying.”

“It’s like losing a limb,” you expressed.

She clutched your hands. “I wish I could say it changes but it doesn’t really,” your mum admitted, “Even now, I only feel better when all my children are in my house. You just have to trust others to take care. Trust Yeosang. He’d never let anything happen to that baby.”

You repeated those words to yourself as Yeosang lifted Micha into his arms, cradling her close. Micha jerked her head to watch her father. She liked doing that. She watched her dad a lot.

Your phone buzzed in your bag and you knew that was your sister, letting you know they were outside. You swallowed around the bubble of nerves.

“Okay, I’m going,” you said, reluctantly. You moved close to press a kiss to your daughter’s forehead, lingering, closing your eyes and breathing in her scent. “I love you baby girl.”

When you opened your eyes and moved away, Yeosang kissed you again. “Have fun,” he ordered.

You let out a wet laugh, blinking your eyes and trying not to cry. “Okay, okay. I love you.”

Yeosang lifted Micha’s little hand and waved it. “Bye-bye mama,” he made his voice high pitched, “I love you too.”

Shutting the door was hard. Your legs felt like lead walking down the steps and in the car, your family dutifully did not mean the red rim of your eyes.

With you gone, Yeosang sighed and hoped you actually got the time to relax. Then he looked at his daughter, and smiled. “It’s a father-daughter day, what should be do first?”

-

Micha was, not so surprisingly, the most relaxed of babies. She preferred to be held, little fingers curling around the fabric of the shirt of whoever had her in their arms that day. When put down, she would make unhappy coos and wiggle until she was picked up again. Sometimes, when put on her play mat, she could be satisfied with the toys around her, especially the sensory ones.

Yeosang had put her down while he washed up from breakfast. As he cleaned, he spoke, reciting what he was doing and asking for her opinions on different breakfast foods. She didn’t answer, of course, but once she spit out her dummy, she hummed and smacked her lips together so he took that to mean she very much was looking forward to the time she could try pancakes.

When his hands were dry, Yeosang crouched down at his daughter’s side. She wiggled and turned her head to look at him, suddenly so much more engrossed in him than any of the toys around her. His mum said that Micha was like him as a baby, quiet but observant, always taking in something.

“At least, until you started talking,” his mum joked, “then you never stopped.”

Honestly, he couldn’t wait for that point. He wanted every experience with his baby girl.

He spread himself on the floor next to her, put a hand on her tummy and hummed sweet songs at her. Micha tried to turn her body, was getting more confident with turning her head, but hadn’t quite gotten the hang of it just yet. She hiccuped and kicked her legs out, as if indigent she wasn’t being held yet.

Yeosang laughed. “Okay, okay, I got you,” he promised, and sat up to lift her into his arms. Micha settled immediately, shoving her head into the curve of his shoulder. He ran his fingers through the soft strands of hair at the back of her neck. They were starting to curl and he was enamoured by them.

When the doorbell rang, Yeosang frowned and Micha jerked her head back as if to ask him ‘who’s that?”

He had gotten used to standing up one handed. “I don’t know,” he murmured, “Let’s go find out.”

Yeosang looked at the doorbell camera and shouldn’t have been surprised to see Wooyoung’s face pressed up again it. Behind him, he could see the corner of Hongjoong’s jaw and a line of jackets, which he recognised immediately. “Yeo,” Woo called, his voice crackling through the speaker, “Open up.”

Yeosang pressed the speaker to answer, “I didn’t invite you.”

Wooyoung looked insulted. “We lived together for years,” he insisted, “We don’t need an invitation.”

In the camera, Yeosang watched, amused, as Woo was elbowed away and Seunghwa took his place. He smiled brightly into the camera. “We come bearing lunch,” he said, lifting his arm to show the takeaway bags.

Yeosang pondered for a second and looked down at Micha. Her eyes were on the video, watching the members closely. “What do you think, huh?” He asked, “Should we let them in?”

Micha tapped his chest a few times and blew a spit bubble. He took that as a yes.

-

Yeosang would never admit it but he’d been immensely grateful for his members since you had first told him, eyes wet and deepened with worry, that your period was late. He’d held it together for you, hugged you close, whispered all the comforting words he knew you needed to hear. He was honest when he told you they’d weather any storm together, that you’d be a fantastic mother, that he would understand if she wasn’t ready - but when you had fallen asleep, Yeosang had called Hongjoong in a panic, chest tight, breathless, and confessed that I fucked up, what am I going to do?

Yeosang had held you together but his members, they had held him.

As soon as Micha had been born, Yeosang was sure they fell in love faster than he did. The first baby ATEEZ. Seonghwa and Mingi cried, though they tried to hide it. San puffed up your pillows and rearranged the congratulations flowers that had been at your bed side, all the while refusing to take his eyes off the wiggling tiny body. Woo and Yunho fought over who got to hold Micha first, and then pouted when Jongho was given the days old baby to cradle. Hongjoong had been wide eyed, terrified he was going to hurt her, but was always quick to offer to feed her or change a nappy or sing her to sleep.

Yeah, Yeosang was lucky.

“Cha cha,” Woo sang his nickname as soon as he entered the apartment, kicking off his shoes in the entryway and reaching out his hands to pluck the baby away.

San put an arm around his shoulder to yank Wooyoung out of the way. “No way,” he refused, “if you have her first, no one else will get Cha’s cuddles.”

“She’s coming to her favourite uncle first,” Mingi interrupted, “Isn’t that right Cha?”

He poked her nose and her eyes crossed as she followed his fingers. Her nose scrunched up in the most adorable way when contact was made.

“Favourite uncle is definitely Jongho,” Yunho laughed, “He sings her to sleep.”

“I’ll sing to her,” Mingi argued.

Yeosang arched an eyebrow. “Did nobody come to see me?”

“Not really, no,” Jongho answered quickly. Yeosang flicked his forehead in revenge and then passed Micha to him before he could retaliate. The maknae held the baby girl close to him and immediately softened, muttering greetings and compliments.

“The food is for you,” Hongjoong offered.

“Thank you Hyung,” Yeosang sniffed, “At least someone remembers me.”

“If Micha could eat solid foods, she’d have your portion,” Seunghwa teased, before walking the path to the living room to sort out the takeaway containers. He nudged Yeosang’s shoulder affectionately as he passed.

Yeosang looked at his daughter. “See? Look how your uncles treat me,” he told her.

Micha pursed her lips and huffed. He took that to mean ‘I know appa, they’re so mean to you. I’ll love you best forever.’

-

You arrived home 4 hours and 20 minutes after you left. Yes, you had been counting, checking the time on your phone and counting them down. It was the hardest time of your life but you were so glad you had done. Your mum and your sister, both parents in their own right, had understood exactly. There was no pushing, no eye rolls or statements that ‘you’re being silly’. In fact, they just acted like it was any other day and it felt like you could breathe a little easier. You could feel what you were feeling and enjoy a good spa day.

You’d had a deep tissue massage, had a pedicure and a facial. You had a cocktail, had a fruit platter and shared updated photos of the grandchildren. By the time you were dropped off, you were calmer, and more than ready to have your baby back in your arms.

You skipped up the stairs to your apartment door, typed in the door code quickly and opened the door to a living room full of people. You shouldn’t have been surprised. Since Micha was born, your home was basically the unofficial dorm room. There were drinks on the coffee table, baby toys scattered everywhere; bodies stretched out and lying across your sofas.

Yeosang was on the floor and when he looked up at you, he beamed. “Jagiya, you’re back,” he pushed himself to his feet and approached to wrap his arms around you. He nudged your nose and kissed you soundly, ignoring the pretend gagging from the members around him, “How was your day?”

“Good,” you murmured and admitted, “needed.”

“Your mama and appa are so gross,” Wooyoung teased, Micha’s little hands in his as he moved them as if dancing. This was a position he enjoyed, legs bend so Micha could brace herself against him, and her fingers wrapped around his own. Usually, Micha would not be able to tear her eyes away from her uncle, but at the sound of your voice, she had turned to look up at you. Her legs stretched out and she blinked at you.

You needed to hold her, like now. You made grabby hands. “Give me my baby,” you demanded. Wooyoung teased you but lifted Micha under her arms until you could wrap her in yours. Your shoulders felt lighter, your heart sped up. You pressed kissed across her plump, rosy cheeks. “My baby girl,” you cooed, “Did you miss me? I missed you.”

Micha made a noise like a squeak, a noise of agreement, and gave you her version of kisses - open mouthed, spit ridden pressed of her lips against yours. You melted.

Yeosang helped you out of your coat because there was no way you were going to release your daughter now, and busied himself hanging it up.

Seunghwa shoved Yunho’s legs onto the floor and pushed himself against a complaining Hongjoong to make space for you to sit. You did so, carefully positioning Micha against your chest. Immediately, Yunho’s face was next to hers and muttering greetings.

“Yeosang said you went to the spa,” Hongjoong pushed himself forward, resting on his knees, so he wouldn’t be completely squashed by the older man, “Did you enjoy yourself?”

“I did,” you sighed, “Yeo had been trying to convince me to go for a while and, he was right. I did need the adult time.”

Seonghwa tutted. “Don’t let him hear that, it’ll go straight to his head.”

“I don’t need to be told if I’m right, I know I am,” Yeosang was back in the room and, from behind you, ran a hand affectionately through your hair, brushing strands over your shoulder. “Are you hungry? There’s leftovers for you.”

“We brought chicken,” San supplied.

You squinted. “In spicy sauce?”

“Of course.”

“Then yes, thank you,” you agreed. Your eyes flickered to the digital clock on the banner of whatever tv show they had been watching, “I should probably feed Cha first.”

“I got it,” Mingi was up and skidding to the kitchen on sock clad feet.

Jongho stood up and followed after him. “You don’t know how to warm up the milk.”

“I can figure it out,” Mingi argued.

You called after them back, “Milk is in the freezer. Water bath please.”

Both voice called back, “Got it.”

You rolled your lips into a smile. You looked down at Micha, who was still watching Yunho with great intensity. You lowered your head to press a kiss to her crown. “Aren’t you lucky baby? Your appa and your uncles take such good care of you.”

You didn’t have to look up to see them all preening under the praise.

And they did. They do. It was hard to let go, to accept that others could do this job and keep Micha as safe as you could, but in that moment, you felt the tension leave just a little from your shoulders. You should have known, you thought. It was never going to just be you, or Yeosang. It would be all of them.

Their family, blood and otherwise. Their village.

——————————————————————————

a/n: please let me know what you think!

[redemptions]

Hey i have a request for you :)

Omegaverse poly!ateez meet their fated mates but they already have a child who happens to be a ATINY

omg omg I've been thinking on this one for a while!! thank you for the request! get ready for the fluff

wc: 2k

genre: fluff, omegaverse, a/b/o, omega!reader, alpha!ateez, soulmate au, fated mate au, mentions of seventeen, mingyu is your baby daddy, mingyu/seungkwan mentioned, first meeting of soulmates at send off

masterlist // requests: open

-------------------------------------------------------------

jiwon bounces on the tips of his toes, his hetmongi plush clutched tightly in his little hands. your baby boy is always excitable, an energetic pup who loves with his whole chest, and you can't help the fond smile that crosses your face. You smooth your hand over flyaway strands on his hair.

he turns his head to beam up at you. "will they really sign my hettie?"

"i'm sure they will pup," you say fondly.

you blame your sister for getting jiwon into ATEEZ as a group. you'd had to work later and when you came to pick him up, jiwon demanded you come in and watch his performance. he danced to lemon drop with shaky moves, missing the beat a couple of times but he looked so pleased with himself, especially when you scooped him up and called him your favourite dancer.

from that moment, you ended up here - at send off after a late concert. jiwon is too high on adrenaline to be tired, despite how much later it is than his bedtime. the tickets were expensive and maybe you shouldn't have spent so much on your child but you want to do everything you can for him. if what he wants is to look at his favourite idols for 5 seconds each, then you'll pay whatever it takes to let him have that.

"who do you want to come out first?" you murmur.

jiwon hums thoughtfully. "yunho-hyung," he declares excitedly, "I want to tell him he's a good dancer."

you barely resist cooing. "i'm sure he'd love that."

you had jiwon rather unconventional to the standards of some. you were a lone omega, no alpha or beta, to speak for beyond your family one. a friend had been your heat partner at the time and the pregnancy had been an accident. mingyu had insisted he would make it right, do the right thing by you, but you'd refused to let him claim you.

"you're not my alpha," you had reminded him, "and I'm not your omega."

his eyebrows had furrowed in discomfort. "but-"

"be a good dad," you'd told him, "that's all I want."

and he truly was. mingyu had met his omega, seungkwan, and then by extension is pack, not long after jiwon was born. honestly, you adored the both of them, dramatic queens that they were. you glance down at your phone to snap a photo of your son and send it to the 'parenting' group chat. there is an immediate explosion of messages that you don't get a chance to answer because further down the line, a curtain opens and the send off has begun.

the first thing you notice is the smell. apples. sweet apples. like apple pie. it was...really nice. you find yourself distracted by it, by how it seems to be getting stronger by the minute until it is right in front of you.

"seonghwa-hyung!" jiwon calls and then bows respectfully like you taught him when you greet your elders.

and you? you can't breathe.

up close, seonghwa is prettier than you could have imagined. his hair is pushed back by a cap and he's wearing the softer clothes - jumpers and sweatpants - from the final stage. his eyes, so beautifully dark, widen and his lips, previously stretched into a polite smile, part as he gives a shaky exhale.

"a-alpha," you stammer.

his eyes flash gold. "omega."

there's a moment, a pause where you try to calm the beating of your heart and the whining of your omega, before seonghwa tears his gaze away from you and lowers it. jiwon seems to smile even wider with the idol's eyes on him.

seonghwa smiles, strained in places but geninue. "and who is this?"

"jiwon!" he chirps, "I'm nearly five."

security tries to urge him on, to the other people that are surrounding and reaching out but seonghwa ignores them. he lowers himself into a crouch, as he's eye level with your pup. "did you like the show?"

jiwon bobs his head aggressively. "I loved it!" he declares, "I like your voice."

you should be focusing on thinking clearly, about the reality of what your omega is insisting on, but all you can think is how well he speaks to your son, how soft he is when he smiles; how he carefully takes hetmongi from his little hands and signs his name on the plushie's paw.

"does mama want anything signed?" he asks once he'd risen back to his full height.

you didn't but that didn't stop you from shoving your arm forward. surprise flickers in the alpha's eyes before an amused smile stretches across his lips. his long lithe fingers curl around your wrist so he can steady your limb as he signs. when he releases you, the place where he touches tingles in the best way.

"you'll stay until the end?" he asks, quiet, as if to keep it a secret from those around you.

you nod, wordless.

and the thing is, it keeps happening. each wolf appears before you and you feel your heart lurch in your chest.

hongjoong freezes in front of you and even as he moves further down the line, he keeps looking back as if to check you're really there. ("I never..." he trails off. security bend to whisper something in his ear and he swallows, nodding in understanding. "please stay just for a little while longer," he begs.)

wooyoung unexpectedly curses but when he speaks to jiwon, he does so with the softest of voices that it makes your heart melt. ("aigoo, five already?" he cooes, "you're a big boy already." "I am," jiwon says proudly, "daddy says I gotta look after mama because i'm the man of the house.")

yunho melts when jiwon tells him that he wants to be a dancer like him when he's older. ("really?" he breathes, and sticks his pinkie finger through the fence. "promise you'll be even better than me.")

mingi drips over his boots in front of you and tells jiwon that he'll get him a bbyongming plushie. ("do you hear that mama?" he bounces, "mingi-hyung is gonna give me a yongie!")

san asks to sign your arm, next to his hyung's name, and calls you beautiful. ("of course she's beautiful," jiwon says indigently, "she's my mama.")

yeosang flushes pink at the tips of his ears, keeps flashing shy smiles up at you, and looks absolutely delighted when jiwon tells him that hetmongi is his favourite. ("this is hettie," he introduces happily and you melt when the alpha murmurs a greeting to the stuffed toy version of himself).

jongho takes your phone for a photo, fingers brushing yours in the exchange, and asks if you can share it with him. ("for the memories," he says honestly and flashes you a smile that makes your knees buckle.)

you gather jiwon in your arms to not lose him as the crowd thins. it only takes a few minutes before a man wearing a team lanyard asks to see the signatures on your arm - "just to confirm its you," he says with a polite smile, "please, come to the curtain door. the boys are waiting for you."

"where are we going mama?" jiwon asks curiously, peering around them as you walk away from the exit.

you couldn't explain mates and attraction to your 5 year old, especially not while you were in the emotional throws of it all, so instead you say, "ateez-hyungs liked you so much, they want to meet us in an extra special way."

jiwon's eyes light up. "really?"

he practically vibrates in your arms as you are led through the back door. it doesn't exactly open up onto rooms or what you imagine backstage to be - there is an area that you imagined each member waited for their time to walk down and a false wall, erected towards the back to allow the boys some privacy and quiet. it is that room you are welcomed into.

conversation dies on tongues, descending the space into silence. mingi stumbles awkwardly to his feet, lips parted, eyes wide. san chokes on a gulp of water. you feel like you might cry or be sick all at the same time.

you'd been alone for so long, an omega without her pack. you almost thought it would never happen. of course, you love your family pack and you love your son, and mingyu's pack always looked after you both, but felt difference standing here.

because these are yours.

its hongjoong that steps forward to take charge. "omega."

you respond from deep in your soul. "alpha."

yunho laughs, breathless. "this doesn't seem real."

"it feels like a dream," jongho murmurs.

"I never thought our omega would be atiny," yeosang muses.

you shake your head. "ah, no, I'm not - I mean, you're all good, but um, the atiny is this pup here." you gesture to jiwon in your arms. in the enclosed space, he is shy, curling into your shoulder, little hands clutching at your top. his cheek is squished but his eyes watch the room, enraptured.

"ahh, a man of good taste," wooyoung teases. you feel jiwon smile against your skin. you press your cheek against his soft hair.

"can I ask..." hongjoong gestures awkwardly, not sure how to proceed.

you understood of course. "jiwon's daddy is around but we're not - he has his own omega."

"kwannie," jiwon supplies and then hides when eyes flicker to him.

"we're not," you roll your lips, "he's a good dad but we couldn't be - I was waiting for-"

"us," mingi fills in.

you swallow around the lump in your throat. "yeah."

later, yunho helps carry a sleeping jiwon to your car. they can't all come out with you, though they want to. you get scent marked until all you smell is sweet fruits and desserts, the scent of your alphas oh my god. wooyoung is brave enough to kiss your cheek and Jongho kisses the back of your hand sweetly.

yunho has been nuzzling jiwon since the boy crawled into his lap to fall asleep and refused to let him go. "it's strange," he admits, "I didn't expect our omega to already have a pup but he already feels like mine, you know?"

his cap is down low and his face is covered with a mask to help hide his identity for any passersby. he's so careful in how he lowers your baby into his car seat, gentle to not wake up him as he pulls the seat straps free. he tries to attach the buckle but after a few failed attempts, you step in to show him, and he does watch with avid interest.

"I guess we'll need to learn this," he says.

"you don't need to," you assure.

yunho smiles, eyes creasing at the edges. "we want to," he promises and if that doesn't make your heart full. "message us when you both home," he requests softly and you agree.

mingi had carefully taken your number and made a group chat called 'pack + baby'. "because now that we've found you," he said, "you aren't slipping away from us that easily."

you have a moment of bravery where you raise up on tiptoes to press a kiss to his mask covered lips. even through the fabric, you can feel the sharp inhale of breath and you can see the way his eyelids flutter, savouring the moment.

"I'll see you soon," you whisper.

"as soon as possible," yunho agrees.

he stands on the street, watching your car as you drive away. you last a good two minutes before you make a phone call.

"is everything okay?" mingyu worries. "you're calling late. seungcheol said he'd send a search party."

"jiwon is asleep in the back seat so you need to keep it down when I tell you this," you answer.

"tell me what?"

you find yourself smiling as you say the words, "ATEEZ are my alphas."

"ATEEZ are your what?"

---------------------------------------------------------------

🏷️ @quaxing-lour @yizhou-time @jpow345 @princelingperfect @aireagle92 @sourlimesoda @livonianmaia @wolfhallows4 @dachshunddame @glowingsoup @devilzliaison @stxrrywoo @minkieater @moooonadroses @arieltwvdtohamflash @koztion @sangis-puppy @sunnysidesins @itsmooniebaby @chandlxa @btsgangleader @satsuri3su @diearama @aethnie @sh1n3-4h4na @ja3hwa @hopelesslygroovyraven @everglow98 @nxur-nyx @weasleytwins-41 @katsukis1wife @whyiskpoptakingovermylife @hope122598 @Wolfhallows4 @Addi-3 @i-amtrash @Spenceatiny18 @huyasalamandra @christiinee @Victoriaaf @hannahdinse8 @okiedokiespookie @answer-the-sirens @iamagnesrrr @nanazuly @hope122598 @jiimtaee @becklynpro @joongsfantasy @salvaltor @Kandy108 @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @intowxnderland @Fertileleaf @soso59love-blog @ramadiiiisme @herpoetryprincess @bewitchedbitxh @heaven-s-hell @loverracha @liightlizard @elenas-kaleidoscope (join the taglist)

[redemptions]

hiiii just wanna say your ateez works have been my comfort reads for a while and I wanted to request a fluffy omegaverse for ot8, something like omega reader nesting in weird areas of their dorm because certain spots smell like the boys: like the kitchen is drenched in wooyoungs smell for example

hello nonie!!! that's such a nice thing to hear, i'm glad you enjoy the stories I write :)

thank u for the request. I love this idea and I hope you liked what I wrote!

wc: 1.7k

genre: poly ateez, ateez x fem!reader, omegaverse, alpha!ateez, omega!reader, a/b/o dynamics, a lot of scent talk, nesting, mentions of upcoming heat, sappy affection, pet names, ateez are suitably dramatic

masterlist // requests: open

--------------------------------------------

The first time, Hongjoong nearly kicked you. It's early morning and he hadn't got to his bed yet, music and beats still running through his head. he'd transferred from the studio at KQ to the one he had at home, and was prepared to settle in for what would end up being 48 hours without sleep.

his mission to get a coffee - the only thing sustaining him right now - was cut short by the way his house slippers caught on your blanket.

Hongjoong squinted down at it, the soft strands of the fluff tickling the sides of his bare feet. he recognised it instantly. of course he did. it was one of your favourites, the throw always curled around your body when you got too cold. it took a second in his chaotic and half asleep haze to identify the lump wasn't just a blanket but you as well.

strands of your hair stuck out the top of the blanket cocoon you had made, head resting back against the bottom of the kitchen counter. despite the strangeness of the situation, Hongjoong couldn't help the immediate noting of how pretty his omega was when she slept. Soft, relaxed, bottom lip pushed out into a pout that he wanted to kiss away.

he found himself smiling fondly as he crouched down, hands moving to brush loose strands of hair from your cheeks. He whispered your name and tapped your cheek.

you sniffed, shifted and angled your head into his hand, seeking the touch of your alpha even in your slumber. Hongjoong's heart did a leap - if it were possible to fall in love with you all over again, he might have just done it.

he tried again, voice a little louder, touch a little firmer, until your eyelids began to flutter.

"...joongie?" you asked, voice heavy with sleep and confusion.

"hello baby girl," he murmured.

you looked at him through heavy eyes and tried to blink away the tiredness. "I didn't think you'd be back tonight..."

fuck, you sounded so surprised when you said it. not accusing, not upset, just pleased. his alpha whined a little, unhappy that he'd left his omega alone for so long. "thought the change of scenery would help," he admitted and ran his scent mark over your cheek, "what are you doing on the floor baby?"

you untangled your arms to hold his hand there, fingers warm and claiming as you dipped your head to nuzzle at his pulse point. you yawned. "smells like woo here," you admitted, shy but honest.

Hongjoong immediately wanted to lower himself and beg for forgiveness. it was comeback season and it was busy. songs that were supposed to be finished had been sent back with a list of changes. more and more photoshoots and filming schedules were put into their calendars. they'd signed on to do a showcase and that meant extra practice. the days seem to stretch on and on with no end in sight.

they'd apologised, warned you in advance. You'd smiled and promised you understood - "just look after yourself, okay?"

and then in the middle of all that, was you seeking the scent of your pack because you missed them so terribly. god, what a shitty fucking alpha he was.

"woo's bed smells like him too," Hongjoong reminded, "and softer."

you shook your head. "its not the same without him there," you confessed, "none of your rooms are."

his alpha whimpered. Hongjoong might have let it slip out.

"come to bed with me," he said as he urged you to your feet. you followed obediently, let him gather you close and tug your blanket around your shoulders.

"don't you have work?" you asked.

he did but there was no way it was going to get done tonight. not with your words in his head, your scent fresh around him and that hopeful light in your eye. "I was just getting water before I sleep," he lied, "so come with me."

you didn't argue with him, let him lead you across the house - half empty with their pack mates on other sides of the country for work - and into his room. the covers were still messy from the last time he'd slept there and you slid into them as if they were your own.

they were, he supposed, just like he was.

You slept with your face pressed against his scent gland, against the mating mark you'd put there. Hongjoong held you tight, anything to make up for lost time.

-

hongjoong: everyone better get their asses home as quick as possible

hongjoong: our girl needs us

-

jongho had never wanted to get home faster in his life. the message from hongjoong sat in the group chat - the one specifically reserved for work, not pack related things - and any follow up message went unanswered. the flight from jeju to Seoul was only an hour and yet it felt like a lifetime, his alpha pacing and tugging at his control.

he barely held back asking his manager to break the speed limit.

you had been theirs for nearly three years and yet he still felt like it was all so fresh when he thought of you. it was like he was still fumbling, trying to find his place with you and desperately afraid of fucking it up.

jongho looked at the group chat again. estimated arrival times and demands for answers still sat without response. he'd be the first one to arrive, the others on later flights because of their schedules.

of course, his mind jumped to the worst - to hurt and pain and death - and he felt sick. but that couldn't be, right? they were all busy but something like that - Hongjoong would have called. his manager wouldn't be humming songs playing on the radio under his breath. the world wouldn't continue turning.

so he tried to breathe through the initial panic, told himself that he was going to curse the pack alpha out for making him nauseous with worry, and assure himself that you were all in one piece.

he barely said goodbye to his manager, stumbling out of the car with his overnight bag slung over his shoulder, and took the steps up two at a time.

and there you were, on the corner of the sofa. your legs were tucked underneath you, a familiar blanket over your feet and clothes that were definitely Mingi's judging by the size on your body. your messy from sleep and your eyebrows were narrowed in concentration as you read something on your phone.

jongho's chest hurt as it always did at the sight of you.

your face lit up as soon as you saw him. "jjong!"

he dropped to his knees in front of you. his hands slid around, desperately seeking for signs of pain or injury, while his eyes jumped over your face. perfect, unblemished and mildly amused by his wandering limbs. he sniffed but couldn't detect any pain - only your sweet honey mixed with the tinges of delight that he was back in front of you.

your own fingers slid up the plains of his chest, hooking in the chain that hung from his neck. "I thought you weren't going to be back until tonight?"

"hongjoong-hyung said you needed us," jongho said softly, "so I came."

he watched the happy surprise dance across your face before it melted into embarrassment. "I didn't," you murmured, shook your head and ducked it low to hide the flush rising on your cheeks. "it could have waited."

jongho let his fingers smooth the creased the fabric at your waist. "nothing waits with you," he said, patient, honest, "what do you need?"

you ducked your head, the top bumping against the centre of his chest. his alpha rumbled at the contact and he dropped his head to press a kiss to the back of your head instinctively.

"I missed you," you whispered, "nothing smells like you anymore and I'm nesting so I was looking your scent and - did you know that the gym still smells like you and sannie?"

understanding hit him then. the tension he still held in his shoulders let him on the next exhale.

"where's hongjoong?" jongho asked patiently.

you smiled shyly. "getting supplies before pre-heat hits properly," you said.

jongho hummed in understanding. "do you need help making your nest?" he asked, "somewhere not on the gym floor."

the tips of your ears went pink. "help me?"

he kissed the curve of your lips. "yeah gorgeous, whatever you need."

your eyes dancing over his shoulders and jongho didn't even need you to ask. he was already shrugging his coat off his shoulders and tugging the jumper off his body. the way you hugged it close, eyes dilating and the way the tension left your shoulders was answer enough.

"Wait," you hesitated, "you said us? Does that mean the others too?"

you looked so adorably excited.

"will be with you in an hour," he promised.

you scrambled onto your feet. "okay, nest. I gotta get it ready. Ready for you."

it was all omega talk, a blabber about a safe place for your alphas to enter. the usual signs that you were about to start your heat. You never spoke that like that normally, never referred to any of them as your alphas in. normal conversation. still, it made jongho's alpha whine in delight and he watched, fond, utterly in love.

their managers would have a field day about the change of schedules, he was sure, and professionally, jongho knew it would cause more trouble later on. right now though, he didn't care. not with his omega reaching for him, his scent mixing with yours and your fingers interlocked with his.

he pressed a kiss to the back of your hand and nudged his nose along the insight of your wrist. "tell me what you need me to do baby," he murmured, "I got you."

-

jongho: no one is hurt or dying, beautiful is nesting

san: he couldn't have said that???

wooyoung: he made sangie cry

yeosang: you cried too!

seonghwa: why didn't he answer?

jongho: Hongjoong let his phone battery die

mingi: it is acceptable to cuss out our pack alpha?

yunho: he's gonna pay for my medical bills from this HEART ATTACK HE GAVE ME

hongjoong: I was half asleep!

hongjoong: it wasn't supposed to be so dramatic

yeosang: have you forgotten who your pack mates are?

jongho: [1 photo attachment]

jongho: our omega says hurry up

mingi: !!!!!!!

yunho: running

wooyoung: i might cry again

----------------------------------------

🏷️ @quaxing-lour @yizhou-time @jpow345 @princelingperfect @aireagle92 @sourlimesoda @livonianmaia @wolfhallows4 @dachshunddame @glowingsoup @devilzliaison @stxrrywoo @minkieater @moooonandroses @arieltwvdtohamflash @koztion @sangis-puppy @sunnysidesins @itsmooniebaby @chandlxa @btsgangleader @satsuri3su @diearama @aethnie @sh1n3-4h4na @ja3hwa @hopelesslygroovyraven @everglow98 @hypnoticviolet @weasleytwins-41 @katsukis1wife @whyiskpoptakingovermylife @hope122598 @Wolfhallows4 @Addi-3 @i-amtrash @Spenceatiny18 @huyasalamandra @christiinee @Victoriaaf @hannahdinse8 @okiedokiespookie @answer-the-sirens @iamagnesrrr @nanazuly @hope122598 @jiimtaee @becklynpro @joongsfantasy @salvaltor @Kandy108 @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @intowxnderland @Fertileleaf @soso59love-blog @ramadiiiisme @herpoetryprincess @bewitchedbitxh @heaven-s-hell @purelyhated @loverracha @liightlizard @elenas-kaleidoscope @m8teez @firestrike04 @berryguks @puppyminnnie @enthusiasticmigraine @parkairis18 @1000aki @veronica123 @soulphoenix1618 @s0ngm1ng1 @kimsaerom @s1ar4s @jbear00 @tghock @madifreakinggriffinblake (join the taglist)

[velvetmatz]

afterdark ─c.sn★⸝⸝🍓‧₊ (m)

p*rnstar!san x camgirl!reader

⟢ a/n: the long awaited... | this is NOT in any way, shape, or form meant to depict who / how any of ateez are irl. please do not take this fic as fact on their personalities, please and thank you.

⟢ summary: everyone knows choi san. the choi san. and the pornstar wonder boy just invited you to do a collab with him

⟢ word count: 35.7K

⟢ warnings: masturbation (f), oral (m,f), p->v, unprotected sex (don't do that), squirting, edging, dirty talk, san makes a Crazy first impression, cowgirl/riding, bondage (f, not reader), slight yeosang x reader (mentioned), porn industry, blowjob, fingering, basically just everything you’d find in a porn

posted: 06.27.26

⟢ [OPEN] taglist: @christinerose380 @violatedvibrators @tiramingisu @cocostar1117 @lilliesofthevalley8 @princesskatriinnaaa @starhwasx @mythicalthing @inlovewithhongjoongno1 @fixxedonmingi @deokityu @lxvmiki @rhea-sylvea @planetherk @kkitomy @sweatyracoon @ebly-bembly @fancypeacepersona @angstylittleb1tch @liightlizard @angelnameddeveraux @shesgirlfriendmaterial99 @onlyforwoosan @maliabobea15 @lovemollywho @yu5qii @minyunsan-kitten @honghwalvr @toothjuiceee @flowering-weeds @bearxgyeomie

· · ─────── ·☆· ─────── · ·

You love your life. 

You love that you can wake up whenever you want, and that you have no set schedule to live by. The only deadlines you have to worry about are the ones you make for yourself. You love your beautiful apartment that you didn’t need anyone else’s help to get, and that it is so close to everything in the city. You love not worrying about money anymore. You get to live however you deem fit, taking life one day at a time. Everything in your life is by your own design. Honestly? It’s a dream. 

And it’s easy money, giving men a fantasy for the night. 

That’s what you sell, the idea of you. In everyday life, you don’t pout nearly as much as you do on camera, nor do you talk as sweetly to strangers. Some of them, though, aren’t strangers to you anymore. You recognize their usernames and their donations, especially the ones who have been fans of yours since you started, and the ones who pay for your highest tiered subscription. Twenty-five dollars a month just to jerk off to your exclusive content. Ah, men. 

Your fanbase has grown and grown, skyrocketing somewhat recently when you convinced Yeosang, your hot guy friend, to join you in one of your videos. He’d worn a face mask to protect his identity, but it had been so obvious that he’s attractive even with it on. The black tank top left little to the imagination as your audience watched the muscles in his arms flex as his strong hands fingered you over and over again while he talked you through each orgasm. It was a rather simple video, with no actual sex. Regardless, that became one of your most viewed videos even though it was an exclusive, and the video that ended up paying for this apartment. Men and women alike scrambled to type in their credit card information to see it, boosting not only your ego, but your bank account as well. You gave Yeosang a decent sized chunk of your earnings, seeing as he was in the video too.  

His whole face had turned red when you showed him the number of views, hiding behind his hands for good measure. He’s always been shy, it was a damn miracle you even got him to do it in the first place. 

Since then, you’ve been living quite comfortably. Yeosang, too. Despite your efforts to convince him to create his own account for people to subscribe to, he’s maintained his ‘innocence’. However, recently he’s been asking you more and more about the details and dynamics of running an account like yours. You’re almost afraid to jinx it, like if you ask him outright if he’s thinking about it, he’ll forget the whole thing and never do it. Who are you to potentially accidentally deny the general paying population of your hot friend? 

He may become even more popular than me, you think to yourself, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. 

You glance at your laptop, its camera trained at a specific angle towards your empty bed, and you peek at how many people are waiting for your livestream to start. Friday nights are always good to pull in larger crowds, and tonight is no different. 

Nine hundred, and climbing. 

Whoa.

You let out a low whistle at the number, the highest you’ve ever seen it just for the amount of people waiting. You’re not even due to start for another ten minutes. The number shifts around a couple times, losing some, and gaining more every minute. For the first time in a while, you start to feel a little self-conscious. This newfound fame is still just that: new. Even though you can’t see the audience you’ve gathered, you still feel that there are nine hundred pairs of eyes on you in your bedroom. There’s a nervous flutter in your chest that you can’t seem to shake off in the dwindling minutes before your stream begins. 

With only two minutes left, you flit around your room, double checking how you look in your mirror, fixing your hair and makeup, and adjusting one of the straps to the lingerie you picked out for the evening. You sit prettily on the bed, taking a few moments before you start to center yourself, taking deep breaths and focusing on getting your head clear for tonight’s performance. 

A ‘performance’ is basically all it is.   

Your fingers hover over the trackpad of your laptop, counting down the seconds until there are none left, and you click “Go Live”. 

As usual, you allow about ten seconds to go by, waiting for more to join once they get the notification that the stream has started. You read the sudden influx of chat, smiling when you see familiar usernames and knowing that rent will be covered for the next couple of months, just by their presence here. If you wanted something, all you had to do was ask for it. Someone in the chat will gladly donate however much you need – and then some – just for the chance to hear you read their username and thank them in your sweet voice. 

So easy.  

You saturate your greeting with honey, looking up into the laptop camera, eyes round and innocent. 

“Hi, everyone,” you sing, giggling for all of the people vying for your attention. Each comment is sent with the hope that you’ll read it out. Some send tips already, small amounts mostly in the single digits, but there are a couple of doubles sent your way already. The tip counter in the upper corner of the screen increases steadily with each donation as they come. Compliments, questions, requests, and general niceties move up the screen in a constant staccato, making room for the next. 

You lean back on your hands, pretending that you don’t know what you’re doing with this angle. The camera is angled down, providing an almost perfect POV shot for the audience. The fantasy begins immediately. You uncross your legs, feigning shyness. 

“My day was okay, thank you,” you purr, knowing you just made someone nearly cream their pants by answering their question. “But… I’ve just been so lonely.” 

You pout, right on cue to accompany your words. Instantly, the comment section floods with volunteers to cure you of your loneliness. Each one promises they can fix it, that they’ll be there for you, that they’ll never leave. It’s flattering, but none of them really mean it. Maybe they think they do, but again none of them really know you. You doubt most of them want to get to the very root of you and figure you out. No, most if not all just want to get into your pants to say that they have. Bragging rights. 

[user75846] will yeo be joining you?

You read the comment aloud, shaking your head in quiet defeat. “No, it’s just me tonight.” 

Some comments beg for his return, others are happy that it’s just you – the jealous types – and the rest are simply impatient to see your body. Your hand trails across the hem of your flimsy, sheer tank top you chose to wear for the evening. It leaves little to the imagination. The quiet pinging of more money being donated motivates you further. You sigh, looking up into the camera again. 

“I’ve been so sad and lonely all day… you guys will help me, right?” 

You pull your shirt down just a little more, showcasing your cleavage while keeping your face as innocent as possible. The comments spike again, but you don’t pay attention to them anymore. Your hand travels farther up to your mouth, fingers threatening to slip between your glossy lips. Twelve hundred people watch and wait. You hum, parting your lips slightly but not quite giving them the visual they want. Not yet. There’s no rush – not for you, at least. But one comment catches your eye because of its impatience.   

[mntn3000]: start.

Very blunt. You don’t recognize the username as one of your regulars or subscribers. Whoever this is must be new. You’ve run and maintained a rather strict program with your subscribers when it comes to what they say in the live chat – politeness being one of the main rules. The lack of a ‘please’ to sweeten the demand nearly twists your face into something less angelic. Maybe whoever this user is is already close, unable to finish his sentence before he finishes himself. You bet once you take your shirt off he’ll blow his load and leave. It happens. For now, you’ll have fun with him. Teach this newcomer some manners. 

You dip your fingers in, tongue peeking out to greet them into your mouth. The amount of comments slows just a little, silently telling you that some of your viewers are beginning to work themselves up along with you. 

“Oh dear… ‘mntn3000’ just said ‘start’. No ‘please’? Will someone let him know how this works?” You keep your voice sugary, making sure everyone knows you aren’t hurt or being stuck-up, but that you’re rather amused at the comment. 

Almost immediately, upon request, you see one of your regulars tag the newcomer in a message explaining the chat rules. 

“Thank you, Woo,” you hum, lifting your shirt up even more, just for him, to show your gratitude. Your hand lingers near your breast, a small shudder running through your body as you graze your nipple. 

‘Woo’, your nickname for him from his username, has become somewhat of an anonymous friend to you. He’s subscribed to your highest level tier and the VIP extras that you offer, including private shows and a group chat on Discord. He’s always the first to step in if someone says something out of line or disrespectful in any way. Your own personal guard dog. 

Whoever he is, ‘mntn3000’ doesn’t say anything to Woo’s message. 

Fourteen hundred people now. 

You hum again, resisting the urge to squeeze your thighs together. You love the attention. And after doing a rough estimate in your head how much money you’ll make tonight, it just makes you want to put on an even better show. 

“If you want something…” you purr, taking your shirt off completely. The comments erupt. “Ask nicely~” you tease, giggling to yourself.

A donation pops up immediately, the sum of which nearly makes you gape.   

[mntn3000] has donated $500 

Well… that’s certainly nice. 

[mntn3000]: start, kitten

That’ll do it. 

You’re quick to control your reaction to the generous donation. However, now you can’t help but feel like you’re performing under pressure. Some of your other patrons comment on it, but you’re on autopilot now. 

One more deep breath in and your tight little shorts soon join your shirt on the floor. 

You exhale audibly, turning the breath into a quiet moan as your hand continues to explore your own body. This time, you don’t tease when your fingers come back up to your mouth, accepting them immediately. Your free hand finds its way to your neglected chest, kneading the warm skin. It’s easy to pretend that the touch belongs to someone else’s manipulation. 

It’s more than just a little confusing for you to immediately imagine it’s Yeosang, if not friendship-wise. The two of you have mutually agreed that you’re platonic. The collaboration was just… a friend helping a friend. Moreso than the views and money you earned from it, you’re thankful that there is no awkwardness between you two in the aftermath of it. When you had switched the camera off, he had even joked about graduating to another level of friendship, or something like that. You can’t remember exactly right now, you’re a bit preoccupied. 

You pry your eyes open to read the chat, wanting to know if they’re enjoying the view so far. 

[user92834]: i keep expecting yeo to show up ㅠㅠ  i miss him

You whine, only able to nod once or twice. “I miss Yeo, too.” 

Now you’re playing with fire. Multiple people in the chat remind you of their personal favorite parts of that video, giving you a much needed visual to get yourself off. Is it wrong? To use memories of your best friend ‘platonically’ overstimulating you for the better part of an hour? Maybe. You think you just need to get laid soon. Admittedly, it’s been rather long since you have been. Longer than most of your viewers will ever believe.  

“I wish someone was here to help me,” you blink slowly into the camera, pouting again. 

Your artificial patheticness is like a siren call to these men. It seems that every single one of your viewers suddenly comes alive, flooding the chat and your donations box all at once, each claiming that they should be the one to help you next time. That they have what it takes. 

Except one. 

You haven’t seen that ‘mntn3000’ guy’s username pop up since he sent the generous donation earlier. You wonder if he’s still watching. Maybe he’s embarrassed from earlier. 

Whatever. He’s more likely just another background viewer. You probably won’t hear from him again. 

Pushing the thought away, you start to finally trail your hand down your stomach to lightly circle your clit. Your hooded eyes flicker up to the screen, making sure everything’s in view. Satisfied with what you see, you resume touching yourself, continuing to loudly suck on your fingers for good measure. 

[user82392] has donated $5

[user01743] has donated $20

[puppyu.u] has donated $50

[mars9843] has donated $50 

[puppyu.u] has donated $100

You can’t help but smile, watching the silent competition between your viewers. Every time someone ups the amount they’re willing to drop on you, there’s dozens more who are willing to match it. You feel like you’re at auction. Who will win in the end? Usually, it’s one of your regulars, the ones with access to the private Discord, who come out on top. You’re betting on ‘puppyu.u’ tonight. He seems like he has something to prove. 

No one’s quite willing to match ‘mntn3000’’s five hundred dollar starting offer just yet. 

You get the feeling that everyone who regularly competes here silently agrees to just… ignore it. Everyone here spoils you, of course. But dropping five hundred dollars straight out the gate is a blatant power move that seems intent to undermine most of the others in here in one fell swoop. 

But he’s quiet now. Maybe he spent all he had in one go. It happens sometimes. Rarely, but sometimes. 

You’re not sure why you’re so hung up on this random user. You’re not used to being caught off guard like this. Closing your eyes so no one can see you roll them, you decide to not think about him anymore. 

And you have just the thing for it. 

While they spend money to achieve imagined dominance over the others in the chat, you reach just offscreen to grab your favorite dildo. It’s a fan-favorite as well. You scoot a little farther back on the bed, finally taking your fingers out of your mouth and replacing it with the head of the dildo. You sigh around it, like you’re content, grateful to have something in your mouth again. In reality, this is just so that it goes inside of you easier.   

This time, you don’t make them wait. 

The blunt head of the toy slips inside easily, and you fight to keep your head up so everyone can see your reaction to it. Halfway in, you give up. Head back, a visible shudder runs through your body that has the donation notifications ringing like crazy. Around this point in your little show, you’ll pay less and less attention to the chat, only focusing on the pleasure you’re creating for yourself. 

But this time, something’s off. 

No matter what you do, you can’t seem to find that specific angle that makes you cum. Not even playing with your clit seems to be any help. You try to relax, to see if maybe you’re too tense to feel anything, but it’s quite hard to relax when you’re this frustrated already. You’re not about to let the audience know that, but it’s discouraging. You don’t like to lie, but again, it’s all part of a performance. A fake, tailored show to sell a fantasy version of you. The one who always comes for whoever is watching, the one who is just so insatiable for each individual person watching.  

At one point, you obtain false hope. You hit an angle that nearly does it for you, getting you closer than you were before to that sweet edge. It’s so close you can almost taste it, quickening your pulse and electrifying every vein in your body. There’s an ache in your wrist that is starting to become strained and uncomfortable, and your eyebrows furrow together to try and maybe will an orgasm into existence. And yet the payoff evades you completely.  

You make a sharp, high-pitched noise out of frustration, which hopefully comes across as ecstacy instead. You’re not even enjoying it anymore, and your hand begins to slow down the pumps of the dildo as your fake moans increase again. There’s a trick you know to make your legs look like they’re realistically shaking from an orgasm – learned by ego-boosting one too many failed relationships and one night stands in the past – and you use it now. 

Ugh. 

The toy slips out of you, and you blearily toss it next to you on the bed. You let the audience watch the slowing rise and fall of your chest as your breaths even out. 

What the fuck was that? You think to yourself, tilting your head back to hide your look of confusion. You’re kind of nervous to look at what people are saying in the chat, worried that they somehow caught onto the fact that you faked it. Without any proof, you conjure up images of cancellation, accusations, name-calling, every possible and yet unrealistic bad thing that could potentially happen. 

Steeling yourself as best you can, you straighten and take a look at the chat. 

All worries melt away at once as soon as you notice the heart emojis that flood the comment section. You’re not sure when this started, nor do you know who began the trend, but it has turned into something similar to applause at the end of a stream. A cute signal that they enjoyed the show. You smile at the screen, even laughing a little from relief. Time and time again, you’re proven to be loved no matter what. 

There are a few more donations, although they’ve slowed down now that you’re done. You push your hair back, taking the time to slowly breathe in and out as you read the comments. Most of them tell you how hard you made them bust, which earns you a few more dollars. Still, there’s one username you’re stuck on that you’re not seeing. Not yet. You hope you’re not being obvious, waiting for it to reappear. Maybe with some manners and patience this time. Your eyes stay locked on the corner of the screen.

It’s after you blow a puff of air up towards your hair to move it out of your face that he reappears. Maybe your impatience was received loud and clear to him. 

He only sends one word. Four letters. 

[mntn3000]: cute 

[mntn3000] has donated $1000

[mntn3000] has left the stream

Huh. Your spinning head almost registers that. A good thing about streaming is that you’re not exactly on a time limit. You can take as much time as you need to to calm down and regroup before addressing your audience again. Most will leave during this time, and that’s alright too. Your devoted viewers will stay, still seeking out your attention, praise, and appreciation. You always thank them for watching and of course, donating. 

“There’s thousands of others you could have spent your time with tonight, so thank you for choosing me. I hope I made it worth it.” 

In the middle of catching your breath, you manage a small grin into the camera. With a whispered, ‘goodnight’, and a kiss blown straight to your audience, you end the live and flop backwards on your bed. Another job well done. Another year of rent earned. 

You force yourself to move after five minutes, showering, changing into new, comfier clothes and taking your makeup off in the bathroom until it’s just you in the mirror, and not the character. It’s not until you’re brushing your teeth that you realize how tired you are from that live, nearly drifting off with the toothbrush still in your mouth. Head about to hit the wall, you jerk back to stand upright and finish up quickly. You can practically hear your bed calling your name.   

A text from Yeosang lights up your phone, halfway buried underneath a pillow. You pull it out and stand by your bed to read it. 

[yeoyeo🌻]: another successful day at the office?

You can’t help but grin, burying yourself under the covers and texting him back quickly. 

[y/n🌸]: another small fortune 🥱

[yeoyeo🌻]: still wanna hang out tomorrow?

[yeoyeo🌻]: or is the princess too tired 

[y/n🌸]: stfu 😂

[y/n🌸]: yes pls i miss you :( 

[yeoyeo🌻]: fine fine 

[yeoyeo🌻]: i’ll be over at noon 

[yeoyeo🌻]: you better be awake -.- 

[y/n🌸]: goodnight pretty boy!

[yeoyeo🌻]: 🖕🏻

[yeoyeo🌻]: goodnight 

Exiting the messages app, you reach over to the nightstand and grab your laptop from its perch, keen on transferring your earnings into your bank account as soon as possible. Luckily, the site you use makes it rather easy, just a click of a button, but this time around, you take a second to look at the number in the corner. 

$14,601. 

You whistle lowly at the sight of it. Nearly fifteen thousand dollars for thirty minutes of ‘work’. If you spend and save wisely, you’ll never have to set foot in an office for as long as you live. 

Laptop set aside for the time being, you make a mental note to try and fit in some pilates tomorrow morning before Yeosang comes over. There are certain things you try to do to maintain your beauty and health, especially if the rewards look like this number. The sore muscles, cutting off sugar, and time spent trying to match your wing eyeliner are worth it. Almost… you do miss sugar quite a bit and are prone to cheat if tempted.  

You quickly do the math in the calculator app to see how exponentially your bank account is about to grow once the transfer is complete. The total makes you smile ear to ear. Already, you’re thinking of more ideas, ways to keep everyone interested… but also… maybe a vacation. A first class flight to anywhere in the world seems more than desirable. Maybe tomorrow you’ll ask Yeosang if he’d like to come too. The thought excites you, making you want to stay up and look at potential destinations. 

Closing out of the calculator and banking apps, you’re just about to go on TikTok to look through your ‘dream vacay’ folder, when a notification directs your eyes upward. It’s from your email, but it's no promotional message from one of the many stores you shop at, nor is it spam. 

The sender is simply ‘H.J Kim’, accompanied by three words in the subject line: ‘Exclusive Collaboration Offer’. 

That certainly piques your interest, although it could just be a scam. Since you don’t have an agent, you’ve learned the hard way how to filter out those who just wish to take your hard-earned – well… earned – money away from you. When you were just starting out, you had to change numerous passwords more than once. You’re on a first-name-basis with your bank. Usually, you ignore emails like this, but something draws you to it. In what you can see of the preview, the sender doesn’t use more words than he has to, and the word choice seems rather official. Not as scammy as you’re used to. 

Hesitant, but intrigued at what this offer could possibly entail, you click on it to see what the rest of the email says.

__________________________

Dear Miss Y/N, 

I hope you are doing well. My name is Kim Hongjoong and I am a Talent Agent with Afterdark Productions, representing Choi San. We have been admiring your work for a while now, and would love to extend an offer for a collaboration between the two of you. 

If accepted, I will be more than happy to disclose more information regarding the details of the shoot as well as beginning the process of arranging transportation and accommodation. Please feel free to reach out with any questions or concerns, and I will respond as quickly as I can. 

Thank you for your time and consideration. I look forward to the possibility of working together. 

Sincerely, 

Kim Hongjoong 

Talent Agent, Afterdark Productions

[email protected]  

__________________________

You sit up, suddenly needing more air. 

Choi San. 

Just his name makes your thighs clench together under the plush comforter.

You make a noise somewhere between an exhalation and a laugh of disbelief. You reread it a couple more times, making sure you’re reading it correctly. There’s simply no way someone like Choi San knows you exist, and if he does, then how? Sure, you’re gaining popularity on cam platforms, but you didn’t think the industry on the other side of the coin would take notice. Maybe you’ve just been naive. It’s essentially the same thing but without a script or team involved. You do everything yourself — the lights, the camera, the action. The idea of even attempting what ‘Afterdark’ is known for is quite daunting. The thought of potentially meeting San even more so. 

Everyone knows Choi San. 

Somewhat of a respected micro-celebrity, he is currently revolutionizing the stigma around adult videos and being an adult actor. Breaking stereotypes, barriers, and backs. Impressive. It also helps that he has adonis-like features and a smile that can universally melt hearts. Very helpful, indeed. 

It’s still not fully clicking that you’ve been offered a chance to work with him. Not yet. Most likely, it’ll hit you in the morning when you check your phone for the millionth time, making sure you didn’t just dream this all up in a post-orgasmic haze. Each time you reread it, the words stay the same. The name jumps out at you. 

“Fuckin’ hell…” you whisper, pressing your palm to your mouth, reading the email over just one more time. That’s what you tell yourself anyway. 

A collaboration… you assume that means on his turf. On his side of the industry, anyway. Your mouth dries. Are you even up for this? 

A visual learner all your life, you find yourself opening a private browser and looking up a porn site you know has posted a couple of San’s videos. For research. Literally. Your thought process is to refresh your memory, imagine yourself in the actress’ place and discern whether or not you think you can handle what this offer entails. You pick the very first result after you enter his name in the search box, and settle back against your pillows, nervously biting your nails as the video begins. 

It starts off like many others of its kind, a flashy montage of what’s to come – pun unfortunately intended – to entice viewers to keep watching. You skip ahead, like many do, not caring for whatever ‘plot’ has been thrown together to justify why these two hot people are sleeping together this time. Although, from the clips you do see as the video jumps ahead, inching closer to the real action, you have to admit he’s a decent actor. You stop skipping through it towards the end of their conversation, landing at the proposition and steadily rising scripted passion. 

San steps closer to the actress, really getting into her space, and holding eye contact the whole time. The type that would make any girl melt. It’s not fiery or intimidating, no, it’s something much worse. 

Desire. 

He mumbles something under his breath that you don’t catch, too focused on how his hands wrap around her waist, pulling her in closer. What startles you is how… almost vulnerable he looks. Attentive. His head tilted down slightly, looking at her through his eyelashes, enchanting her so effortlessly as his hands gently wander. You cross an arm over your chest, eyes still fixated on the phone screen. You’re getting affected this much just watching him look at her like that? How the hell will you possibly be able to handle it in real life? The short answer is: you probably won’t. 

Because the next time you skip, impatience gnawing at you to just see and know what he does, you’re thrown right into the fray. 

The camera is almost cinematic, capturing precise angles where everything can be seen, the lighting low and sensual. They’re on a large bed, and San has taken the time to place one of the pillows under her head as well as her hips. A blindfold covers the actress’ eyes, but you can tell right away she’s been steadily crying through the fabric. Her hands tighten in his hair, his mouth latches onto one of her breasts, and his hand between her legs where quiet, constant, wet sounds are being drawn from. Still, he looks earnest. Genuine. Like he cares about her pleasure, and wants to make sure she’s getting just as much out of this experience as he will. At this point, you’re sure the script is thrown out the window, because the way he talks to her, so soft and sincere, praising her closer and closer to the edge, is something that no scriptwriter could come up with. No, this was pure San. 

When she’s close, she tells him immediately and he changes nothing. He whispers the same praises, keeps his hand at the same pace and angle, reaching deep and curling up over and over, coaxing her body to release. The automated subtitles are no help, so you turn the volume up just a bit more, so you can hear him clearly. He must’ve been edging her because she starts begging him, trying to not pull his hair out at the roots. He simply covers her mouth with a free hand and leans over her, giving her permission to let go for him. 

She shudders violently, thighs pressing into the sides of his body to prevent him from moving. He's not going anywhere, though. That infamous dimpled smile appears as he watches her come undone beneath him. 

Your thighs clench. That’d be you. 

His voice drifts languidly from your laptop speakers, melting your brain even further. “Yes, baby, that’s it. There you go… such a good girl.” 

A girlish squeal gets stuck in your throat and you press your lips together to ensure you don’t let it out. You haven’t even said yes yet. There could be conditions you don’t agree with, payment arguments. He could be an asshole for all you know. Or this could all be a very elaborate and convincing scam. 

Still, just in case it is real, and for the sake of ‘research’, you keep watching. 

He kisses her chest, slowly making his way up her throat, her jaw, until he reaches her lips. He takes his sweet time, like he knows no one would dare look away. She sighs into his mouth, quiet whimpers leaving her every so often while he gently rubs her clit, just enough to keep her stimulated as she gets used to the feeling of being empty once again. You wonder what it’s like to kiss him. Your hands itch to reach for your phone and text Yeosang to tell him everything, however, you’re rather busy holding them still at the moment.  

You appreciate how he doesn’t move onto the next thing immediately. Too many times have you seen other actors in his industry not giving their partner a bit of a breather after such an intense orgasm. Granted, some may like that, the overwhelming and constant stimulation, but the way San allows her to take her time, silently encourages her to follow the deeper rhythm of his breathing, and how he holds her hand and places slow, soft kisses all over her body, it all adds up to make you crave a slower pace. An intimate interaction like this. 

San checks in with her quietly, and with a nod from her and another peck on the lips, he’s positioning himself between her legs. Stars in her eyes, she reaches down and strokes his length, whimpering softly. He gently brushes her hair back, admiring the look of nervous anticipation on her face. When he finally pushes inside, the two of them moan at the same time. Buried the way in, he smiles down at her before kissing her deeply. All dimples. A broken moan of his name tumbles from her lips, and you’re almost sure she didn’t realize she even said anything. She’s staring up at him like he’s a deity. Like he’s come down from heaven just for her. And she’s not acting. 

One thing you know for sure: you’d be stupid to decline the offer. 

You consider your mind made up. 

Reluctantly exiting the video, saving it for later, you reopen your email app. Part of you wonders whether or not two in the morning is an appropriate time to email someone, but another part of you simply doesn’t care. It’ll be in Mr. Kim Hongjoong’s inbox first thing when he wakes up tomorrow. Your reply is enthusiastic yet professional, expressing appreciation for the offer in the first place. You thank him and San for taking notice of you and offer praise of his work as well. Wrapping up with the same politeness the original sender used, you sign off with your name. Your fingers hover over the keyboard for a minute before adding a kiss emoji to the side of your name. Before you can second guess that choice, you send it off. 

Needing to expel some of these nerves, you get up out of bed to scavenge your fridge for a well-past-midnight snack. Maybe yogurt or something. Standing in the white light of the fridge, you realize food may not be the best choice. Nothing jumps out at you to want at two o’clock in the morning, stomach already doing flips and tricks as it is. You settle on a mini carton of strawberry milk that you may or may not finish and walk back to bed a little too fast. Quicker than your usual leisurely pace. 

You glance at your phone, laying face down on your bed like what you just watched on it made it shy. You want to text Yeosang so badly, to get his take on all of this, but you should let him sleep. Just because your sleep schedule is fucked doesn’t mean you have to ruin his as well. Your fingers absentmindedly tap the carton, only two sips deep in your drink. Hm. 

You’re just starting to flirt with the idea of calling Yeosang anyway when you get a notification that effectively snaps you out of your thought spiral. Whoever or whatever it is has just unknowingly saved Yeosang’s REM cycle. 

Not expecting a response so soon, your eyes widen a bit when you see that you’ve gotten a response back already. The quickness makes you a little wary. Scams usually are quick to respond back too. 

Or, this ‘Hongjoong’ guy may have a sleep schedule quite like yours. After all, you responded rather quickly to his first email. 

__________________________

Hi Miss Y/N, 

Thank you for getting back to me so quickly. We are thrilled to hear that you are accepting the offer. 

The next steps in moving forward are rather simple. I will ask you to fill out a form – which I have linked to this e-mail – and send that at your earliest convenience. It is your basic questionnaire, really, and a chance for us to get to know you as well as your preferences for the shoot and scene. 

 After you have sent that and we go over it, I would like to meet with you – either in person or through video call – for both our safety and to finalize all arrangements. If you choose to meet in person, I will gladly bring along a female member of my team in an effort to make you feel more comfortable and safe.  

As always, please feel free to reach out if you have any questions, comments, or concerns. Looking forward to hearing from you again. 

-Kim Hongjoong 

Talent Agent, Afterdark Productions

[email protected]  

| Attachment: 1 File

__________________________

‘We’, he wrote. 

‘We are thrilled to hear that you are accepting the offer.’ 

At first, you assumed he was just referencing the production company, but the specific use of it catches and holds your attention. Did San… ask for this collab to happen? Scrolling up to reread it again, the second line of the first e-mail you were sent strikes you: ‘We have been admiring your work for a while now…’ Not just the company. ‘We’ as in… 

You swallow hard, setting the strawberry milk on your nightstand and shrinking back against your pillows again. Your phone burns your eyes in the dark, but you can’t stop reading this new message. There’s so much to unpack, even though it’s so straightforward. As of right now, in regards to meeting with Kim Hongjoong, you’re leaning towards just a video call. You’re still not quite totally convinced this isn’t an elaborate prank of some kind. Maybe a weird fan who wants this to happen but there’s no truth to it. But again… you don’t get that vibe. Not from how professional this seems. And a crazy fan wouldn’t offer to bring along another woman to make you feel more comfortable, he’d insist on meeting alone, under the guise of ‘protecting our privacy’. 

And if it is real… then it is really happening. Moving forward, as the talent agent said, a collaboration in the early stages of planning. With Choi San. 

Dammit, Yeosang, why can’t you be awake right now, you think and you huff dramatically, burying your face in your hands. He’ll certainly get an earful of all of this tomorrow afternoon.   

But you decide you need to talk this through to somebody right now. Or some people. 

Even though you just went live, you’re quick to open your Discord app, not even bothering to send a warning message to tell your exclusive members that you’re going live again. This time, just for them. You know they’ll come. They always do. 

Once you have your laptop adjusted and headphones on, you’re ready to go. You click the microphone button and wait.  

As expected, four of them join immediately. You regularly wonder how they’re all able to drop everything to watch you, no matter what time you go live. Two others join soon after, but they rarely comment in the chat. Silent viewers with open wallets are never unwelcome here. 

“Hi guys! I have big news,” you smile into the camera, reading all the messages as they pop up. 

[woogoesthere]: tell ussssssss!!!!!

[fix0nmi]: 👀?

[mars9843]: what is it cutie?

[puppyu.u]: hi baby why the secret meeting?? 👀

You take a minute to let them get all their guesses out, increasing their desperation to know what you’re hiding from them. Hopefully they’ll take the news well. As far as you can tell, none of them specifically come across as the parasocial jealous type, but you don’t know for certain. However, they seemed to handle your previous collab with Yeosang pretty well. That gives you some more confidence to confide in them about this. 

“I’ve been offered to do a collab with someone from…” You pause before saying the company name for dramatic effect. “Afterdark.”

You’re a little surprised by the lack of comments right away, even worried a little. The thought of them being the parasocial jealous type crosses your mind again. Especially Woo. For a split second, you worry that you may have just angered your most loyal – and charitable – fans. The abrupt absence makes your heart plummet to your stomach. 

It takes a full minute before anyone says anything. The longest minute of your whole life. 

[woogoesthere]: are u telling us ur collabing w choi san?!!??!?!?! :0

Leave it to Woo to ease any worry you may have. You mask your relieved exhale under a light laugh. 

“Should I be worried?” you half joke. 

The immediate responses in the comments are overwhelming and collective:

[puppyu.u]: yes!!!!!! 

[mars9843]: be afraid, be very afraid 

[fix0nmi]: he’s gonna wreck you lmao 

[fix0nmi]: icw to watch 🤪

[puppyu.u]: same 😭😏😭

[mars9843]: if you could barely handle yeo………

Your confident smile fades slightly, the corners of your mouth dropping back down as you read the multiple comments confirming what you’ve been wondering. 

[woogoesthere]: guys stop ur gonna scare her ㅠㅠ

You try to laugh it off, looking off camera to grab your strawberry milk again. The action gives your hands something to do as worry begins to settle in your chest. Of course, Woo tries to ease your growing anxieties in the chat as you lift the bottle to your lips, eyes still scanning the messages… or rather, the warnings. 

[puppyu.u]: well it’s true 

[woogoesthere]: we should be encouraging tho >:( 

[fix0nmi]: yeah or else she won’t do it 👀

[mars9843]: … 

[mars9843]: y/n we’re just kiddinggggg

[fix0nmi]: you’ll be fine~! >:) 

[woogoesthere]: -.- 

[puppyu.u]: drink lots of water beforehand! 

[woogoesthere]: you pervs are so annoying

“I can do it!” You try to regain your previous confidence. 

A shroud of doubt begins to creep up over your shoulders, weighing you down. You’re able to hide it well, but you go quiet. Quieter than usual when you’re live. You don’t like silences that last too long. Unfortunately, your sudden silence is noticeable. 

[puppyu.u]: babyyyyyy 

[puppyu.u]: don’t listen to us we’re just teasing 

[fix0nmi]: haha sorry baby

[mars9843]: you’re gonna be great, pretty girl 

[fix0nmi]: can’t wait to see it ;) 

[woogoesthere]: you ARE gonna be great

[woogoesthere]: choi san has no idea what an honor this is fr ㅠㅠ

That last message brings your smile back, tugging at the corners of your mouth until you give into it. ‘Woo’ is right. You have to remember who the fuck you are. Choi San sought you out specifically. There’s no need to be nervous about anything. It’s a different side of an industry that you’re already accustomed to, that’s all. You just have to adapt to however it operates for one day, and if you hate it, you’ll never have to do it again. And hey, you’ll get to say you’ve had that first and only experience with San of all people. 

What a debut. 

Your loyal fans must notice the confidence boost you’re experiencing because they’re quick to praise it in the chat. 

[fix0nmi]: there she is :) 

[woogoesthere]: ugh ur too cute 

[puppyu.u]: fr that bastard has no idea how lucky he is ㅠㅠ

[mars9843]: he better be nice to u >:( 

“Aww, you guys are so sweet,” you giggle softly, enjoying their attention and their praises. Your nerves are somewhat settled for the time being, though you can’t promise they won’t return once you open your eyes tomorrow morning. You wonder what Yeosang will say about it. 

Leaning back against your headboard, you exhale deeply – maybe even adding a little hint of a whine-like noise to keep them entertained. ‘Pervs’, as ‘Woo’ put it, indeed. Not that you minded. 

You hum to yourself and mention how much better they’ve made your night, and they eat it up. 

“Thank you all for your love and support. Truly.”    

You talk with them for a while longer, reciprocating their interest in you by asking them about their days and what they’re doing tomorrow. One of the silent viewers goes offline, and you can’t say that you blame them – no one should still be awake at this hour. You’re not sure if you’ll fall asleep quickly after you log off, so maybe that’s why you linger here and continue to talk with them. The minutes continue to go by and you start to feel guilty for keeping them all up this late. You know it’s their choice to stay and talk, but still. Odds are that at least one of them has to be up early tomorrow morning. They won’t leave until you do. 

“I’m gonna go to bed, guys. Thank you for staying up and chatting with me.” You smile, watching all of their usernames simultaneously start typing again. 

[mars9843]: goodnight cutie

[fix0nmi]: night babe ;)

[woogoesthere]: aww have a good night jagi <333 

[puppyu.u]: sweet dreams baby <3

[puppyu.u]: <3333

You giggle, noticing ‘puppyu.u’’s competitiveness. Before ‘Woo’ can start a war to see how many 3’s they can add to their hearts, you quickly blow them all a kiss and end the call. 

The silence of your apartment comes back quickly. Naturally, so do your racing thoughts. You place your laptop on your nightstand and crawl back under the covers, hoping against hope that you can smother your thoughts with your pillow. 

Your phone vibrates against your thigh and you sneak a quick glance at it, half-expecting another e-mail, only to find a Venmo notification. It’s from Woo. Your exclusive members have the username of your ‘business’ Venmo account to send you money outside of cams, if they choose to. The message he attaches to the money makes you laugh: ‘i’m not losing to puppyu.u so easily. goodnight<333333333333’ 

Oh, man. 

Make that $14,751 now. 

You wince as you notice the time in the upper lefthand corner of your phone screen. Yeosang was very clear in his text: you better be awake by noon. Knowing how late you usually sleep until, it’s not looking good. Hoping it will help, you set several alarms on your phone. Surely one of them will wake you up. You switch your phone off, refusing to check it again until tomorrow morning. 

Without your phone to distract you though, all you do is replay that video you watched of San and that actress. The memory of it projects against your eyelids and you can’t look away. A shiver runs through you when you picture how his hands held her with such gentle strength, and the addictive moans he wasn’t afraid to let out. The same thought echoes until you finally fall asleep: that’ll be you.  

· · ─────── ·☆· ─────── · ·

Against all odds, and seven missed alarms later, you manage to wake up – albeit, exhausted – around ten o’clock. Plenty of time before Yeosang is due to come over. 

After you eat breakfast, you decide to spend the morning researching San, watching more of his videos, listening to interviews, stalking his Instagram, anything you can find to get to know him better. Or at least, to get a better grasp on what you should expect. Hongjoong never clarified if it was going to be just you and him at this future meeting or you, him, and San. You want to be ready. 

From what you can find, you’ve come to the tentative conclusion that he appears smart, funny, well-traveled, and handsome. That last one is a given to anyone with eyes, though. It seems like he could’ve succeeded in any field of his choosing, but his candor is notoriously present and blunt whenever he gets asked why he’s gone into this profession: “I like sex. I happen to be good at it, so why not?” 

You get it. Easy money. 

His Instagram is mostly pictures of him in exotic locations. It seems you and him have dream destinations in mind for the future as well. Nine million followers strong – and counting – he has his comments turned off to them on every post. There is also no message option anywhere. He completely cuts himself off from being accessible. A part of you is a little jealous, but at the same time you like the closeness with your fans. It feels more intimate, it gives you a reason to be punctual and come back and care about what you do. Although some, like that ‘mntn3000’ guy, can sometimes be quite rude in the chat. You have your chat open to all, and your public Instagram is the complete opposite of San’s. Thirst traps, a highlight on your profile for song recommendations, and the ability to comment and message you. Not that you answer most of them. Most are gross, obnoxious, frankly misogynistic men who choose the most unhinged, disgusting words to express their… ‘desires’. You’re thankful for Woo and fans like him. Still… you find yourself wondering if you should limit your accessibility as well. Your popularity is rising. Maybe now is the time. 

You still find yourself looking for everything and anything that has to do with him online. Everyone wants to be him or be with him. One of those guys. Of course. 

You rest your head in your hands, groaning to no one in particular. After all the women he’s been with, you hope you can meet his expectations. A worthy costar. Same industry, different department. 

By the time Yeosang knocks on your door at a quarter past noon, your mind is so far away he has to call you to let him in. 

“Hey, sorry.” You apologize, ushering him in and locking the door behind him. 

“I knew you wouldn’t be awake,” he grins, making himself right at home on your couch. “Is going live for thirty minutes really all it takes to make you catatonic the rest of the day?” 

You roll your eyes, swatting his shoulder as you sit down next to him. “Shut up, it’s not because of that. Well… not exactly.” 

Yeosang quirks an eyebrow, intrigued. “Go on, then. What’s up?” 

You pull out your phone, ready to show him the evidence to back up what you’re about to say. The original email is still unchanged as you glance down at it, which is encouraging. Another reminder that you didn’t make this all up in your head. It didn’t happen in a dream, there’s hard evidence staring you in the face. 

Well, now or never. Out with it. 

“I, um… I got an offer to work with Choi San.” Your voice toes the line between excitement and cautious optimism. If anyone’s opinion matters to you at all, it’s Yeosang’s. 

Yeosang’s eyebrows raise at the name. “Like… the Choi San?”

“The Choi San, yes.” You nod, confirming it’s exactly who he’s thinking about. 

Handing your phone over to him, email ready to be read by a fresh pair of eyes, you watch his reactions closely. You find yourself biting the side of your thumb nail, a habit you keep thinking you’ve grown out of, only to be proven wrong in times like these. 

Yeosang’s face is serious as he reads it. You can tell he’s searching for any indication of this being a scam first and foremost before he digests the rest of it. Finding no blatant or well-hidden tricks, he pays more attention to the general message.       

“Are you gonna do it?” He asks, handing your phone back to you. His voice holds some reservation to it that you clearly pick up on. You take no offense, though. He’s just worried about you. It’s more… public than you’re used to. 

“I don’t know,” you shrug, answering him honestly. “I’ve done my research on him and already sent them an email back saying that I was interested and wanted to know more, but… do you think I should?”

You truly value his opinion. Yeosang has been such a good friend to you for the past couple of years. The two of you had met in your second year of college and became fast friends. When you moved to the city, about a year after he did, he helped you find your first apartment, got you a job, and checked in on you to make sure you knew you had a friend here. He made everything easier. He still does.  

Yeosang shrugs, “Doesn’t matter what I think. If you feel confident about doing it, then go for it. If something is telling you to not do it, then don’t.”

He makes it sound so easy. Should it be? 

“Yeah, but… I value your opinion.” You mumble, not outwardly saying what you’re thinking. But he reads your mind anyway. 

“Y/N, it’s not gonna change my view of you if you decide to do this. If I had a problem with my best friend being a mattress actress, I would’ve told you a long time ago. Y’know… before I collabed with you.” 

At this, you can’t help but laugh, knowing he’s right. A pressure you didn’t realize was weighing on you is alleviated off your shoulders, making you feel lighter. He grins as you let out a small sigh of relief, glad that he eased some of your worries. Now, to tease you about it. As best friends do. 

“I’m just worried that you won’t survive the experience,” Yeosang says dramatically, covering his eyes with his arm and sneaking a smile your way. 

“Stop, what do you mean?” You push him, playfully. 

“You said you researched him, right?” 

You nod, wondering where he’s going with this. Is there something you’ve missed? You feel like you’re the only one left out of a well-known inside joke. You try to think back to the videos you’ve seen of him. Sure, you haven’t watched his whole filmography, but nevertheless, you’d like to believe you know roughly what to expect of him when the day comes. 

“Did you watch the ones he’s done for ‘Fantasy’?” Yeosang smirks. 

You blink, trying to remember if you did. To be totally honest, you weren’t really paying much attention to which company was posting the videos. Just that San was in them. 

“I don’t know… maybe?” 

Yeosang shakes his head, already seeming to know the answer. “You’d know if you did,” he says definitively. “If you wanna know what he’s really capable of, watch some of those.” 

You stop yourself from rolling your eyes, frustrated that no one will just tell you what they’re talking about. You only have one guess, that it may be due to the fact that you’ve only ever been with two guys before. They each taught you the basics, but everything you bring to your livestreams, you learned all on your own. And it’s not like you’re clueless when it comes to the different kinds of sexual encounters one can experience. You’ve watched porn before – hell, you do a type of it for a living. So why does everyone keep underestimating you? What does San possibly do to make everyone think you won’t survive him? 

A part of you kind of doesn’t want to know. You don’t need to give your creeping self-doubt any more ammo. It had taken you a long time to beat it far back enough in your mind for it to not invade every time you hit a little snag in life. A resurgence would make you question everything, make you back out of this quickly. You don’t want that. No, you’re determined even more so now to see this through. To prove everyone wrong. More importantly, though, to prove it to yourself. 

“Sounds like he sought you out though,” Yeosang says. His words almost make you jolt. Not only do they pull you out of another spiral, it reinforces something you were thinking in passing last night. Maybe you aren’t reading too much into it after all. “Kinda seems like this Hongjoong guy and San are fans of yours.” 

You hide your face in your hands and groan, making Yeosang laugh at your rare display of shyness. It’s frustratingly unclear to you why the idea of him watching your content makes your cheeks burn so much. You’re obviously comfortable with people seeing your body and earning a profit from it, but you like the anonymity of the people watching. You simply don’t want to know. Perhaps it’s because he’s about to not be a faceless viewer anymore. Rather, a colleague of sorts. 

Also, in a way, you tend to view cam’ing as more… intimate than porn. The sole focus of the audience is on you. No fake plot, no costar, no distractions. Just you, reading the chat, and existing and getting off in real time. 

“Sounds like it,” you agree. “I must’ve done something he likes to pique his interest.” 

Yeosang shrugs, a playful grin tugging at his lips. “Or he saw the collab and this is all just an elaborate ruse to get to me.” 

You’re grateful to relax enough to laugh again. “Oh, I bet.” You say, playing along. Though, part of you does wonder for a brief moment if San had watched the collab and that’s why he thought you’d be a good partner for his next project. It’s definitely plausible.    

“So,” Yeosang leans back against the couch, crossing his legs, “what do you have to do now?” 

Remembering the phone in your hand, you look down at it, visualizing that attachment Hongjoong sent you. Yet to be opened. “There’s a form I have to fill out, I think it’s some kind of consent form.” 

He nods, “Yeah, that’d make sense.” 

There’s a small silence between you that follows as he watches you stare down at your phone. You have the most recent email pulled up, analyzing it again. He watches you bite the inside of your cheek, a habit you have that comes up when you’re thinking a little too hard about something.  

“Do you want me to go through it with you?” He asks, though he thinks he knows what you’ll say. 

“No, I’ll do it myself. It’s gonna ask like… in depth questions,” you insinuate, almost shyly. 

Yeosang doesn’t press you on it, which you appreciate. But you know he’s probably thinking there’s not much he doesn’t know about you. After all, he was fingering you to high heaven in front of a camera only a week ago. Still, he doesn’t push your privacy or your boundaries. It’s one of the many things that makes you feel safe with him. 

Breezing past the subject, knowing you probably need to relieve some stress, he picks up one of the gaming controllers on your coffee table. 

“Rematch?” He asks, referring to a game of Mario Kart fairly won by you, though his opinion of the event is rather different. Something to do with you ‘innocently’ bumping into him, causing him to almost drop his controller, and giving you the lead in the race. His win streak is much cleaner than yours. 

“You’re on,” you agree, playfully narrowing your eyes at him as he scoots away from you on the couch. 

There’ll be no ‘accidents’ this time. But maybe you’ll think of something.  

· · ─────── ·☆· ─────── · ·

The rest of the day is light. 

Little by little, the weight of uncertainty you feel fades into the background, instead transforming into unserious frustration as Yeosang beats you in Mario Kart six times in a row. You win the seventh round, but you highly suspect he let you. He had several speed boosts and red shells that would just disappear from his screen the next time you looked, wondering when he would fire one of those shells at you. 

You order in, opting to stay inside and just be lazy today, and the two of you eat on the couch. When the sun eventually starts to set late in the afternoon, he takes a nap while you scroll on your phone, half-watching a K-Drama on your TV. Neither of you bring up San or the form still laying in wait in your inbox again. He wakes up around eight o’clock, yawning and stretching as he gets up to go home – he mentions that he promised his friend he’d go out with him tonight. Though he extends the offer, and part of you does want to go, you decide to be responsible and take the night to go through the form with a somewhat clearer mind than last night or this morning.   

Almost as soon as Yeosang leaves, you’re back in bed and pulling everything up on your laptop. The attached file on the most recent email takes just a second to load, bringing you to a Google Form sheet, ready to be completed. 

But first, you think about what he said about San. You want to know what everyone else already seems to. At least one video. Just for research purposes again. 

In another tab on incognito mode, you hesitantly type in the search for ‘choi san redfantasy’ and bite the inside of your cheek as the page loads. The typical ads pop up before you’re able to see any actual content, avoiding the scams and viruses with practiced ease. Trying to not overthink it, you just click on the first video that comes up. In fact, you barely look at the title. It’s in all caps, a bunch of buzzwords and tags jammed together to get as many eyes on it as possible, but his name is always put first. That’s the seller right there. Audiences are in the market for Choi San. 

There is no plot this time, at least none that you can discern. The lighting is darker, as well as the mood. There’s less build up, the action begins almost straight away after the company logo screen fades away. 

Your chest constricts at the very first shot. A rather pretty woman, on her knees in the middle of a room. Her bare knees dig into the plush carpet beneath her and she looks up at the man in front of her, tilting her head up with a firm hand in her hair. 

San. 

“...didn’t you?” You barely hear him say to her, and you quickly turn up the volume on your laptop, rewinding the video ten seconds to hear the full question. 

“You misbehaved today, didn't you?” He purrs, nodding once to give her permission to speak. 

“Yes, sir.” She replies, obediently. 

The hand in her hair is taken away, and yet she never takes her eyes off of him. You imagine that’s probably what she was instructed to do… but you’re starting to think a director wasn’t involved in this. Everything seems more intimate, less corporate. Like San just set up a camera in this expensive looking hotel room. A step above amateur porn. 

San stalks around her, humming to himself as if sizing her up. The camera cuts to a slightly different angle, farther away, and you only just now realize that her hands are tied behind her back. The multiple static angles all but confirm your theory: everything in this video is by San’s design. 

He then sits down on a rather large, black leather couch, facing her. The camera caresses his features, letting you see every detail of the tailored suit he’s wearing that fits him perfectly. The suit itself is probably more expensive than five of those couches. Wordlessly, he beckons her closer with two of his fingers. He almost looks bored. But you think bored is the wrong word… curious actually. Like he’s just taking his time, waiting for her to act first. His tempo is carefully curated and well-calculated. He reacts, even though he knows they’re both just enacting what this company wants to see. Like this isn’t just for the cameras. Every scene is serious to him, and yet it doesn’t come across as corny or too much. You wonder why he doesn’t go into acting. He seems more than able to convince people of real chemistry between himself and his co-star each and every time. And with a face card like his, you doubt he would’ve had many rejections. 

Then again, you imagine it’d be rather hard to make a smooth transition into becoming a serious and respected actor after being in adult films. 

She manages to make her way over to him, knelt in between his knees, waiting for further instruction. And he makes her wait. The camera cuts a couple of times, documenting the power dynamic from several angles. It’s evident a long time has passed because she keeps shifting her weight, knees never quite finding relief on the floor.   

A small whimper leaves her, and it earns her a sharp smack across the cheek. You gasp at the same time she does, not expecting that at all for an action so miniscule. In almost the same motion, San’s grip returns to her hair, pulling her closer to his clothed crotch. 

“Be actually useful for once, baby.” He says sweetly, like he’s praising instead of degrading her. “Earn it.” 

You can tell she’s holding back another whimper, trying to be good. San guides her further down, until her face is pressed into the front seam of his tailored pants, and holds her there until she realizes what he wants her to do. Rather pathetically, she mouths at his dick through the fabric. He’s not even hard yet. No, he fully expects her to do all the work for him, including getting him ready. 

While she’s… busy, he lazily takes off his watch, setting it aside and rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt to just above his elbows. You’ve seen him naked about a dozen times in these types of videos, and for some reason, this is what sends an uncontrollable shiver down your spine. Almost on sight, you feel how wet you’ve become, panties starting to cling to you. 

His face is stony, refusing to give away what he’s thinking. That’s privileged information. But the harder he gets, the more motivated she becomes, tilting her head to the side to attempt to wrap her lips around his length as best she can. And yet, he never says anything. No praise, no degradation. He lets her actions speak for themselves, lets it burrow into her mind on her own. Pathetic. She doesn’t bother looking up at him for reassurance anymore. He’s not giving her anything to work with. 

Abruptly, he yanks her back by the hair, just to see if she makes a noise. She does. Another sharp crack against her cheek makes you squeeze your thighs together. She takes three more slaps until he stops, his hands leave her entirely and one grips himself through his pants, sighing like he’s bored. Or rather, disappointed. From what you can discern from the print against his pants, he’s only half-hard. 

“You don’t want it that badly, do you?” He asks like he’s already decided her answer. 

Frantically, she shakes her head, denying his assumption. “No, no sir, I do want it. Please, I want it so–” 

Unfortunately for her, his mind is already made up. 

San rises from the couch, picking her up into his arms easily, like she weighed nothing. The camera cuts, now facing the bed, and San lays her down onto it. He then goes about tying her down to it, on all-fours. The girl’s face presses into the pillows, muffling any noise. San ties her ankles to the bedposts, leaving her spread open for him with no chance of closing herself off. Fully exposed, at his mercy. Or lack thereof. 

San then loosens his tie before wrapping it around her throat, fashioning it into a makeshift collar and leash. He tugs it once, testing its reliability. Satisfied, he lets it go for the time being, no doubt planning on using it later. For now, he stalks around the bed, admiring his work, and assessing the best way to deal with the girl tied to the bed. 

“Since you couldn’t wait and just had to touch yourself before you came to me, I’m gonna teach you some patience.” 

As if the last few times weren’t enough, an involuntary sound escapes from her lips. Soon enough, her ass is red and bruised, San’s hand quick to punish her for making noise. 

“Be quiet,” he reminds sternly, “or you get nothing.” 

That’s good motivation. Suddenly, you feel like you can’t make a single noise either. 

He disappears offscreen for a while, the camera cutting a few times to capture how the anticipation makes the girl very nervous and wet at the same time. Impatient, you skip ahead thirty seconds and San pops back into frame, holding something. 

There’s no warning, no telling her what it is. Only he and the audience (you) know. He holds the vibrator wand right up to her pussy, mere centimetres away and pauses. Her toes curl in an effort to stop the rest of her body from squirming. He waits for any minuscule movement. It’s when she cranes her neck, attempting to look back to see what he’s doing, that he turns it onto the highest setting and presses it against her clit in one swift motion. 

Poor thing gasps and screams at the intense, unexpected vibrations, earning her another brutal round of spanks. 

“Shhh,” he hushes her softly, “be quiet. Don’t move.” 

Your pulse stutters, eyes wider than they were before, and your hand starts to drift downwards, underneath your clothes, to find your clit. The relief is immediate, like scratching an itch. You work yourself up alongside her, trying to follow San’s instructions yourself. Breaths turning shallow, you press your lips together to keep from making any sounds. If you really wanted to immerse and challenge yourself, you’d grab your own vibrator from the drawer, but you can’t tear your gaze from the screen. You don’t want to miss anything, and you feel like pausing it would disrupt the experience. If this is potentially what’s in store for you, and she doesn’t get a break, you don’t get one either. 

Her fists tighten and grab at nothing, still bound behind her back. You can tell she’s losing the fight to follow through with his instructions. San notices this too. He moves the vibrator up and down, grinding the head of it harder on her clit before moving it away again. You have no idea how she’s managing to hold on. 

San hears it the same time you do, not a gasp or a noise per se, but a hitch of her breath, just audible enough to hear. At the same time, her legs begin to shake, out of her control to stop them from doing so. 

He takes the vibrator away, switching it off. 

Her toes curl again, burying her face deeper into the pillows to silence any sounds. Your hand stops dead, even though all you want to do is keep circling your clit. 

“See what I have to do?” He sighs, trailing the head of the vibrator down the back of her thighs. “If you just waited for me, I wouldn’t have to do this. I wouldn’t have to waste my time teaching you to be patient.”

Damn. Have you ever heard him talk to any of his scene partners like this? The San from the first video you watched as part of your ‘research’ feels a million miles away. A completely different person. 

Eventually, the vibrator is returned to her clit, humming at full power. You resume your own administrations as well. San kneads her ass with his free hand, eyes glued to her body, waiting for her to fuck up. Any excuse to take the pleasure away again. An excuse comes when she’s forced back onto the brink of an orgasm, and he switches the toy off again. But he keeps it pressed against her pussy. On instinct, her hips rock backwards, trying to chase the pleasure, and you can’t help but groan out of frustration as you take your hand away. This time, he doesn’t administer spanks to her ass, but right on her pussy. And she can’t help the high-pitched yelp that leaps from her throat. San spanks her pussy until she shuts up. You don’t realize you’ve stopped breathing until the uncomfortable pressure in your throat forces you to inhale deeply. 

The girl shudders after the last smack but doesn’t move or say a word. You’re both rooting for her and secretly hoping she’ll screw up again, just to see what he does. Also, you want to see if he’ll actually fuck her. 

Rather impatiently, you skip ahead a couple of minutes, needing to know if he’s the type to punish by leaving her empty the whole time. It takes only a second for the video to buffer and when it does, you see that he’s added another toy, keeping it pressed deep into her pussy, right up to the very base of it. The vibrator never leaves her clit. The skin of her ass is bright red and already bruising in some areas. It looks rather painful. She’s moaning but it’s muffled and barely audible – you can imagine San gagged her in some way to keep her quiet after failing over and over again. Possibly with his tie. He doesn’t move the toy at all, instead just forcing her to feel the thickness and weight of it buried deep inside of her, no doubt pressing right up against her g-spot. 

If he denies her again in this state, you’ll really be scared of him. 

And that, he does. 

This time, she wails through her gag, her whole body locking up and then quickly deflating in defeat. But the time in between denials is no longer merciful. San waits maybe ten seconds before starting again, placing the vibrator back where it belongs. 

God damn– you think, becoming wetter as your fingers find your clit again, your own pleasure building. The poor girl shrieks into the pillows, incoherently pleading with him to stop. Instead of listening to her cries, San taps the vibrator against her pussy, driving her – and you – even more crazy. 

“I’m doing you a favor,” he says flatly, not caring that she’s essentially begging for mercy. “You should be apologizing for making me waste my time to teach you basic manners.” 

Your mouth drops open at that. He’s so mean, and yet if you were in her position – which you may be soon – you’re pretty sure you’d start apologizing right away. But she can’t, at least not properly. Not with a gag in her mouth and her face half-pressed into the pillows. You imagine after being denied what must be nearing ten orgasms at this point, her mind is also going a bit blank. 

He presses the vibrator harder against her, making her back arch. “Tell me how sorry you are and maybe I’ll stop.” 

That grabs her attention. Muffled, garbled, and barely full sentences immediately tumble from her lips, on the off chance that he’ll take pity on her and stop this edging torture. Her body shudders violently, cutting off her voice entirely.  

Rather surprisingly, he does let up. Both toys disappear at once, and he watches her body collapse onto the bed, burning muscles unable to hold herself up any longer. But he doesn’t let the relief stay for long. His hand twists in her hair, yanking her upright until her back is against his chest. With the other, he rips the gag out – which was, in fact, his tie. 

“I’ll give you one chance to tell me the truth,” he mutters in her ear, his other hand lingering dangerously close to her sore mound. “Did you just cum without permission? Yes or no.” 

A sob tears itself from her throat, knowing that she’s been caught. 

San pulls her hair again, causing her to yelp again. “Answer me,” he hisses, “and don’t you dare lie to me.” 

“Y-yes, sir,” she whimpers, honest. 

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t let her go. He just makes her stay with that feeling of guilt, the shame of being caught, and the foreboding knowledge that he’s going to have to punish her again. With his free hand, he runs the pads of his fingers through her soaking wet folds, collecting the evidence for himself. To humiliate her even further, he shoves those fingers into her mouth, pressing on her tongue. She whines around them, which he rewards by shoving his fingers deeper, into her throat. Tears flow down her face and neck, already utterly fucked out and he hasn’t even touched her himself, really. He’s still fully clothed, for fuck’s sake. 

San sighs, thinking aloud, “What should I do with you, hm?” 

Busy choking and spluttering around the intrusion in her throat, she can’t answer him at all. He probably doesn’t want an answer, though. You have a feeling he knows exactly what he’s going to do with her. 

Once again, you’re proven correct when he lets her go and pulls his fingers out of her mouth. He watches her gasp for air and cough violently for a fleeting moment of relative peace before dragging her back towards the edge of the bed. 

“Fucking useless slut…” he mutters to himself, just audible enough for her to hear. “You wanna cum so bad? Fine.” 

A new toy is brought into frame, this one looking more daunting than the other two. You can tell it’s one of those two-for-one types, and your heart goes out to her. It slips inside of her easily, though it’s thicker than the previous dildo, all but confirming once again that she did cum without his permission. This time, there’s no mystery or question about what he’s going to do to her. She knows. The knowing is almost worse than the not-knowing. 

He switches it on without much ceremony. She does her best to not move or make a sound, but another orgasm builds rapidly. Too fast, too soon. 

For seven straight orgasms, he just watches her. He doesn’t even touch himself even though you can tell he’s hard beneath those tailored pants. Her pleas fall on deaf ears, like he’s not even in the room. You’ve barely managed to keep up with her, coaxing two weak orgasms from your own body with just your fingers and already feeling exhausted. Fuck, maybe everyone’s right… 

You tap the screen to see how much more of the video is left, and your eyebrows raise when you see there’s still ten more minutes. You decide to skim through, just curious if he ever does let her have his cock.

Spoiler alert: he does not. 

In reality, the only thing he changes is that he jerks himself off, getting off on her screams and pleas for him to turn the toy off, that she’s had enough. For the last two orgasms he forces her through, he adds his thumb to her clit, circling it mercilessly. 

“One more, come on. This is what you wanted, isn’t it? To cum?” 

Through her tears and scratchy voice, she warbles, “W-want– wanted you t-to fuck me…” 

He only laughs at her, and it sends such a blow to your psyche. 

“Did you really think I would?” 

She screams again, mixing with her sobs and choked groans as the final orgasm rips through her worn-out body. The only act of kindness he gives her is removing the toy and kissing her back, in between her shoulder blades. 

He takes his time to untie her ankles from the bedposts, his hands smoothing over the skin where the rope had been. Wrecked and twitching, she curls into a ball on the bed, pussy sore and swollen. Knowing this, San drags her back down towards the foot of the bed, forcing her legs apart again. Her hands weakly try to push him away, but he ducks down, licking a near-fatal stripe up her folds, sucking harshly on her clit. Voice basically gone, her scream is broken and breathy. 

That’s a habit he has, you’ve noticed. Or maybe just a signature thing. No matter what, when he’s done with his scene partner, he gives their pussy one final lick. As if he’s sealing the deal. Something they’ll feel long after the cameras stop rolling, along with the ache of their inner walls. 

San chuckles, patting her inner thigh with his hand before pulling her onto the floor, back down onto her knees. He doesn't say anything more as he jerks off in front of her, aiming his cock right at her face. He lets her suck on it, much to your surprise, and he eventually comes. Some of it inside of her mouth, and the rest, he smears across her face. The final act of humiliation for her. 

You slam your laptop shut. 

Holy. Shit.       

· · ─────── ·☆· ─────── · ·

You come back to the forms after a cold shower and a half an hour long pacing session in your living room. 

With a somewhat clearer head, you decide to take it one question at a time. 

At first glance, you can’t help but feel like you’re filling out the forms you’d normally get in a doctor’s office. It covers everything. Height, weight, age, consent for Afterdark to inquire upon certain medical history to ensure the prevention of any diseases or illnesses, and payment information. On the next page, it goes deeper, and you almost want to take another lap before you dive in and check off any of the boxes. 

There’s a checklist of kinks, each one with a box to check if any are ‘hard no’s’ or ‘hard yesses’for you. You gotta hand it to Afterdark, they’re very thorough. At the very top, just above this checklist, you notice two more boxes simply labelled ‘Rough’ and ‘Gentle’. 

Ah. 

This must be the reason that every video with San feels different. Not just because of whatever context they provide in the beginning of the video, but he never exactly has the same go-to way of fucking every time. Except of course, that parting move he’s so accustomed to doing. With some women, he takes it very slow, gentle and caring with lots of praise, and with others, like the one you just watched, he is ruthless and mean, denying orgasms and spanking them until their skin turns an alarming shade of red. They’ve tailored their own experience with him. That makes you feel a bit better actually, gives you more of a sense of control. You’re not just walking into this with no say in what he does to you, nor will you be blindsided. Actually, you’ll have a pretty good idea, and no worries that he’ll do something you’re uncomfortable with. 

The empty boxes still taunt you. Which version of him do you want? 

After much consideration, you eventually let fate decide. You pick both options. Rough and gentle. Let’s see what he does with that. 

Moving on, forcing yourself to breathe slower, you continue down the list of kinks. Again, it’s very thorough, even asking for locations that you’d be okay filming in. You check off ‘hard no’ on most, if not all of the ‘bodily fluids’ section of the kink list. All except creampies, crying, and squirting. You wonder if he’ll be able to make you do that. If so, you don’t want to discourage him from it. You’re okay with toys, cunnilingus, fingers in your mouth, body worship, hair pulling, hickies, clothed sex, light bondage, the traffic light system, and spanking, just to name a few. You also mean to check off a hard ‘yes’ to aftercare. Aftercare is a non-negotiable for you. One of your exes never did that for you, and it’s been a dealbreaker ever since you got out of that relationship. You dislike feeling used after-the-fact. Discarded. It’s an ugly shock to your system, one that you’d like to avoid if possible. 

Double checking everything on this page, you go to the third and final page. 

In the top half, there’s an interactive calendar so you can input dates and times when you’re free to do the shoot. You’re pretty much free all the time, if you’re being honest. You just have a family wedding to go to in late August, two months from now. Though you’d rather do the shoot later in the day, not wanting to risk sleeping through it with your terrible sleep schedule. So, you mark every afternoon and evening as ‘available’. 

In the bottom half of the page, there’s just one last question, accompanied by a text box: ‘Tell us about yourself, and what we can do to better tailor this experience for you.’ 

You have to admit, you weren’t expecting this kind of question to come up. They want to know about you? Tailor this opportunity for you? 

Huh. 

Your mind goes blank at first. What could they possibly want to know? What are they actually looking for? There’s really no telling. 

Slowly, you type out a vague summary of where you grew up, why you started doing cam-shows, and that your favorite color is purple. When it comes to writing about how they can improve on this collaboration, your fingers hover over the keyboard. Stuck. You could just straight up not say anything, or just put ‘N/A’. But your inner professional tells you to answer it. You search yourself, wondering if there’s anything that would make you feel a little more comfortable while there. You assume they’ll provide a robe for you, or something to cover you up when you’re not filming, but you’ve also heard how ‘fucking cold’ porn sets are kept. Not exactly wanting to show up with a blanket from home, you decide that’ll be your one request. 

‘If it’s not too much to ask, I’d like a blanket while on set. Thank you! :)’ 

You double – triple – check each form page, making sure you didn’t accidentally check something off or type in your information wrong. After you confirm that everything is accurate and spelled correctly, you click on the ‘submit’ button. A ‘thank you’ screen pops up, and you quickly exit the tab, not wanting to think about it anymore. It’s out of your hands now. 

But speaking of the hands it’s now in, you have to set up a meeting time with this Kim Hongjoong guy.  

Right. Okay, onto the next step. 

In a new email, you type out all the dates and times you’re free – you may have made yourself sound busier than you actually are – and send it off to him. Glad to have everything done, you flop back against your pillows and groan. You replay all the images you’ve seen. All the things he’s done to multiple women. 

You wonder what on earth he’ll do with you. 

· · ─────── ·☆· ─────── · ·

It’s the next day that ends up being the meeting day. 

You opt for a virtual meeting, reasoning that it’ll probably be quicker and easier for both of you. From what it sounds like, being employed by Afterdark and Choi San keeps Hongjoong rather busy. 

You do your makeup and hair, wanting to look presentable. It’s the shirt that gives you a headache. You’re rather unsure how professional you should look. What does someone wear to a meeting like this? You look down at your chest, trying to mentally calculate how much of it is appropriate to show, and choosing a shirt based on that. Eventually, you just pick a nice triangle lace cami. Kim Hongjoong will just have to excuse the fact that it’s summer and hot in your apartment in the afternoons. You’ve been meaning to figure out how the air conditioning works. It’s hi-tech in a way that truly baffles you. You’ll get Yeosang to figure it out the next time he comes over. 

Moving your laptop into the kitchen for the natural light, you try to shake the nerves out of your hands as you walk around the kitchen island. You grab a cold water from the fridge and drink half of it before forcing yourself to sit down. The meeting is set for two-thirty, just a few minutes away. You kind of want to scream into the pillows on your couch. This will be the final stage until you actually go through with this whole collaboration. The last buffer until it happens. 

In the upper right hand corner, you see an email notification from Hongjoong, providing you with a link to a video chatroom. For a full sixty seconds, you pretend you haven’t seen it yet. But when that minute is up, and you have to be an adult, you take one more sip of water before clicking on the link and sneaking a glance at yourself in the reflection of your laptop as the camera loads. 

There’s a small boop sound from your laptop, signalling that the call has been connected and you brace yourself for a scam. Your hand hovers above the trackpad, ready to hit ‘end call’ at a moment’s notice. When his camera finally loads, you breathe a little easier. He’s in an office based on context clues of what you can see around him, and he’s rather handsome himself. That admittedly takes you aback. He has short, dark brown hair, round eyes, and a charming smile once he sees you on his screen. He pushes his glasses further up his sharp nose, and leans forward in his seat a little bit. 

“Miss Y/N! It’s so nice to talk with you today, how are you?” 

“I’m doing well, thank you. Are you the one I’ve been emailing?” You ask when he doesn’t introduce himself by name. You just want to clarify. 

He laughs to break any awkward tension, “Yes, that’s me. My apologies, I’m San’s agent, Kim Hongjoong.”

“Okay, good.” You smile back, shoulders relaxing a little more. His dress shirt makes you feel a bit… well, underdressed, but when you notice that the top two buttons are undone, it makes you feel a bit better. He’s clearly not going for ultra-professional right now either. Off camera, in your lap, you play with one of your rings, giving your nervous hands something to do. 

Unexpectedly, the first ten minutes are spent just making small-talk, especially after finding out you and him grew up around the same area. He asks you how you like the city, and you find yourself telling him about how much you love it, and that you never want to leave. Turns out he shares the same sentiment. It’s starting to feel less like a rigid job interview and more like a casual interaction. Nothing to be afraid of. You feel much more comfortable than you did ten minutes ago, that’s for sure. 

Hongjoong eventually looks over to the side, where his desktop computer is and starts clicking around, the light reflecting off of his glasses. And you realize that it’s time to actually start talking about the collab. You fix your earring for no real reason, just to give yourself something to do.  

“So, I’ve received the forms you completed – thank you for doing that, by the way – and I was wondering if you have any questions for me about them?” 

You pause before you answer. Now’s the time to ask, and with the right person, too. Humming to fill the silence, you think about a good question to ask first. 

Hongjoong picks up his phone when it starts vibrating incessantly, and looks at the screen for only a few seconds before placing it face down on his desk. Someone must be trying to get in touch with him, but he doesn’t bother with replying right now. You know it must be important, whatever it is, so you appreciate him keeping you the center of his attention right now. 

“I guess I’ve been wondering about… like… if I check off certain boxes will we do all of that? Or…?” 

Very eloquent. 

Luckily, he doesn’t seem to think anything of it. “Oh, no, no. Usually what happens is we take a look at it, figure out which ones would work best together and with you and San, and take it from there. It’s just to see what you’re comfortable with and to see which direction you want this collab to go.” 

That makes sense. And now that you think about it, what if someone puts a ‘hard yes’ next to something that San would check off as a ‘hard no’, obviously they wouldn’t do it. It’s a mutual agreement. They find the things that match between you two and take it from there. 

“Actually,” Hongjoong says with a small grin, still scrolling through the forms on his computer. “You two are pretty similar. It wasn’t hard to match up.” 

You hear it but your brain doesn’t process what it means yet. 

“Oh, really?” You say, not knowing how else to respond. 

Hongjoong just hums, nodding once. He pushes his glasses up again before turning back to you. 

“Regardless of that, though, I wanted to also let you know that if at any point during the shoot you feel uncomfortable and want to leave, you can, and you will be paid in full, no questions asked. Obviously though, if you leave before, or if you don’t show up at all, we can’t really do anything to pay you. We have this in place because we don’t want you to feel trapped once the scene starts. Does that make sense?” 

You nod quickly, “Yes, it does.” 

“Perfect,” he says. “So, with your schedule that you sent me, if you’re okay with it, we can set the date relatively soon. Is this coming Friday, at six o’clock alright?” 

Friday. As in… Friday, two days from now, Friday? Your mouth dries instantly. Two days from now. Is he not busy? You assumed this wouldn’t happen for a couple of weeks, at least. A delusional voice in her head tells you that maybe he cleared his schedule to be with you sooner rather than later. Oh, sure. Yeah, right. Still, it baffles you. 

And yet you hear yourself say, “Friday’s good for me!” 

Well, now it has to be whether you’re ready or not. Your hands itch for your phone, needing to text Yeosang immediately, even though you know he’ll probably find your dilemma rather entertaining. 

Fucking hell, Y/N, the things you get yourself into. 

Hongjoong lights up, quickly typing something on his keyboard, scrunching his nose once or twice to keep his glasses from moving down again. A few more clicks of his mouse, and it’s done. 

“Okay, perfect. I’ve got you booked for six o’clock this Friday. If you could email me where you’d like our driver to pick you up, that’d be great. Otherwise, do you have any other questions, comments, or concerns for me?” 

Your lips part. Driver? Someone from Afterdark is going to bring you to the set? Your right hand grips your phone, turning it over and preparing to call Yeosang as soon as you hang up with Hongjoong. 

Fuck, okay. Sure, why not? 

“Oh, um–” you suddenly remember one thing he hasn’t mentioned at all. “Is there a script? Like, do I need to know any lines before…?” 

Hongjoong answers right away, “Ah, this shoot will be unscripted. It’ll feel more natural that way.” 

More natural. Your heart feels like a brick in your chest. To be honest though, you’re really glad there is no script. However, a rubric would be helpful as well. You nod, acknowledging that information. So it really will be like the videos you watched. That’s the experience you’ll be getting. 

“Okay, cool,” you reply, desperately needing another drink of water for your dry mouth. “Thank you.” 

Hongjoong smiles politely. “No problem. Alright, well if everything sounds good, we’ll see you on Friday! Thank you for taking the time to speak with me today.”

We. 

Again, he’s probably just talking about the company, but Yeosang’s words from yesterday are stuck in your head. Your secret delusions and Yeosang’s smart mouth are never a good mix. 

“See you Friday! Thank you.” You reply politely, the very picture of calmness and professionalism.  

And once the call disconnects, you’re slamming your laptop shut and calling Yeosang to tell him everything.   

He picks up on the third ring, yawning and obviously not fully awake just yet. You forgot he went out with his friend last night. Still, it’s definitely time for him to be awake now. 

As expected, once you rattle off every detail of the call you were just on, Yeosang laughs his ass off. 

“Oh man,” he says with an audible sigh, “you’re fucked.”      

· · ─────── ·☆· ─────── · ·

Part of you wishes that the driver will somehow get hopelessly lost on the way to the set. 

You’re sure he’s been there multiple times before, but you pray for a random dose of amnesia anyway. It’s not that you’re second-guessing the decision – not at all – you just weren’t expecting the day to come so soon. It’s crazy how forty-eight hours now seems like no time at all. You shake out your hands as you step out of the car, and look up at the building. It’s rather unassuming, blending seamlessly into the numerous ones around it. Nothing about it screams that this is where adult films are produced. Not that you really expected it to. 

The driver parks with the hazards on, and gets out as well to let you into the building via a keycard. You thank him quietly as he holds the door open for you. He must’ve told you his name, but for the life of you, you cannot remember it. He points you in the direction of the elevators, and confirms that he’ll see you later to drive you home. Then, you’re alone. He gets back into the car and drives it around the building, to an underground parking garage you assume. You take a deep breath in the lobby, finding the elevators quickly and starting towards them. Hongjoong said the shoot is on the eighth floor, so you press the ‘8’ button once in the elevator car. 

As soon as the doors shut, the silence and gravity of what you’re there to do settles in immediately. You force yourself to take a deep breath, really dragging out how long you exhale to try and ease your heart rate. The second floor comes and goes, as does the third. But the higher you climb, the tighter your throat becomes. On floor five, you think of bailing. Past the sixth floor, already almost there, Yeosang’s custom text ringtone startles you. Glad to distract yourself, you immediately read the text.  

[yeoyeo🌻]: don’t let him intimidate you, you’re the one he wanted for this 

[yeoyeo🌻]: remember he’s literally just some guy and you’ll be fine 

[yeoyeo🌻]: you’re gonna be great :)    

You can’t help but smile, and you roll your shoulders back to stand taller. He’s right, as always. Choi San is many things but at the end of the day, he is just a man. You decide to view this as a very elaborate hookup rather than a career opportunity, just to calm your nervous system if anything else. 

When the elevator doors open on the eighth floor, someone is already waiting for you on the other side. 

Hongjoong. 

You don’t realize until this moment how relieved you are to see a somewhat familiar face. 

“Miss Y/N,” he greets, extending his hand out for you to shake, “it’s so nice to meet you in person.” 

You smile warmly, returning the greeting and hoping that your handshake is up to par. Before you have time to possibly overthink such a small thing, he asks if you need anything. 

“Oh, um…no, not at the moment, thank you.” 

“Of course,” he nods once. “If you do need something at any time, please let one of us know.” 

You assume that ‘one of us’ probably means the team of people you’re about to meet and be fucked in front of. Forcing another deep breath, you manage another easy smile and thank him again. 

He motions for you to follow him, and you have to look down at your feet to get them to move. You beg yourself inwardly to get a grip and soon. 

Hongjoong leads you down a long hallway, deeper into the Afterdark floorplan. You’re surprised by how nice it smells in here, like someone is burning incense somewhere. The walls are decorated with miscellaneous artworks and some awards, as well as headshots of the actors and actresses signed with them. At the end of the hallway, there are two huge double doors, and he pulls one of them open with ease, letting you walk into the gigantic room it reveals first. 

When you finally enter the large set, you can instantly feel the drastic temperature drop. Just as you had been led to believe, they must have turned down the thermostat in the room, making it several degrees colder than the early summer weather outside, and you rub your arms to try and warm them up. 

No more than five seconds after the two of you enter, Hongjoong is suddenly flanked by a young woman with a clipboard. A sticky note flutters as she keeps pace with you and him, and she mutters something to him that you can’t hear. 

“No, that’s alright,” he says quietly, “I think he’s good without her right now, but double check for me, please.” 

You keep your eyes on the floor, pretending that you didn’t hear anything, but your mind races. Who is ‘she’, you wonder? As quickly as she appeared, the assistant scurries off, past the camera and lighting crews, and over countless miscellaneous wires with practiced ease. 

While the two of you walk, you’re rather relieved that no one is staring at you as you go by. You’re just another actress to them, and right now, that’s okay with you. And luckily, the path Hongjoong is taking you on is relatively close to the perimeter of the set, so you’re not exactly the center of attention right now. A part of the wall juts out, making it look like a closet, but once he opens the door, you see it’s a dressing room. Complete with vanity lights, a full bathroom, and a brand new silk robe for you to wear on set, hanging up by the door. There’s also a small, plush couch up against the wall next to the vanity that you have a feeling you will be texting Yeosang on as soon as you’re left alone. 

“This is all yours for the day,” Hongjoong says, “someone will come around in a minute to help with hair and makeup, and then we’ll start.”

You nod, swallowing down as much of your anxiety as possible. 

“Will you, um–” you ask before you can stop yourself. Hongjoong pauses before he heads out, waiting expectantly for you to finish your question. “Are you gonna be on set the whole time?” 

His expression changes into something akin to surprise. Obviously, he wasn’t expecting you to ask anything about himself. He doesn’t answer straight away, taking a moment to try and understand why you’re asking that. You can almost see the professional within him piecing together a corporate response in real time.

“We try to limit how many people are in the room to those who are absolutely necessary. I usually stay close in case someone needs me. Why?” 

You wave your hand, trying to brush everything off. “No, I was just wondering. Nevermind. Thank you!” 

Hongjoong looks like he’s about to say something, but ultimately leaves you alone, gently closing the door behind him. 

As soon as it clicks shut, you’re moving to sit on the couch, ready to call Yeosang, but you stop yourself at the last minute. You’re acting crazy, you do realize that. And you have a sneaking suspicion he’ll tell you the exact same thing. 

Instead, to satiate your need to call him, you reread his last three texts of encouragement. 

Lock in. Remember who the hell you are. Now. 

You put on some ego-boosting music so you’re not just getting ready in silence, and quickly undress before hair and makeup arrive. Folded neatly on the vanity, is your outfit for the scene. A tight, cropped black lace cami, and a plaid mini skirt that leaves nothing to the imagination. 

No panties anywhere in sight. No bra, either. Total and easy access. 

Your lower stomach starts to heat up, already envisioning how San might go about undressing you. From what you’ve seen, rarely does he let girls undress themselves. No, he wants to be the one to do it. Like he’s unwrapping a present, just for him.  

After you throw your hoodie onto the couch with the rest of your pile of clothes, you turn back to the vanity, noticing a small army of mini water bottles lined up and waiting for you if need be. You’re almost positive that if you look in the vanity drawer, you’ll find snacks as well. Maybe you can get used to this. But you’ll wait to give your final verdict after the job you came here to do is done. It’s best to wait. 

You’re only waiting for a minute or two before there’s a light knock on the door. Two women wearing face masks enter the dressing room, bowing to you and introducing themselves. You try to remember their names – Youngmi, you think is the makeup artist, and Rina, the hair stylist – but your brain is elsewhere, working double overtime to try to calm you down. Luckily, the Britney Spears song in the background is doing a lot of the heavy lifting. Youngmi and Rina are quick, and good at what they do. Rina makes you laugh by scrunching her nose and singing along to the song as she brushes through your hair. Youngmi only rolls her eyes at her colleague, but it’s all in good fun. 

By the time they’re done, you no longer feel like the scared outsider that doesn’t look the part. They made you even more beautiful. 

There she is, you think as you admire yourself in the mirror. 

You sigh in relief, feeling much more confident than before. And not only that, you feel ready. It’s not the easiest thing to turn your nervousness into excitement, but somehow, this time, you manage to do it. So many girls would kill to be in your shoes right now – or, in your skirt. You had kicked your shoes off next to the couch. 

You make sure to thank Youngmi and Rina before they bring you out, not knowing if you’ll have a chance once you’re on set. With one more spritz of your perfume that you brought with you from home, and a last minute decision to bring the robe out with you, you finally follow them out towards the set. Just mere feet from where you’ll be… ‘performing’. 

· · ─────── ·☆· ─────── · ·

As you’re walking and looking around, you start to wonder if San makes it a point to surround himself with equally beautiful people. Or maybe it’s a company requirement. 

Sure, maybe Hongjoong, Youngmi, and Rina are just coincidences, but even the camera and lighting crew are arguably just as pretty. Speaking of Hongjoong, you look around, noting that he isn’t anywhere to be found at the moment. He’s probably with his talent right now. 

When you’re introduced to the director, you almost say something about it. Everyone in this room is attractive. Conventionally, unconventionally, and everything in between. 

“Hello Ms. Y/L/N, I’m Choi Jongho, I’ll be directing you two today.” He introduces himself, bowing politely and shaking your hand. 

You bow your head and reply, “Hi, it’s nice to meet you.” 

He offers you a chair to sit in while everyone waits for San to come out, and you take it gratefully. You don’t know how long he’ll be. Youngmi and Rina excuse themselves, heading off in the other direction together, walking with purpose. You drape your robe across the back of it, unsure if you’re supposed to give it to someone or take it with you onto the set. 

“Would you like anything to drink, Ms. Y/L/N?” The director asks, noticing that you don’t have anything with you ready for any breaks. 

Director Choi only refers to you as “Ms. Y/L/N.” Very professional, cordial even. Makes you feel like more than an object his star is about to fuck on screen. You’re being treated with real respect, which is a pleasant surprise in comparison to what you had expected from the porn industry. 

You look around yourself, only just now realizing you didn’t take one of those mini water bottles from your dressing room like you originally planned. 

“A water, please–” you start to say. As soon as the last syllable of ‘water’ is spoken, an assistant hands you one. You didn’t even see him standing next to you, much less holding a bottle. Then again, you aren’t really paying attention to whether or not people are carrying water bottles or not right now. Damn.   

You try to warm up your arms by rubbing them, now that you’re virtually wearing next to nothing in this arctic-like room. Only a few moments later, a blanket is handed over to you wordlessly by another assistant, a quick bow following the action. You tilt your head down as a responding bow, shocked. You didn’t even have to say anything. 

Is this what San is used to? Everything given to him at once, on a silver platter with no questions asked? You imagine every single thing handed to him accompanied by hopeful, round eyes looking at him for his approval, only to be ignored or thanked by a small nod. You’re so used to doing everything yourself, this type of treatment makes you feel… stuck up – and every fiber of your being screams at you to make sure none of the staff think that of you. 

“San will be out in just a moment,” Director Choi says, but his heart isn't in it. He checks his watch and glances towards San's dressing room with nearly well-concealed impatience. It is rather late in the day, and you only just now think about the possibility that they may have been here since early morning. Maybe even shooting San with someone else. It’s entirely possible. You can imagine they all just want to get this last one done and go home. None of them would ever let that show, though. No, you have to admit everyone here is quite professional. 

Your hands absentmindedly twirl a strand of hair around your finger as you zone out. At least for now, you can zone out with a blanket wrapped around you. 

The air shifts just moments later.

It’s like a sudden pressure drop where everything goes still for only a second. That one second feels like a lifetime as you turn your head to see what’s going on. Though, in your heart you know exactly what it is without needing to look – it’s the arrival of the main attraction. 

From where you are, leaned back in your chair, you can’t see him too well. He’s surrounded by a team that moves with him like a clump of cells, or maybe in this case, like sheep in a herd. Finishing touchups by Youngmi and Rina, an assistant by his side carrying a medium-sized leather bag and holding his coffee cup when San hands it to him, and other miscellaneous characters that float around the star. Everyone wants to be near him in some way. 

Hongjoong stays at the back of it all, looking down at his phone as he walks. 

The team finally disperses one by one, revealing more of Choi San to your eyes. 

When San finally gets close enough to you, whatever air in your lungs is promptly sucker-punched out of you at the sight of his refreshing beauty. It’s even more pronounced in real life. You’re not entirely sure how to greet him, or what he’s used to. But you remember Yeosang’s encouragement again: He’s just a guy. Don’t let him intimidate you. You’re gonna be great. 

He’s just a guy. You’ve dealt with those before. It’s just that this guy in particular is crafted like an apology for creating men in the first place. And a couple of days ago, you were watching him make a girl cry on a bed that looks quite similar to the one on set right now. 

You stand up, smoothing down your skirt and standing still, hands clasped in front of you. 

“Hey Jongho, sorry we’re late,” Hongjoong calls over, pocketing his phone. He side-eyes San, who bows his head in apology as he walks.  

The director waves him off, clearly used to his tardiness and the apologies that follow. “It’s alright,” he says, “you’re actually earlier than we thought you’d be.”   

“We need to go over the rules with her,” San says once he’s close enough to you and the director, sounding tired. You wonder if he just woke up. He rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt as he speaks, and catches you looking. You don’t see it when you quickly avert your eyes, but his whole demeanor changes. No longer lethargic, he becomes awake and alert at the sight of you. 

Director Choi nods and grabs a clipboard from his own director’s chair. You nervously roll your ankle, hearing it crack quietly in the interim.  

“Right, number one rule is consent. If at any time you want to stop, just say the word. No questions asked. Second rule is to keep all details of this shoot private, including any conversations with each other,” At this, Director Choi looks up at you. “Third rule is health and safety, but Hongjoong said you covered that with him, and when you sent in the form,” Again, his eyes flick up from the clipboard to glance at you. “Fourth is to be respectful at all times – there’s no room for ego here. And lastly, don’t look at the camera unless told to, otherwise keep the illusion.” 

You go over each rule in your head before you forget. Consent, confidentiality, feel safe, be respectful, and don’t look at the camera. Simple enough. You keep your chin up, and shoulders back. You force that annoying inner voice of self-doubt to mumble the lyrics of the Britney song from earlier. 

“Follow these, and we’ll have a great shoot day. We should be ready to go in just a few minutes.” Director Choi offers both of you a quick smile before he turns on his heel and walks towards the cameraman, getting everything finalized and ready to shoot. Your heart pounds underneath the robe. Hongjoong steps closer to San, muttering something to him before walking back towards the dressing room. 

You’re just about to walk over to the set to get used to it and be ready to go whenever they are, when San steps right in front of you, effectively blocking the way.  

Out of the blue, he crowds your personal space, and you have to really dig deep to make yourself stay put. Right where you stand. Don’t be intimidated. At the end of the day, you’re both here to do the same job, and both of you are successful in your own rights. He’s just a man, you remind yourself again. 

San towers over you, his shirt opened just enough for you to see his perfectly toned and tan chest right in your face. You keep eye contact, even though all you want to do is look away. It’s much easier to be confident and independent on your own turf, but here on his, it’s more of a challenge. Still, you stand your ground. You have to if he’s going to keep sizing you up. He has been since he walked out here.  

“You didn’t cum,” he says matter-of-factly. 

… 

Pardon? Did you hear him right? What an odd opening line to say to someone you’re meeting for the first time. 

Your lips part and eyebrows furrow, rather startled. “I’m sorry?” 

There’s no way you heard him correctly.  

“Your last liveshow,” he shrugs. “Am I right?” 

Well… yes, but– how did–? 

Is this how he starts all of his conversations? With a personal accusation? 

“That’s alright. We all do it sometimes,” he shrugs again. He leans down so his mouth is next to your ear and lowers his voice. “You’re not gonna fake it with me, though,” he says, and the terrifying thing is that he sounds genuine. It’s not unfounded cockiness or meaningless bravado. He means what he says in all seriousness. He says it like you shouldn’t worry about it. Like it’s a promise. 

And you exhibit monumental self-control to not clench your thighs together at this moment. 

Your mind races at a million miles a minute. That, you didn’t expect. Isn’t that all that porn is? Fake, overblown orgasms for the girls and endless, guaranteed pleasure regardless for the men? You’re starting to think that this may not be the case with him. You think about the videos you watched as part of your ‘research’, and a bolt of electricity zips up your spine. You never doubted that he made his costars feel good, but you know full well that a lot of porn actresses pretend that they’ve cum with their scene partner. But with him, now you know: all of the girls weren’t acting. In fact, you really doubt that they needed to fake just how good he made them feel. The last video you watched of him comes back to mind… you wonder if he’ll make you scream like that too.

Unsure of how to respond to that, you just take a small step backwards to put some distance between you two. Room to think and process if possible. But he’s relentless, and he seems to like getting up in people’s space. A mischievous glint in his eye tells you that he’s enjoying this particular encounter especially. He’s definitely the type of guy that finds it fun to make girls flustered or nervous. 

You swallow hard. 

“You sound rather confident,” you note, still trying your best to hold eye contact with him. To not back down or seem weak. You’re sure it’s not working. You just refuse to melt all over him, or suck up to him. Especially not when he’s the one who asked you here.  

Surprisingly, he smirks. “Shouldn’t I be? I’ve done my research, I know you probably have done yours as well.” 

So you were right. Yeosang, too. San has seen your content before. And not only has he seen your previous works, he was right there with you, watching your last live. Your speculation sounds a lot like confirmation now. 

“Does that make you nervous, kitten?” He whispers, tilting his head slightly to the side like he’s about to kiss you. He could if he just leaned forward a couple more inches. 

A little, you admit to yourself. Your heart hammers against your chest like it’s trying to push you forward, to get closer to him. At this proximity, you can easily smell his cologne and dammit, somehow it makes him even more attractive. You’re almost getting annoyed with him now. Surely there should be at least one flaw to him, something that makes him human like the rest of the world. 

“No,” you lie, “I’m fine.” Arms crossed. Eyes up. 

San laughs lightly, and his smile instantly becomes the most attractive thing about him so far, even if it’s at your own expense. 

“If you say so,” he shrugs again. 

He doesn’t move away from you, though. Not right away. His gaze lingers on your lips for a fleeting moment, which gives you just enough time to come up with a question of your own. 

“So, you’re a fan of mine?” 

At that, he pauses. But, he doesn’t shy away from it. 

“Yeah,” he says, owning up to it immediately. He straightens back up as you nod, taking in the information. “Have been for a while now. I saw that other collab you did with that guy, it was really fuckin’ hot.” 

You make a mental note to let Yeosang know he was right about that, as well. To be honest, you weren’t expecting the compliment.  

“I’m– glad you liked it,” you say, clearing your throat in the middle of the sentence. You’re doing pretty well on the outside despite your nervousness beginning to rise again on the inside. San studies you once more, like he’s searching for something on you that only he can see. You step back again and turn your face away from him as you take a sip from your water bottle, taking your time to screw the cap back on. 

“Mm… you’re even prettier in real life,” he says, so casually it almost doesn’t register. 

You nearly swallow wrong, just barely avoiding choking on the small amount of water still left in your mouth. Luckily, Director Choi calls over to you two to start making your way onto set. 

The final few minutes begin to tick down.  

You don’t attempt to hide the deep breath you take, but you do try to not make it very noticeable. Placing the water bottle onto the chair you were just in, you clear your throat again. 

“Any final advice or warnings for me before we start?” You ask, keeping your voice casual and light. It’s a subtle dig to him, but you mean no malice behind the words. Fortunately, he picks up on it. 

“Oh, tons,” he grins, keeping pace with you onto the set. It’s almost easy to forget the cameras.  

You steal a glance at him as you walk, the floor bitterly cold beneath your feet. With each step the bed gets closer and closer. Now finally getting a chance to see the set in detail, you’re pretty impressed. It’s a pretty realistic bedroom setting, complete with shelves decorated with trinkets and records, but vague enough to have no specific personality. Nobody’s going to be admiring the set design when they watch this. Still, you appreciate the effort made by the production team to make it feel real. 

The lights facing you are blinding and you wince when you accidentally look right into one. Good incentive to not look that way, you suppose. 

San sits on the edge of the bed. “You get used to it,” he says, nodding towards the lights. 

You nod as well, placing a hand above your heart, willing it to stop racing. 

Noticing this, San takes your hand and guides you to sit down next to him. You do feel a bit better now that you’re sitting. You keep your eyes down to avoid burning your retinas, and turn your head slightly towards him. He shifts a little closer, positioning his body so he’s facing you. 

“Nervous?” He asks rhetorically, knowing full well that you are. He’s still holding your hand, playing with each of your fingers one by one. 

“Obvious?” You reply, managing to laugh at yourself, despite your nerves. 

San grins, his eyes turning into crescents, and that dimple in his cheek reappearing. “Only a little bit. But, I’ve seen worse.” 

You hum in response. Being reminded of his experience, leaps and bounds ahead of yours, does nothing to help your anxiety. You just hope you can live up to the fantasy version of your own self. That’s the version of you he invited. 

Where’s Britney when you need her?  

You push your hair back, a minute attempt to self-soothe in some way. You only realize halfway through the action that Rina probably just clutched her pearls somewhere past the lights, cursing you for messing up her work. Oh, well. According to what you’ve seen and the information you’ve gathered, your hair’s gonna be plenty messed up anyway. 

The room is starting to become a lot less crowded. Just like Hongjoong had said, only the essential people stay on set to make sure everything goes smoothly and safely. Everyone else becomes fading background noise, filtering out into the hallway you first came in from. 

But less distractions means you notice the man right next to you even more. 

You can feel San’s eyes on you. 

It’s not an uncomfortable feeling, quite the opposite actually. The weight of it is light, soft around the edges as he appreciates how he managed to practically will you onto this set with him. You’d been sure you may be insecure around him because of his almost unnatural beauty, but… actually, having his eyes on you right now makes you a bit more confident. He’s not looking at anyone else but you. Not just looking, but admiring. 

His gaze drifts down, greedily drinking in the sight of your collarbone and legs – the only skin you’re revealing at the moment. If the crew would just hurry up, he’ll be able to see more. 

Fortunately, he’s never been one to wait to get what he wants. Especially not in this industry. And right now, he wants you. 

“I meant it, by the way,” he says quietly, “you’re beautiful.” 

Without any water to choke on, or an interruption from the director, you simply look up at him, finally meeting his eyes. There’s no trace of irony anywhere. Not in what he said, and not hidden somewhere within his features. The genuinity, and the doubling-down of the compliment takes you aback. 

“Thank you… you’re quite beautiful yourself.” You compliment him back, shifting how you’re sitting to face him as well. 

By now, your knee is touching his. Even this small amount of contact between you makes your shoulders tense again. You’re not sure why, but you just want to melt into him already. Perhaps due to the undeniable attraction you feel towards him. 

Maybe it’s the insane sexual tension between you both, that very well could be the root cause as well. 

You remember how real his scenes look… this must be how the chemistry is kindled. Starting before the cameras capture anything, it makes it all seem less like a show. And you know what? Until the director yells ‘cut’, you’re more than willing to match that energy.

His hand moves from yours to rest on your thigh, slowly, like he’s silently asking for permission to continue. When you don’t flinch or push him away, he hikes up your skirt just an inch or two higher, exposing more of your skin. The light ghost of his touch makes you freeze in place. It’s already dizzying enough to have him in such close proximity, and now adding in the electricity of his touch, it’s a whole other level. And this, you assume, is just the warmup. Getting you used to the feeling of his hands on you. It’s nice that it doesn’t feel wrong. 

The lighting crew dims one of the lights and one of them loudly asks the director if it looks good on camera. Distracted, you turn back to look their way again, but San gently cups your face with his hand, making you face him instead. 

He hums, looking down between your still-clothed bodies. His other hand dips under the hem of your skirt, and your breath hitches. Worrying too much about the crew still, you look back to see if this is alright to do before the cameras start rolling. 

“Don’t look at the camera, kitten,” San purrs, “I believe that was rule number five.” 

“Oh, shut up,” you mumble without any real bite to your words. 

That smile of his returns, and the energy between you becomes even more charged. The moment right before someone gives in after holding back for too long. 

San never looks anywhere else, entirely focused on you. It doesn't matter to him that there’s about twenty people still in the same room, all witnessing this ‘warm-up’ unfold. It barely fazes him. He’s experienced in this setting, way more used to it than you are. You just have to roll with it. 

His hand on your face drops back down to the mattress as his wrist turns, and you inhale sharply when he lightly drags his fingers through your wet folds. He hums again, clearly satisfied. 

“What’s got you this wet already, kitten?” 

Your lips part to answer, but he finds your clit before you can speak. This time, you gasp quietly before you can stop yourself. Once again, you glance over at the crew, wondering if anyone is watching the two of you. You can’t see very well because of the lights and the various equipment in the way, but several of the crew and team are. 

San smirks, pressing the pads of his fingers harder against your clit. “You like the attention?” He asks, following your gaze. “It’s different from your little camshow isn’t it? Now the audience is only a few feet away…” 

His fingers begin to move in small circles, occasionally dipping further down to collect your wetness before bringing it back up to your clit. 

“San–” you breathe, catching his wrist in a semi-firm grip. Not to move it away, but just to hold onto something. Jesus, the shoot hasn’t even officially started yet, but you’re about to beg them to hurry up so it can. 

San just moves closer to you, his eyes greedily drinking in your cute expression. His voice is quieter, so only you can hear him. “Already thought about all the ways I’m gonna make this pretty cunt cum for me. ‘M gonna make you feel so good.” 

Another promise. 

A shiver runs down your spine, and that’s the moment the crew decides that they’re ready to shoot. 

San pulls away like nothing happened, even smoothing down your skirt for you. You force yourself to breathe through your nose, steadying your pulse. You quickly look down, checking to see if your top is still on straight.  

Director Choi walks up to you both for final notes. “Alright, no script so we’re mostly gonna follow your lead, just let us know when one of you needs a quick break. All three cameras are going to be rolling, and one handheld. You remember all the rules?” He looks over to you. 

You nod quickly, unable to meet his eye right now. The back of your hand lifts to your cheek to check how hot it’s gotten – as if you need additional confirmation. You hope you didn’t smudge your makeup or wipe some of it off by accident, but you imagine that if it shows up on camera, they’ll stop to fix it. 

“Okay, then we’re ready to go.” 

San thanks him as he walks off, turning his attention back onto you. Your gaze has dropped down to your lap, breaths kind of erratic from the little show you and him just put on, and from nerves. But you manage to pull yourself together, externally at least. All you really have to do now is look pretty for the camera. You can do that. Except for the live audience, this isn’t much different to a camshow, really. 

And aren’t you here for your fans anyway? Sure, you also wanted the opportunity and experience, but it’s also for your fans. The ones who supported you enough to even get noticed by Afterdark and San in the first place. You imagine they’ll make up at least half of the view count whenever this video drops. You’re performing for them. Not for the strangers in the room. 

Once that clicks for you, all your anxiety melts away, freeing you to finally just… enjoy this. Why not? You deserve it. 

Plus, you’re quite eager to pick up right where you and San left off just moments ago – and it seems that San is too. 

His gaze becomes heavier, darker as he shifts into his on-screen persona. 

“C’mere, kitten, want you on my lap to start.” He says, moving back on the bed a little more and gently pulling you towards him. 

You straddle his legs, slow to sit down fully. Now slightly above and closer than before, you can’t look anywhere else but at him. His hands slowly trail up your thighs again, watching you the whole time. You stop breathing when his fingertips tease the hem of your skirt again. He can probably feel through those dress pants he’s in how wet you are. Equally though, you can feel how hard he’s getting. 

Subtly, you grind your hips down onto him. The immediate pleasure of the friction against your bare pussy makes your eyes roll back. One of his hands sneaks to your hip, gripping it tightly, and you meet his eyes again. 

“It’s just you and me,” he says quietly, breath fanning across your cheek. 

You nod, eyes fluttering closed again as you grind into him once more. “Okay…” 

Through your pleasurable hazy fog, you faintly hear someone yell, ‘Action!’. 

And San stops holding back. 

The hand on your hip pushes you back and pulls you in, encouraging you to keep grinding on him – and to not stop anytime soon. His other hand moves to your hair, keeping your face close to his as he finally kisses you. His lips are pleasantly soft, and he tastes like peppermint. You hope you do too, you probably brushed your teeth at least four times before the driver showed up outside your apartment building. San seems to have no complaints as he moans quietly, his hand tightens in your hair. 

Your whole body feels electric, every touch amplified by a thousand. He makes out with you slow and deep, savouring the taste of you, and groans into your mouth with each roll of your hips. 

San tilts your chin up to kiss your neck, hiding his face from the camera. “Never answered my question,” he whispers, barely audible so his voice doesn’t get picked up by any of the overhead microphones. 

You disguise your response as a moan, “Hm?” 

He licks a small stripe up your neck, right up to your ear and looks down between you. You follow his gaze, only to find a wet patch staining his pants already. 

Ah. 

His question from mere minutes ago: What’s got you this wet already? 

“So wet for me,” he murmurs, a bit louder. It’s alright if the microphones pick that up. “Wonder why…” 

It’s the knowing smirk that does it. You move to undress him first, intriguing him. He didn’t expect you to be so bold right out of the gate. But, you have an on-screen persona of your own. Now both of your characters are out to play. 

In your dwindling patience, you come close to just ripping the shirt off when you fumble with one of the buttons. San finds your lips again as you push the offending fabric off of him, eager to explore his newly exposed body. But you’re next. 

Both of his hands lift up your shirt until it comes off over your head, forcing you two to break apart for a moment. Neither of you wait to make up for that lost time. You drape your arms around his shoulders, one of your hands lightly tugging at the roots of his hair. At first, your whole body erupts in goosebumps from the cold air now hitting your upper body as well, and not just your arms, but you can’t blame your reaction entirely on the temperature. 

San must notice how your shoulders hunch a little and how you press further into him, because he is quick to warm you up. 

One arm around your waist, he pulls you closer, chests touching. The first brush of your peaked nipples against his skin makes you gasp into his mouth. He nips at your bottom lip, distracting you while his hand moves from the back of your head, down to one of your breasts. His thumb flicks over the sensitive bud there and you have to duck your head down to catch your breath for a second. You grind down onto him again, adding to your arousal tenfold. 

Refusing to prolong this any longer, San suddenly flips you onto the bed, underneath him. His hand returns between your legs, fingers shallowly dipping into your entrance and circling your clit. He keeps just out of your reach, his lips so frustratingly close to yours. You glance down to watch him. The visual of his hand disappearing underneath your skirt, the veins in his arm beginning to rise and pop, and the heat of his body against yours is all starting to add up. 

You tug at your own skirt, looking up at him with doe eyes. He nods twice, understanding. In no time at all, your skirt is unzipped and pulled down your legs, discarded somewhere onto the floor. 

Now fully exposed, San pauses. 

The tempo of the scene slows abruptly as he takes his time to look at your body, laying so prettily beneath him. He looks at your body like he’s deciding where to start first, with too many enticing options. You drag your hands down his chest, lightly scratching him and making him shiver in the process. This, you realize, is how he makes every scene feel legit. He takes his time to admire his partner, make them feel admired and wanted. You have to admit, it does work its magic. Not just for the audience, but for you as well. 

He catches both of your wrists, bringing your hands together to kiss them both before guiding them down above your head. 

“Keep them here,” he murmurs, kissing you once more. 

You barely have time to enjoy or savor the taste of him again before he moves to kiss your neck. Eyes closing, you sigh into the feeling, wanting to commit this to memory. He doesn’t stay in one place for long, moving down to kiss your chest next. Soft, wet warmth once again wraps around your nipple and you arch your back to try and get more of it. You twist your hands in the sheets above you, keeping them anchored there just like he instructed. 

San then moves further down, ghosting his lips past your stomach. You part your legs to accommodate him, and he kneels on the floor, gently pushing your legs further apart. He drags this out, just to torture you, you think. His intentions and what he’s about to do are clear, but he’s a professional at driving his partners crazy. The kisses turn to licks, right next to your labia. So tantalizingly close. 

If your eyes were open, you’d see that he’s been watching you the entire time, trying to pace himself as best he can. You’re actually lucky there’s a job to do here because if it was just the two of you alone, he doesn’t think he’d be holding himself back from just taking what he wants. 

To him, this is all just a chance for him to prove himself to you. To him, you’re the star. And he’s going to make sure you leave this set more than satisfied. Wanting for nothing. 

But he’s not going to start until you beg him to. 

His breath fans across your wet lower lips and your hands find his hair again, trying to push his mouth where you need him. You hear him laugh, exhaling through his nose before moving your hands away. 

“Thought I told you to keep your hands up there, kitten,” he reminds you, with a slight warning edge to his voice. 

Oh, shit, you realize all too late. The last video flashes through your mind, and he feels you tense up. He kisses your hipbone to calm you down. 

“Be a good girl and keep them above your head,” he repeats his previous order. 

You nod quickly, “I’m sorry–” but he cuts you off by licking a thick wet stripe through your folds. Your breath hitches, and your hands stay cemented to the sheets, to hold on for dear life. 

When he repeats the action, the tip of his tongue flicks at your clit, making you see stars already. 

“Oh my god…” you moan, eyes fluttering shut again. 

Your hands itch to move back down to his hair, wanting to pull him closer and to push him away. You want to touch him again, but the fear of him reenacting the ‘Fantasy’ video keeps you frozen. 

As expected, his mouth is just as perfect as the rest of him. The softness of his lips against your core only stokes the dull heat in your lower stomach. He alternates between focusing more on your clit, and dipping his tongue into your entrance. The most addicting part is that he’s moaning while he eats you out, like the taste of you is getting him off. You hope he lets you return the favor. 

He readjusts his hands on your thighs when they threaten to close around his head, opting to push them back towards your chest. Your toes curl as he sucks your clit hard, and you can’t help the high-pitched sound that escapes your mouth. He does it again, and again, getting you louder each time. 

“Look at me, baby,” he breathes, his nose brushing up against your sensitive clit as he speaks. 

You whimper as you lift your head up, resting on your elbows to not strain your neck. He meets your eyes for just a second before shoving his tongue into your hole, rubbing his nose against your clit again. You cry out, throwing your head back as the pleasure increases and squirm in his strong grip. Legs shaking and breath uneven, it’s clear that you’re close. Now you’ll get to see what he has planned for you. The two boxes you checked off, ‘Rough’, and ‘Gentle’ come back to haunt you. 

A moan cuts you off as you try to warn him that you’re close, but he can tell without needing to hear you say it. He’s been the cause of enough female orgasms to see the warning signs of one approaching. Two of his fingers suddenly dip into you as he sucks on your clit, hooking deep inside and prodding your g-spot over and over again. 

His voice is rough and gravelly against your pussy, “Cum for me, baby. Wanna taste it.” 

A bolt of electricity runs through you as you cum, shaking and moaning while it gradually subsides. The heat in your lower stomach cools off but stays simmering now, waiting to be rekindled again. You whimper, raising your head back up to look at him. He’s in his own world between your legs, gently licking your pussy and your inner thighs clean. Your core clenches around his fingers when he slowly starts to drag them out, and he smirks. He lowers your legs back down, kissing your knee and doing a quick check to make sure you’re okay to continue. 

You answer that check by sitting up and pulling him towards you, kissing him even more hungrily than before. He hasn’t even wiped his mouth yet, but you don’t care. Without breaking the kiss, he follows you back down onto the bed, sucking on your tongue and wrapping a hand around your throat. Not tight enough to restrict airflow, but just enough to make your head feel light. He grinds his still-clothed erection into you, and the friction makes your head spin. You don’t know if you’re allowed to move your hands or not, but you just want to touch him so badly. You want to grip his length, make him feel just as good, taste him too. 

For now, you just roll your hips up into his, moaning into his mouth. 

“Want it…want you,” you mumble, parting from his lips for just a second to tell him that. 

San hums, lazily kissing your jaw. “What do you want, kitten? Be specific.” 

You groan inwardly, but you know he has to prolong this a little. Damn… for a while, you forgot about the reason you’re currently underneath him. You sneak a glance over to your left, seeing where the set ceiling abruptly stops and opens up to the industrial interior of the Afterdark building. He notices your focus straying, and he’s quick to act. 

“Tell me,” San redirects you, blocking your view by kissing the left side of your neck and distracting you from everything else by keeping his hard-on pressed right up against your bare pussy. His voice is firmer. A small warning and reminder of rule number five. 

You take a deep breath before you voice what you want, “Wanna suck your cock… please, sir.” 

It’s the ‘sir’ that nearly kills him. You really have done your research, haven’t you? You know that’s what he likes to be called, especially when his scene partners are feeling extra submissive to him. Are you feeling that way already? Maybe you just really want to do this for him. San studies you for a second, confirming the latter. He can see how much you actually mean it by the way you look up at him, pleading with your eyes. 

And who is he to deny you? Especially when you ask so nicely. Plus, he’s been wanting to feel your mouth wrap around his cock since he watched your livestream. 

“Yeah?” He asks, biting the space where your neck meets your shoulder and pressing up against you again. 

You give him your best doe-eyed look, really tapping into your innocent act. “Yes, sir.” 

San helps you sit upright again and stands at the foot of the bed, starting to undo his belt. Wanting to be an active participant, you lean forward, dragging your lips down and across his abs, occasionally licking at his soft, honeyed skin. His belt hits the floor, and your hands are quick to do the rest. It’s a little hard to get the zipper down, but you manage it, successfully removing his pants. You’re just about to deal with his underwear next, but he grabs your wrist, pulling you towards him. You stumble a little as you find your footing on the floor, and let him lead you over to a chair against the set wall. It’s a better angle for the cameras, you assume. For him, he just wants to watch you do this properly. He wants nothing to obstruct his view, or the camera’s. 

San pushes his hair back as you drag the final piece of clothing away from his body. You avert your eyes until the very last second, tossing the garment off to the side to join the sad little pile of discarded clothes on the floor. Now you take your time, pressing a kiss to his knee, slowly rising up onto yours the further up you move. You hear his breath shift, and you finally glance up to face his cock. 

Somehow, it’s bigger than it looks on camera. 

You have no idea how that’s possible – you know about the fish eye lenses and tricks the porn industry will use to make someone’s dick look bigger than it is, but right now, you’re presented with the exact opposite. It’s larger in real life. This, you were not expecting, but it is such a pleasant and welcome surprise. And of course, it’s just as pretty as the rest of him.  

Both of these things combined only make you want to put your mouth on it even more. 

When you delicately wrap your hand around it, he hisses at the long-awaited contact. A hand tangles into your hair, not pulling you towards him, just resting there for now. San leans back against the chair, his toned body a feast for the cameras and for you. You remind yourself not to rush, and to savor this. 

Wanting to give him a taste of his own medicine, you tease him a little by ghosting your lips up his length, watching him shiver and bite his lip. You kiss the tip, and linger there for a second, acting like you’re about to put him in your mouth, only to move away, kissing his hipbone next and stroking him with your hand. 

His grip tightens in your hair. Knowing he wants you to hurry up, you let go of him for a moment to spit in your hand before quickly returning to it. He groans a bit louder, head falling back a little as you gently twist your wrist, squeezing at the base of his cock. 

Finally, you lick him from the base to the head before wrapping your lips around him. His other hand balls up into a fist, but that’s the only reaction he gives away for now. You relax your jaw as much as you can, trying to accommodate his size before sinking down lower. You can taste his pre-cum in the back of your throat, coating your tongue. 

If you were annoyed with his apparent perfection before, you’re pissed now. How does he also taste good too? 

As if to get back at him somehow, you wrap your lips tighter around his cock and suck hard, which earns you a choked moan from him. You hum around him, amused and pleased with yourself. His hand shakes slightly as he pushes your hair back, the other one in your hair starting to guide you even further down. The tip hits the back of your throat and you gag on it, forcing yourself to relax and remember to breathe through your nose. 

“Fuck, baby…so good,” He groans, starting to struggle to keep his eyes open. 

The visual of you choking on his cock is better than he could’ve ever imagined it to be. You don’t try to fight against him when he pushes you down or pulls you back up, simply letting him use your throat as he wishes. Even though you’re gagging and your eyes are watering, you don’t try to pull off. Not even when he shoves you down, making you fit his entire length into your throat, and holds you there for ten seconds. The longest ten seconds of your life. Your nails dig into your thighs, creating angry red crescent-shaped indents in your skin. His cock twitches in your throat and you whimper, keeping your gag reflex at bay. When the ten seconds are up, he lets you pull off of him completely to catch your breath. 

You cough into your shoulder, one of your hands wrapping around him again to make sure he still feels good. San can't help but praise you, leaning down to kiss your forehead, cupping your face with his hand to make you look at him. It’s a subtle check-in moment. Nothing between you is said out loud, but he searches your face for any signs of discomfort or stress of any kind. He’s rather relieved to find none, only your glossy eyes staring back at him, lips parted and breath heavier than before. Ready to go again or continue on. 

Whatever he wants. 

San shivers as you gently twist your wrist again, returning your lips to the head of his dick, kitten-licking the pre-cum that still leaks out there. You hope he’ll cum in your mouth. A rare hope, as you’ve never quite enjoyed the taste of it before, but with his track record so far, you’re willing to bet you’ll enjoy it this time. To encourage this dream to happen, you spit onto the head of his cock twice, collecting some of it with your hand already around his length, and the rest with your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tip. 

You hear soft footsteps behind you, and naturally, your first instinct is to whip around to see who it is. Luckily, your conscience kicks in, reminding you of where you are, and you’re able to stop yourself before you can even move an inch. It’s probably one of the crew leaving the set, you figure. But it sounds close by. 

As if to prove you right, soon there’s a figure or a shadow looming just out of your peripheral vision on your left, holding something. To combat every urge within you to turn around, you close your eyes and steal another kiss from San, who lazily kisses you back. He doesn’t seem to mind that your lips are covered in spit and pre-cum. Not one bit. His groans have increased the more you stroke his cock, one of his hands grips the arm of the chair in an attempt to ground himself. Harder, faster, your wrist begins to burn from exertion, but determination keeps it going. You’ll get a damn brace if you need to. 

“God–” he grunts, looking down at your hand. 

“Want you to cum too,” you say, looking up at him, almost pleading. 

San’s eyes squeeze shut for just a moment, a full body shudder wracking through him before he is able to compose himself again. 

“And where do you want me to cum, kitten?” He asks, his volume raising slightly, caressing your cheek. 

“In my mouth, sir.” You reply, also loud enough for the microphones to pick up. 

He all but shoves you down. You barely have time to make sure your teeth aren’t grazing his dick with every bob of your head as his hand returns to your hair, guiding your movements once again. This time, with just a fraction less of his notorious self control. You’re able to keep up easily, sucking harder whenever you’re closer to the head of it, and using your tongue as much as you can. 

San swears under his breath, hissing at your previously unknown skill level. It takes every ounce of composure to not fuck your throat the way he wants to. He’d be so mean to you if you’d let him. He wouldn’t have kept himself down your throat for ten measly seconds, it would’ve been until you tried to push yourself off, desperate to breathe again. That would’ve been heavenly, to feel your throat constrict around his cock, in search of air. But not for the first scene together. 

If there’s a next time, maybe that’s when he’ll let go just a little more. Show that side of him and see how you cope with it. For now though, he’s content to just enjoy the sight of you taking him in your mouth, wanting to make him cum. And you’re damn near close to achieving that. 

He ignores the cameraman standing barely two feet from you, and leans back again, relaxing his body as his dick twitches incessantly in your mouth. Every time his tip hits the back of your throat, sparks of electricity shoot up his spine. 

“Fuck… ah, fuck, I’m gonna cum… mmf–” San moans, head tilting back against the chair. 

You don’t change anything about what you’re doing, just continuing until finally, he releases into your mouth. Just like you wanted him to. And it’s just as you predicted. The taste of it makes you want him to cum in your mouth again and again, surprisingly pleasant. Slightly bitter, yes, but not overly so. You swallow around him, not pulling off just yet. You won’t until you suck him dry, until he pushes you off from overstimulation. Maybe subconsciously, it’s because you know he loves to overstimulate his scene partners – a subtle payback for all of them. You try to hide your grin as you finally release him. Not a single drop wasted. You swallowed everything. 

San looks down at you through half-lidded eyes, fighting to keep his chest rising and falling in a steadier rhythm. You lick your lips just for good measure, and he snaps. 

His hands return to your face and the back of your head, pulling you towards him to kiss you deeply. You moan into his mouth as his tongue slips into yours, not caring in the slightest that can taste himself. As you straighten up on your knees, you can feel how wet you still are, and you can’t help but be a little surprised. You’ve never gotten wet from sucking dick before. If he finds out, it’ll go right to his ego, no doubt. 

But before he can, there’s an abrupt, loud clacking sound to your left, and at first, you think someone must have dropped something. San makes a quiet, irritated sound before pulling away, glancing towards the director. The cameraman right next to you moves away, going back over towards the others and adjusting something on his camera. You feel slow to catch up on what’s happening, looking back up at San for help. 

“We’re breaking for a second,” he explains, still out of breath. 

Ah. 

“Are you alright?” You ask him, without thinking. You’re not even sure why you asked that. 

San blinks, processing your question as well before nodding once, “Yeah… yeah, I’m good.” 

There’s a fleeting moment between you that you can’t describe. Something deeper than the scene now that you’re out of it. It’s the way he’s looking at you, void of any facade or persona meant for the cameras. Almost like he’s curious about something. 

No one ever really asks him if he’s alright. 

Just as quickly as the moment appears, it’s gone. You hear a flurry of movement and murmured conversations on your left as you sink back onto your heels, processing everything. Your eyes close as you try to focus on your breathing now that nothing is blocking your throat, deep inhales and slow exhales.  

“You okay?” San asks as well, eyebrows furrowing in what appears to be genuine concern. 

“‘M okay… honest.” You nod as you speak to emphasize that you’re truly alright. One more prolonged exhale, and you roll your shoulders back, heart-rate decelerating back to its default speed. One of your hands reaches up to massage your aching jaw. 

Opening your eyes again, you accidentally make eye contact directly to his cock, still right in front of your face. It’s laying against his stomach, still slightly twitching, but… not softening. At least not as much as you’d expect it to. Surely, he can’t still be hard after coming. However, at this point, you wouldn’t put it past him to have a practically nonexistent refractory period. Might as well tack it onto the list of things he has been blessed with in life. 

San runs a hand through his hair, looking over towards someone who must be talking to him. You watch his eyes follow them until you see for yourself who it is – one of the assistants that had been in his little circle when he first walked out of his dressing room. He hands him a robe, and quickly walks off. You feel a small nudge at your shoulder and find one of the other assistants – the one that had handed you the blanket earlier – extending a robe towards you. You take it gladly, your body heat crashing down again now that nothing is happening, and the frigid air conditioning reminding you why you asked for a blanket in the first place. He also gives you a water bottle with a straw poked through the plastic cap, and you drink it down gratefully. 

Director Choi calls over Youngmi and Rina, and they’re quickly by your side, touching up your hair and makeup. You scoot back a little on the floor, giving San some space as his own team descends around him. Still, through the quiet rush of activity separating the two of you, your eyes stay glued to him. 

Once the four hair and makeup girls leave, you hear Hongjoong from somewhere behind you. You both look towards his voice, standing near the director. A young woman you haven’t seen milling around the set before stands right next to him, also in a short silk robe almost identical to yours from what you can see of it past the lights. Your chest burns. She’s gorgeous, and seems to only get prettier the more you look at her. She looks between Hongjoong and San expectantly, as if waiting for a regular cue. Totally relaxed. You look back down at your hands in your lap, toying with the hem of your robe. It’s obvious what she’s there for. You wonder if she’s been watching the whole time as well. 

But San is quick to rid you of any worries. 

Actually, he seems a little annoyed as he waves Hongjoong and the woman off, before turning his attention back to you. He helps you stand up, slowly to ensure you won’t get dizzy, and leads you back over to sit on the foot of the bed. Back where you started, in your own little bubble together in front of the lights and the cameras.  

Once settled again, San tilts your head up, his pointer finger under your chin, and holds it there, effectively disrupting your train of thought. He can almost see the self-doubt threatening to cloud your mind, even if you try to hide it behind your on-camera mask. He simply won’t have it. His other hand cups your cheek, making sure you don’t try to look anywhere but at him right now. 

“‘M still hard for you, kitten,” he says quietly, just for you. He moves closer, his thumb running over your bottom lip. “Made me feel so fucking good… doing so well…” 

You can’t help but blush at his praise. He’s so attentive, it’s a little shocking. You expected him to be, due to the videos you watched, but off-camera as well? 

To thank him, you wrap your lips around his thumb, sucking on it lightly, maintaining eye contact with him the whole time. You want him to snap again. To just fuck you stupid already, to not wait for the production team to be ready. God, you just want to stop thinking and overthinking. You lean into the hand holding your cheek, humming at the comfort it provides. 

One of your hands wanders between you, trailing up his thigh. You want to feel it for yourself, even though the robe does little to conceal the truth in his statement. Nevertheless, your confidence is rekindled once more when you feel him through the silk, hard and ready for you. He hisses at the contact, resting his forehead against yours for a moment or two before straightening again. A low groan from him makes your thighs clench together. 

“Sorry, sir,” you whisper, grinning mischievously now that you’re the one teasing him.  

San laughs once, breathy and short. 

“You really have done your research on me, huh?” He smirks, watching you slowly move his robe aside to touch him properly. He tenses a little at the initial contact, but gradually relaxes again as his body gets used to it. 

You shrug, playing it cool. “Wanted to see what I was getting myself into,” the corners of your mouth twitch as you slowly stroke his cock, watching for his reactions. 

“And–” he clears his throat before continuing, “what do you think so far?” 

Your eyes flicker up to meet his, and you’re taken aback again by his genuineness. He’s not just asking to ask or to boost a sky-high ego, he really does want to know. Still, you want to keep him intrigued. Maybe you even want him to try and prove himself to you a bit.  

“Well… I’m still wet for you,” you admit, casting your eyes down towards your lap. “But I think I’ll give you a final verdict later.”  

San hums, remembering the taste of you, and how wet you were for him to start. His eyes trail downwards, towards your chest, which is slowly becoming more and more revealed as your robe loosens.     

“Deal,” he whispers, slowly leaning in to kiss you. 

Before he can though, you squeeze his member a little harder, your thumb circling the tip, making his mind nearly go blank. San shudders and leans back on his hands, his robe also loosening little by little, revealing his chest and the top of his abs to your hungry eyes again. He steals a quick glance over to the crew, before just taking matters into his own hands. 

As soon as his robe comes off, he tosses it in the camera’s direction. A rather obvious way of telling everyone the break is over. Director Choi quickly stands from his chair, shooing away a production assistant and waving another one over to collect the robes. You take yours off as well, tossing it onto his, and San eases you down onto your back, kissing you just as deeply as before. 

You shiver, finally underneath him once more. The promise of what’s to come thunders through your mind. He slots his knee in between your legs, keeping you open for him. You whine into his mouth when that knee raises slightly, pressing against your pussy. You can almost hear his smirk, confirming that you are indeed still wet for him. 

Well, he won’t make you wait any longer. 

And just in time too, because someone over on the left shouts, ‘Action!’. You feel kind of bad for stressing out the crew this much, but you can’t dwell on those guilty feelings when San is rubbing your clit again.

“Fuck… please…” you whimper, hips grinding up in search of something else.  

San moans, working himself up as he feels your pussy slicking all over his knee.  

“Are they gonna stop us again?” You ask, whispering in his ear. 

“They better fucking not,” San breathes, pressing one more kiss to your cheek before pushing himself up, spreading your legs further apart so he can kneel between them. 

You prop yourself up on your elbows again, intent on watching. You clench around nothing as he grips himself, angling his dick down towards your pussy. Every muscle in your body locks in anticipation and impatience. Your brain goes haywire just at the sight of his cock near where you need him most, knowing he’ll stretch you out, and knowing that you probably won’t last too long with his size. Hopefully, you won’t cum as soon as he bottoms out. 

San presses the tip to your hole, and you hold your breath. It’s so big, but you’re ready. You’re definitely wet enough to help get him inside without any help from spit or lube. Nevertheless, he spits right on your clit, pausing to make you feel it drip down through your folds. He taps the head of his cock against your clit a couple times, greedily watching your reactions. 

And much to your despair, he doesn’t push inside just yet. Instead, he drags his cock up and down your pussy. Slowly. Forcing you to feel every inch of it, just not where you need it. Your clit is so sensitive, every time he rubs up against it, you can’t help but whine pathetically. 

San hums, mocking you. “Hm? What’s wrong, kitten?” 

“Please fuck me already,” you exhale, whimpering at yet another tap of his cock against your clit. 

“Louder,” he instructs, not just to make you beg for it again, but also so the microphones pick it up. You’d forgotten all about them again, to be honest. “Ask me properly.” 

Another shiver runs through you, and you gasp when you feel the head of his cock return to your entrance. Just barely enough so you can feel it’s there. But it’s enough motivation. You spread your legs further apart to convince him, holding them up and back by hooking your arms around your knees. Fully exposed to his eyes, open and ready to be filled. 

“Please, sir, please fuck me. Want it so ba–” 

Your voice is cut off by a choked noise as he finally pushes into you. Quickly, you look down, watching him breach you. All of your air is punched out of you as he stretches you out, sinking deeper and deeper, inch by inch. He takes over the task of keeping your legs apart, and he stills for a second to give your body time to adjust to him. He’s just barely halfway in, and your brain already feels like mush. 

Maybe it’s a good thing because the same cameraman from before comes back, aiming the camera right at you two. Your body is so tense from the intrusion that you can’t look towards him, even by accident.

San swears under his breath, watching his cock disappearing into you as well. 

“So fucking tight… god, baby…” he grunts, adjusting his knees slightly closer to your ass so he can feed you more of his length. 

One of his hands tilts your chin up again, silently telling you to hold eye contact with him. His eyes flicker down only for a split second. 

Then he shoves the rest of his cock inside. 

A mix of a gasp and a yelp punches its way out of you. Your whole body is like a livewire. Alert, teetering on an electric edge. Your hands grip the sheets next to you, biting your lip. You can feel everything. Every inch, every vein dragging against your walls when he slowly pulls it back again. You both crave and dread the next time he pushes in, knowing it’s going to feel so overwhelmingly good. 

The realization hits you like a ton of bricks. You’re close to coming already. 

Wide-eyed, all you can do is stare up at him as he rolls his hips into yours. Your walls flutter around him, legs already beginning to shake. There’s no hiding it anymore. 

Amused, San leans down, pushing your legs back even more, deepening the stretch. He groans as your pussy contracts around him tight, wanting more. 

“What, kitten? Already?” San smirks, a windfall of pride rushing through him. As if he needed any more validation for how good at this he is.

Your face burns, having been found out. 

The next roll of his hips is sinfully languid, taking his time. Then, he really betrays you. One of his hands leaves the back of your thigh and he uses his thumb to rub your clit. You yelp, body buzzing from pleasure, and he takes this time to start fucking you properly, thrusting into you in a steady rhythm. 

“Mm, that’s it,” he says, twisting his wrist so he can rub your clit with two fingers instead. “Let me feel it.” 

You’re starting to think all you need in order to cum is for him to tell you to do it. Your second orgasm of the evening is a bit stronger than the first one because of the addition of penetration. It makes you feel very floaty once it hits, clenching around his cock in order to prolong it. 

Unlike last time, he gives you no recovery period. The second he sees your eyes refocus, he’s fucking into you again. Like he never stopped. Your hands grip his shoulders, knowing you’re in for it. The tags for this future video flash through your mind, overstimulation being one. You lay flat on your back now, unable to keep holding yourself up as another strong wave of pleasure crashes into you. A third orgasm building up again. 

His fingers on your clit press down harder, making tight circles over the sensitive bud. He only relents for a second, just to hook your legs over his shoulders, letting him get even deeper inside of you. Your eyes roll back for a moment, whining at the feeling. Your hands try to push at his chest, to make him stop, to make him straighten up, you’re not entirely sure yourself. 

There’s no energy behind your actions, but San still subtly checks in. “Feel good, kitten?” 

You choke on another moan, his cock getting dangerously close to hitting your g-spot. “Mm- I’m– good, feels s-so good.” 

“Yeah? You liked coming on my cock?” 

“Yes…” 

“Yes, what?” San punctuates his question by ramming into you hard, unexpectedly. 

You’re quick to correct yourself, “Y-yes, sir!”

“There you go,” he brushes some hair away from your face, “my good girl.” 

Your body melts at the praise, replaying it over and over again as the feeling builds up higher and higher. You don’t realize until San winces that your nails started to dig into his chest, leaving some red scratch marks in your wake. As soon as you see that, you instantly take your hands away, feeling so bad that you’ve hurt him unknowingly. 

But he puts them right back where they were. 

And he leans down to your neck to return the favor, biting and sucking the skin there to create dark red and purple bruises wherever he can. His thrusts become more powerful, angling down into you to make you see stars. The simmering heat in your stomach is stoked with each direct hit to your g-spot. It’s getting to be more of a challenge to breathe normally like this.

Especially as your third orgasm begins to crest. 

“‘M coming–” you warn him, but he knows already. He can feel it. 

He hovers over you, moving his hips precisely and slightly faster. He wants to watch you again. To see you fall apart for him again. Truthfully, he already feels a bit pussy-drunk. Starting to get addicted to the feeling of your warm, wet cunt wrapped so tightly around him, coming for him so prettily. And you don’t disappoint him the third time either. 

You’re loud this time, unable to control your volume. The third orgasm hits you like a truck, and it only builds higher and higher instead of gradually diminishing. You cry out, halfway through it. Something feels unfinished about it, and you’re desperate to chase it. Luckily, San knows exactly what you need. 

He quickly lowers your legs from his shoulders, jumping right into action to catch this. Your legs are held back, like the previous position they were in, and he returns his other hand to your lower stomach, pressing down hard. You can feel him moving inside of you. Your head falls back and you moan loudly, suddenly feeling everything tenfold. 

The sound is obscene, definitely pornographic. Wet, sloshing sounds, accompanied by your loud cries and moans fill the warehouse-like room of the eighth floor. His cock prods your g-spot every single time, building something insanely powerful that you’ve never felt before. You grab his wrist, looking up at him with slight fear in your eyes, but he doesn’t seem concerned. He’s determined, if anything. 

“Good girl,” he purrs, so affectionately it makes your brain melt. 

He adjusts his hand on your stomach just a little further down. At the same time that you feel him rubbing your clit again, he ducks down to suck on one of your nipples, and fireworks explode behind your eyelids. The quadruple stimulation makes you scream. 

“Gonna make a mess for me, kitten? Yeah? Gonna cum all over my cock again?” 

You don’t even have time to nod or reply in any way. A strong surge of pleasure smashes into you from all sides, whiting out your vision. It’s a feeling of release unlike any other that you’ve felt before, much harder than any orgasm you’ve ever had. He keeps fucking you through it until your pussy forces him out, watching your body shake uncontrollably underneath him, soaking the sheets below you, and his lower body. Now you know damn well what kind of ‘rough’ you’ll be getting from him: overstimulation. Making you cum until you beg him to stop. 

San growls at the sight. It burns into his brain, and he can already say for certain that he’ll be jerking off to the memory of this later tonight and for days to come. 

Just to prolong it, he taps his heavy cock against your pussy and clit again, enjoying how you try to squirm away from it. 

You’re so wet, it’s audible. Every tap is loud, and a thin, stringy mixture of his spit and your slick clings to him for as long as it can whenever he pulls away. You reach for him, not knowing exactly what you want, but knowing you want him closer to you, and he obliges. He leans down over you again, slowly sliding his length between your puffy, wet folds. 

A familiar, faint voice from the left is ignored totally by you and him, too busy coming down from the most intense high of your life, and him holding you through it.  

An aftershock rattles you from head to toe, and you gasp when you feel it. The intense pleasure you felt gives way to sudden emptiness, and you realize you do not have anything to clench down on anymore. Though his dick is right there, dragging up and down your outer lips, it feels so far away from where you actually want it. 

Thankfully, sensing your dilemma – and hearing you whine for it – he doesn’t make you wait any longer. In your post-orgasmic haze, he guides you over onto all fours, now facing the foot of the bed. Ever the gentleman, he moves your hair out of your face. However, you imagine it’s so the camera can see your fucked out, dazed expression. 

His cock slips back inside of you easily, without any resistance, and the two of you groan in unison. In both relief and pleasure.  

That familiar, faint voice comes back. Clearer this time, and closer as well. “San… San! We’re taking another break now.” 

San kisses your shoulder blade, barely paying attention. “Okay, have fun,” he brushes the voice off, impatiently. 

You’d laugh if you had any coherent thoughts or spare energy left. No, you’re a bit preoccupied at the moment, your body trembling around his cock, and so happy that he’s pushed back into you. Truthfully, you don’t even care if you’re stressing out the crew anymore. All of your thoughts are about San. 

San smooths a hand up your spine, slowly pushing inch by inch into your soaked hole. He shushes you gently when you whimper, interlacing his fingers with yours when you try to reach back to find his hand to hold.  

“I know, kitten, it’s okay. Just relax.”

Easier said than done. 

He lightly presses your lower back, signalling you to arch it for him a little more. You nearly regret it when you feel him deeper than before in this position. Your elbows threaten to buckle, body shaking like a leaf. Yet, you still want more. Even though you’re nearing a certain point, wavering between overexertion and exhaustion, you crave more. You want to chase that feeling with him again. Make him glad he asked you to come here. Make him come back for more. So, you grit your teeth and keep yourself from face-planting into the mattress. For now, at least.  

San’s powerful pace resumes in no time, stealing every breath from your lungs. Another vague, quiet plea falls from your lips, and in response, he squeezes your hips, pulling them back to meet every thrust. Your throat is raw from all the noise you’re making, and you know you’ll have to drink some tea or honey tonight to get your voice back to normal. Not this thin, broken voice you have now. Your lower back aches from staying in this position, but you do your best to ignore it. 

It helps that his cock is basically in your stomach, that does a lot to distract you from a mere ache in your back. It also helps that your pussy is extra sensitive, coming three times – twice in a row without a break – and squirting for the first time. On camera, no less. Your viewers are going to lose their fucking minds. The image of your donation box on your livestreams, and your Venmo accounts skyrocketing after this video releases is motivation enough for you to want him to make you do it again. 

Your back arches even more, hips grinding back against his to get more of him somehow. 

Such a little natural.     

“Mmm, there you go. That’s it. Keep fucking yourself on my cock, pretty girl.” 

You make a noise, halfway between a whine and a moan and do as he says. Your chest grazes the sheets below you, chin buried into the mattress and arms gripping the edge of the bed in front of you. 

“Fuck,” you whimper, a couple of stray tears threatening to fall. “You’re s-so fucking deep.” 

San groans, increasing the pace. You yelp when you feel him smack your ass, and again when he hits it a second and third time. By the time the third strike lands, he doesn’t even give you any time to process the stinging pain he’s left behind before there’s a new one on the back of your head. 

Slightly dizzy, it takes you a second to realize you’re upright, on your knees. One hand tangled in your hair, pulling at the roots, and the other rubbing incessant circles on your swollen clit. His chest presses into your back, and he moves your head to face him so he can kiss you again. Mind threatening to wipe completely, you can’t fight to hold back your tears anymore. You shudder violently, and he groans as he feels your body struggle to keep up with him. He knows you can take it, though. You’re a fighter, he can tell. 

“Doing so well,” he whispers in your ear, “such a good girl for me, baby. Knew you would be. Knew I’d get this pussy to fall apart on my dick. Thought about it so fucking much…”

You whine against his mouth, tears wetting his face now as well. The blatant admission that he had thought about you like this before today goes straight over your head. 

All you hear is his praise. You’re doing well. Good enough for him, like you were so stressed about being. Nothing else matters to you anymore, now that you’ve earned his approval. A proud smile creeps across your face, and he grins at the faraway look in your half-lidded eyes. You’re so far gone. Completely pleasure-drunk.  

The hand in your hair tightens again and loosens, like it’s an afterthought now. Just something for him to hold onto. To keep you steady, if anything. Warm pressure building and building again in your stomach, you round your back as another shiver wracks its way through your body, making your spine tingle. His hand moves down to hold you by the back of the neck, and he slows his pace just enough to guide you back down onto the bed. This time, totally flat. Your pussy forces him out at this new position, but his other hand is quick to spread one of your ass cheeks apart, cock sliding back inside of you. 

He doesn’t ease you into his pace anymore. The first brutal thrust makes your eyes roll back, and your jaw falls open. Your nails claw at the bedding, every muscle in your arms straining while you hold onto the fabric for dear life.   

He’s so fucking deep. Impossibly, almost. 

He may just make you cum like this, without even needing to touch your clit. He’s making you learn so much about what your body can do when in the right hands. No wonder people are so obsessed with him. He’s become so in tune with your body so quickly, just by paying explicit attention to you this whole time. It makes you really appreciate his expertise, because he could easily have just used what has worked for other girls in the past. He probably could’ve made you cum like that as well, but he tailors himself for each girl. Adapts for them. For you. 

And he’s learning you pretty well. Probably read you like a fucking book. 

Every precisely angled thrust punches a moan out from deep within your chest. Each sound is partly muffled by the bedding, and you try to keep quiet, not wanting to be annoying. You can’t help it, though. Not when it feels this good. Certainly not when another orgasm is building, more rapidly than the others. 

You squirm under him, toes curling and nails digging into the mattress. 

“I– mmf–! You’re… you’re gonna make me cum again,” you have to speak quickly before it hits you. 

San leans over you, hands planted right next to your shoulders, fucking you harder. “Give it to me, pretty girl. I want every fucking drop.” 

Someone dressed in all black stands right in front of you, pointing something towards you. It doesn’t register that it’s the camera guy with the handheld camera for a couple seconds. You imagine he’s zooming in, capturing everything. He must know the future audience does not want to miss a single second of how you react to coming again, and how San won’t let up on you once you do… again. 

Your eyes shut tight once your fourth climax thunders through you. Pure ecstasy erupts in every vein. Euphoria clouds your brain. The sheets beneath you two become even more soaked, and you can feel your release dripping down your thighs. You must’ve been loud because your throat feels scratchy and rough all of a sudden, but your head is in such a rush that you don’t even hear anything. 

San holds you by your throat now, making you keep your face up. 

Just as you predicted, San doesn’t stop or slow his pace whatsoever. True to his promise that he’s ‘gonna make you feel so good’. Well, that promise is currently turning you into a limp, fucked out mess. You’ve never had this many orgasms so quick in succession before. It’s making your hormones go absolutely wild, and you cry harder, wetting San’s hand with your tears. The camera loves it. 

There are some sounds near you that you can’t be bothered to discern, and you just lean into San’s hand on your throat. Fully intent on just letting him do whatever he wants to you at this point. He pretty much already is. Although, you’re not entirely sure how many more times you can cum without passing out. You hope he’ll stop before that happens. You don’t want to embarrass yourself like that. 

San subtly taps your throat, getting your attention, before raising your head a little higher by the throat. 

You blink stupidly up at the cameraman in front of you, eyes half-lidded and heavy, struggling to keep them open. You flinch a little when you see that there are two more people in front of you, the director included. When did everyone get so much closer to the bed? All of them, you notice, are at least semi-hard. Director Choi nods behind the camera, muttering inaudible praises. Your hands grip the sheets, knuckles turning white, and pull them up towards your mouth to muffle your screams. Out of frame, Director Choi motions for an assistant to pull the sheets down, ripping your comfort away, exposing how loud you’re being. Tears sting your eyes, both from exertion and from the intense pleasure San is giving you. 

“Pussy’s so good… so tight and wet… could fuck you forever.” 

Director Choi silently motions for San to keep talking like that. 

San grunts, fighting to catch his breath enough to speak again. “Such a good girl… gonna make you cum again.” 

And he does. 

Before you even realize that it’s been simmering and building, it knocks into you sideways. This time, you can’t even scream. Your mouth drops open but no sound comes out due to your body locking up. San releases your throat, worried that you’re not breathing – and he’s right. He slows down considerably, moving your hair away from your face to check on you. Your body slowly relaxes again underneath him, one muscle at a time, and a low, guttural groan tears itself from your throat. 

You can feel every inch of him dragging past your inner walls, and every slightest movement makes your pussy clench, trying to simultaneously push him out and suck him in further. Instead of continuing again, though, he pushes all the way into you one more time, and then stops. 

It’s somehow both torture and a relief. You feel so fucking full, but he isn’t doing anything to continue the dull flames that engulf your lower stomach, and yet you know it’s better than being empty. He could pull out, leave you to deal with that emptiness before you felt ready. He doesn’t. Appreciative thoughts swirl around your head and you cry harder, trying to hide your tears in the sheets. 

When the camera crew and director see that he’s not continuing, they call for another break. Everyone moves away, and there’s no longer a black cloud in front of you. 

San doesn’t move an inch, though.  

He brushes through your hair with his fingers, comforting you. He’s intent on waiting until you calm down, not wanting to push you too far before you’re ready. He knows he went a little crazy, instantly getting addicted to the feeling of you coming around his dick, and you deserve a break. As long as you need. 

But you’re addicted yourself. A real glutton for the pleasure he’s given you thus far. You push back and wiggle against him, trying to get him to move again. His hands push you down by your hips, keeping them still. You whine at the denial, looking over your shoulder at him with teary, red eyes. He almost gives in. 

“I know, baby. Just relax with me for a moment.” 

You pout, another tear roaming down your cheek. Deep down, you know he’s right. Your body has been pleading for a break two orgasms ago. It’s high time you listen to it. You collapse, finally letting yourself relax, solely focusing on the quiet murmur of the crew off to the side, and San’s fingers running through your hair. 

It’s a nice moment.  

Nicer still when San litters your shoulders and back with gentle kisses, helping you calm down. Clearer thoughts slowly begin to reenter your mind, and your breaths even out, relatively back to normal. Better than the mixture of shallow inhales, long periods of holding your breath, and gasps for air. Because of the improved air intake, your head finally feels like it’s stopped swimming. Little by little, your energy comes back. 

You take a deep inhale, sighing contently as you exhale it back out. Looking behind you again, you catch him already watching you. 

“Hi,” you mumble, half-smiling.

San smirks, his hand cupping your cheek. “Hey, pretty girl. Feel okay?” 

You nod, humming, and you subtly push back against him. The feeling of his cock pressing into you doesn’t shock your body as much as it did before. Now it’s a welcome, familiar feeling. Sought after. You really are addicted. Maybe even insatiable when it comes to how well he fucks you. 

With the other hand, he places a water bottle in front of your face, the same one with a straw poked through the cap from before. You don’t bother wondering where he got it from. You have a pretty good idea. They’re always everywhere during a break. 

Once you’re done with the bottle, he places it against one of the pillows, where it will no doubt be collected by a production assistant within seconds. 

You push back again, trying to get him to move. You hear him chuckle behind you. 

“Greedy little thing, aren’t you?” 

Instead of contradicting his statement, you just nod. Why lie? 

“Wanna make you cum too,” 

San hums, just barely rolling his hips into yours. “How do you wanna do that, kitten?” 

You steel yourself for what you’re about to do. Hoping he will let you go through with your plan, you pull yourself away from him, and he slips out of you. The emptiness hits just as hard as you thought it would, and you whimper at the initial feeling. If all goes to plan, you won't be for long. 

San watches you carefully as you turn to face him on the bed, gently pushing him back against the pillows. His hands instinctually rest on your hips as you straddle him, and he looks up at you, patiently waiting for your next move. At least, coming across as patient externally. You don’t miss how his dick twitches, eager to be engulfed by your warmth again. He must feel something equivalent to the emptiness you felt when you pulled away. 

You’ll fix that gladly. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the crew start to come back to their spots – lights, camera, microphones. They must have learned not to stay too far away when it comes to filming you two. You do your best to hide your grin. 

San helps you line up the head of his cock to your entrance, and you steady yourself with your hands on his shoulders as you slowly sink down. His eyes flutter shut, eyebrows furrowing as he exhales shakily. Following his lead, you don’t give him much time to adjust before you start moving. 

You swear you hear him whimper. Just once, but you catch it nevertheless. 

He keeps his eyes down, locked between you, watching your cunt swallow his dick over and over again. You bite your lip, nails digging into his shoulders as his hands become more firm on your hips. The next time you sink down, he pulls you down hard. You gasp, not expecting it, and he attacks your lips once again. 

You kiss him back just as eagerly, increasing your pace. Your thighs already start to protest from the strain, but you can’t bring yourself to care or stop. Not when he’s moaning into your mouth like this. Every noise you pull out of him is pure music to your ears. A rhapsody you could hear a thousand times and not get bored of. You pull away from his lips just to hear him clearer, and he chases you. He nips your bottom lip, one of his hands slowly travelling up to knead one of your boobs again. 

Breaths mingling, you shiver in his hold. His other hand dips down to rest on your ass, squeezing the flesh there as you bounce on his cock. 

The heat of it all consumes you, drives you to get him to cum. You want to hear him. You want to repay him for making you cum four times, and put in just as much effort. 

It’s a battle to try and ignore your own pleasure, building up for a fifth time. You’re not convinced you can cum again. However, now you’re willing to see what happens. If you faint, you faint. 

You clench around him on purpose, grinding into him and rolling your hips, your gummy walls massaging his length and successfully driving him crazy. His head falls back against the headboard, and his fingers begin to leave bruises on your skin. 

“So fucking good,” he hisses, “such a good girl… gonna make me cum so hard.” 

The thought and image that accompanies it gives you a second wind of energy. Your hands move to his chest, and you press down as you continue to fuck him. 

“Want you to cum inside me,” you beg him, hot breath hitting his neck. You feel him shudder underneath you. 

San only nods, unable to speak. You lick a stripe up his neck, tasting the slight saltiness of his sweat and kissing the hinge of his jaw. Right next to his ear, you moan again, enjoying how he tenses up. 

Suddenly, both of his arms are wrapped around your waist, and he sits up a little more. One of his hands presses into your upper back, supporting you as he starts fucking up into you, seamlessly matching your rhythm. 

He lets out a choked moan, cutting it off by kissing you one more time before his eyes shut tight. 

“Gonna cum…fuck, I’m gonna cum so deep inside you, kitten. Gonna feel me for days.” 

You whine at his words, and he seems to have worked himself up further by saying it as well. 

“Please, sir, need your cum inside of me. Please give it to me–” 

San pushes you down onto your back before you can blink. Your legs wrap around him, and the pleasure increases for you almost instantaneously. When you look down, you swear you can see a slight bulge in your stomach. His lips attach to your neck, sucking and biting to muffle his moans as much as possible. Every sound he makes is so pretty. 

He pounds into you without any more room for mercy, concentrating on coming again. And he can feel that you’re close again too. 

“Cum with me,” he pants against your neck, “give me one more. Let me feel your pretty cunt cum on my cock one more time, baby.”          

One more. You nod, eyelids growing heavy again. Everything is perfect in this moment. The feeling of his cock dragging against your walls, the head of it pressing against your g-spot and fanning the flames of your arousal until it engulfs you like wildfire; his soft, plush lips on your neck, his words in your ear, and his warm, firm skin under your hands. 

As if that all wasn’t enough, San spits on his fingers and starts to rub your clit again. 

Everything adds up to push you over the edge. 

You cry out, body completely spent as you weakly squirt for him again. You can hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears, adrenaline and euphoria taking turns to run through your bloodstream. The sheets beneath you are completely soaked through. Every sense is both heightened and dulled. Exhaustion pulls itself over you like a weighted blanket. 

And your climax triggers his.

True to his word, he comes deep inside of you, filling you up until it’s leaking. The additional warmth is comforting for a second, until your stomach begins to cramp a little bit. Not enough to hurt, but just enough for you to notice. You’re definitely not used to coming this much. 

San shudders violently before dropping to his elbows, careful not to crush you under his weight. Both of you catch your breaths, chests heaving as you coax air back into your lungs. You tangle one of your hands in his hair, holding him close to you as you take this moment to settle down. He buries his face in your neck, small, audible sighs occasionally escaping him. 

Unbeknownst to you, he’s never cum that hard before. Years of experience behind him, sure, he’s gotten close to this level, but never was able to reach it until now. 

Reluctantly, he slowly drags himself out of your pussy, eyes immediately glancing down to see his cum leaking out. He smirks as he watches you fight to keep it inside, not wanting to let it go yet. 

Then, like he does every single time, he ducks down to lick one more long, slow path up your pussy. Entrance to clit. A silent ‘thank you’. You whimper, legs closing when he pulls away. 

“Cut! Print it.” 

And he’s gone. 

You feel you just got a violent slap back into reality. 

What…just happened? You slowly push yourself up, with admittedly great difficulty. 

Half of the staff flutter around you, while the others flock to San’s side, covering him up in his robe and starting to lead him towards his dressing room. The production assistants assigned to you don’t say much, handing you the same water bottle as before and urging you to drink it all. You watch the cameraman and the director talk, leisurely packing everything up. Just another day at the office. It’s all over just like that. 

Meanwhile, you feel… stunned. Maybe even a little empty, and not just physically this time. You never thought about how aftercare is pretty much nonexistent in shoots like this. Everything is strictly business. Professional. Void of any emotion for the other ‘actor’. Still, as someone runs a brush through your messy hair, and someone else wraps a silk robe over your shoulders, you find that you cannot tear your gaze away from the direction of San’s dressing room door. Your eyes threaten to tear up, a dull yet powerful feeling of rejection blooming in your chest. 

Maybe you aren’t cut out for this type of thing, no matter how many offers you receive. Not if this is how it ends, as if nothing happened. Like none of it mattered. Another notch in Choi San’s belt. 

Director Choi suddenly appears in front of you, and you’re quick to act like nothing is wrong. “You did great,” he says, “thank you for your time today.” 

You manage a fake smile and thank him as well, apologizing for any issues you may have caused by being impatient or loud. 

He simply waves it off, “Happens more than you think. Have a good rest of your night, Miss Y/L/N. Maybe we’ll work together again in the future.” 

‘Maybe’. 

His words stick to you, gnawing at your skin like leeches. He truly didn’t mean to make you feel worse, you know that, and yet he really drove home just how… common you feel. Not special whatsoever after all. 

You imagine going back home and going live again. The notorious four exclusive viewers will want to know how it went, and you’re going to have to tell them something. You doubt you’ll be able to lie. Woo will probably be able to tell something’s wrong. 

Maybe, once this check hits, you can just disappear for the foreseeable future. If you’re astronomically lucky, everyone will forget it happened so you won’t have to relive the very tail end of it. You run a hand through your hair. You’re so fucking dramatic.

It hurts a little extra when even Hongjoong doesn't stick around to check in on you, tending to his star first and foremost. You can’t say you really blame him, though – that is his job. San should be his priority. 

It’s just that you desperately wish for a friendly face, or someone to genuinely check in with you. Comfort you. 

Not to be surrounded by strangers who won’t look you in the eye.  

· · ─────── ·☆· ─────── · ·

You’re not sure what the plan is. 

You don’t even know if he’s still here. But here you are, standing in front of his dressing room door like a fucking idiot. Another girl obsessed with him. Nothing new, just another number they’ll have to delete. 

Even so, you want to try and talk to him. Ask him why the fuck he left in such a hurry. Your hands readjust their grip on your purse, with half a mind to swing it at whoever opens the door. 

Gathering up all the courage imaginable, your hand raises in a fist, and you softly knock on the door three times. 

To be honest, you’re not really expecting a response. Half of the staff are gone already, it’s unlikely that he’d want to stick around here any longer than he has to. When you checked the time on your phone in your dressing room, you were surprised to see that it’s already nearing nine o’clock. Your stomach had growled almost immediately upon seeing it. You look over your shoulder, watching the rest of the staff still here turning off some of the lights and gathering wires.    

Distracted, you jump about a mile in the air when the door opens, revealing San, now also dressed and looking like he’s ready to leave. His eyebrows raise in surprise at the sight of you. 

“Hey,” he says, so casually. “What’re you still doing here?” 

Embarrassment hits you like a brick wall. Yep, just another girl on the callsheet that stuck around to beg him for more. Ugh. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t want to bother you,” you say, already giving up on the whole idea of confronting him. Britney can’t help you now. 

You start to turn on your heel, but he opens the door wider, stepping aside as if to invite you in. “No, no. Not bothering me. What’s up?” 

Your mouth dries. Okay, now you got to follow through. But god… does he really not know? You wonder if this has never come up before. If all of the girls before you are just collectively tougher than you emotionally and can handle no aftercare, no follow up, nothing. You should be, too, honestly. You know what porn is and what it isn’t. It’s not exactly a dating service. Two hot people fuck each other and go their separate ways, money wired to them before their heads hit the pillow at night. 

Still… you and Yeosang aren’t dating, and after your collab with him, he redressed you and cuddled you for an hour straight. He made sure you knew he wasn’t going anywhere, that the friendship is still intact. You weren’t being used. 

You hesitate to step into his dressing room, and ultimately decide to just stay put. Stand your ground. You don’t want to take too long, you just need an answer. 

Out with it. 

“I was just wondering why you left so quickly? Did I do something to offend you in any way?”  

San blinks, slight confusion clouding his face. “Oh, no, I just– I saw your form. Didn’t want to hang around and make you uncomfortable.” 

Now you stare at him, just as confused. “Wait, what? What about my form?” 

“You checked off ‘Hard No’ to aftercare.”  

…Pardon? 

No way. 

He must see the bewilderment in your face because he fishes his phone out of his pocket to show you. 

“Yeah, Hongjoong said…” he trails off, the light of his phone screen reflecting in his dark brown eyes. “Yeah, look.” 

He holds his phone up to show you, and you step closer to it, squinting to see for yourself. Sure enough, amidst all of the other dozens of checkmarks, you accidentally fucked yourself over and selected ‘Hard No’ for aftercare. Luckily, you didn’t select one of the bodily fluid options as a ‘Hard Yes’ in your evident past confusion. You bury your face in your hands. 

“Oh my god. That was meant to be a ‘Hard Yes’.” You groan. Guilt threatens to eat you alive for all your negative thoughts towards him, and the texts you sent Yeosang while in your dressing room after the fact. You’re going to have to do some serious damage control to get Yeosang to not hate him forever. It’ll surely start with a screenshot of the form you fucked up, followed by a dramatic statement of your stupidity. 

San pockets his phone again, almost sheepish. He hesitantly steps closer to you, unsure of how to fix this. 

“I’m so sorry,” he says quietly, “I should’ve double checked with you.” 

“No, no, please don’t blame yourself when it’s my own mistake.” 

“Still…” he trails off, looking down at the floor. 

It hits you that he’s really hurt by this. Hurt for you. 

“San…” you tilt your head to try and meet his eye. “It’s alright, really. I feel much better now that I know it wasn’t on purpose or because I did something wrong.” 

“I’d never do that to you, or anybody. I always stress how important aftercare is to the directors I work with so they don’t try to rush through it.” San runs a hand through his freshly-washed hair as he speaks, exasperated. You vaguely remember him saying something akin to that in one of the interviews that you watched. 

Damn, he really is nice. Here you were at the start of this, thinking he’d be a cocky son of a bitch who has the world at his feet, and anything he wants within arms reach. The last two parts of that description may be right, but your assumed attitude is definitely not. Well… maybe not entirely. The cockiness isn’t used to make anyone feel small, that’s the important difference. It’s confidence, more than anything. 

“I know,” you smile, trying to make him feel better. “Really, it’s okay.” 

He seems unconvinced. “Can I make it up to you in some way?” 

You shift your weight from one foot to the other. If you wouldn’t immediately cringe at yourself for doing so, you’d maybe ask for a hug or something. Physical contact in any way to comfort you, make you believe it. But the guilt he obviously feels is enough. The knowledge that he truly thought it’s something you were so against, and he respected it anyway, is more than enough. 

“You don’t have to, San.” 

“I want to, Y/N.” 

Your pulse skips a beat, wondering what he has in mind. The way he said it was so final, like he made up his mind already. His phone reappears in his hand, texting someone quickly and sending it off. He then reaches into his dressing room, turning off the light after doing a quick scan of it and closing the door behind him. 

“Can I walk you out?” 

That, you’ll allow. 

“Sure. Are you going home?” You ask, changing the subject as the two of you start walking towards the exit doors. 

“Nah, not yet. There’s a gym on this floor I’m gonna go to first.” 

You just nod in response, wondering how on earth he has the energy to go to the gym right now. You have a very special date with your bed for the foreseeable future. It’s highly doubtful that you’ll wake up before three in the afternoon. Truthfully, you can’t wait. Maybe you’ll sleep off some of the soreness you’re sure to have tomorrow. 

“Oh, by the way, do you have an agent?” San asks you out of nowhere, right before you get to the doors. 

You blink once. Twice, processing. “No…?” 

Yeosang’s the only one who may even come close. He’s the one you ask before doing anything, wanting his opinion and blessing. But technically and professionally, no, you’re an independent artist as far as you’re concerned. 

“I’d find one soon,” San says, glancing towards the bed, soaked through. “You’re about to get a lot of offers.” 

You blush furiously, reminded of everything that transpired between you barely an hour ago. “Maybe I should just take yours.” 

San groans, “Honestly, do it. I’m sure Joong could use a break from my bullshit.” 

You laugh, trying to hide it with your hand. San pretends to be offended that you agree, clutching his heart in betrayal, which makes you laugh harder. The doors push open, the white fluorescent lights blinding both of you after being so used to the golden studio lights on set. 

“Maybe I will let you have him,” he says, a smirk growing across his face. “It’s good manners.” 

He looks at you like he knows something you don’t, and it bothers you. The word choice sounds familiar, but you can’t place it. Before you can ask, he steps closer to you, invading your personal space for the first time since being intimate with each other. You hold your breath. 

“Goodnight, baby.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead before walking down towards the opposite end of the hallway, where you can only assume is the direction of the gym. 

Fuckin’ hell… 

You stand there like an idiot for another couple of seconds, still processing what just happened in the span of five minutes. You also try to figure out the implication behind his word choice. ‘Manners’. It bugs you so much, you know you heard something about it recently, but can’t pinpoint where or when. 

The question of what he meant follows you all the way to the lobby. You press the down button on autopilot, just now remembering to text the driver to tell him that you’re ready to be picked up downstairs and taken home. From down the hallway, you hear the door to the studio swing open again – probably some of the crew heading home as well. You glance towards the stairs, not exactly jumping at the chance to be stuck in an elevator with a bunch of strangers who watched you have sex an hour ago. 

But the footsteps that follow the sound of the door closing are what gives you pause. They’re hurried, and headed towards the lobby. The elevator dings behind you. You turn around just as the mystery runner comes around the corner. 

“Oh! Hi, Mr. Kim–”  

Hongjoong jogs over to you, catching you before the elevator doors open. 

“Sorry if I startled you. San is wondering if we can arrange another collab, but this time on your livestream.” He speaks quickly, like time is of the essence.  

You stutter, brain trying to connect with your vocal cords. 

“What?” You ask, even though you heard and processed everything Hongjoong said just fine. You’re just wondering if you actually heard him right. Today just keeps getting stranger and stranger. More interesting, definitely. 

He’s quick to repeat himself, almost pleading with his eyes for you to say ‘yes’. 

At least with the emails you had some time to think everything over. Now Hongjoong is staring dead at you, waiting for the response he hopes to hear. 

You can’t help it. You want to make him chase you again. 

“Tell him I’ll think about it,” you say as sweetly as possible, stepping into the elevator. 

You try not to enjoy the perplexed look on Hongjoong’s face until the doors close completely. 

· · ─────── ·☆· ─────── · ·

You have no idea how he does it, truly. 

Everything in his world is immediate. You’re not used to it whatsoever. 

Those are the thoughts you have as you step out of the elevator in your apartment building, walking up to your door. You're more than ready to throw your shit down in the kitchen and go the fuck to bed. Your phone is in the process of being fished out of your pocket, intent on texting Yeosang to ask if he's around for a debrief.

You stop dead in your tracks when you look up, about to unlock the front door. Perched tall and proud, is a beautiful bouquet of purple flowers in a glass vase right outside your door. A card is placed in between the overlapping petals, and you can’t help but gawk at the sight of it. 

How the hell did he find your address? 

Oh– Hongjoong, probably. Your initial creeped-out feeling vanishes. Hongjoong can just find anything for San, you’re sure. 

Punching in the keycode to your door, and switching the kitchen lights on, you place the flowers on the counter, taking a second to admire them. Purple, you note. Your favorite. Again, Hongjoong must have told him, but you can’t help but smile – he really did want to make it up to you. 

You pluck the small card from the flowers and read it, sitting down at your kitchen island. 

Hope you had a good time today. 

Sorry for being such a stupid slut </3

-San

Your smile widens, laughing and rereading it. You flip it over, and on the back is a phone number, scrawled in blue ink. 

Perhaps you missed a hidden clause in the forms that makes you promise to not fall in love with him. 

You hope not. 

[end of part one].

[everyonewooeverywhere]

mama milfhwa mama oof

[everyonewooeverywhere]

imagining taking a paris trip with her. and she spends extra time figuring out what places you’d want to go. and you end every night with a beautiful meal she hand picks.

and when you get back to your hotel suite, she takes her time undressing you. lips on you neck, hands tracing the expanse of your stomach and waist as she guides you to the bed.

you thank her breathlessly for such a beautiful trip.

“anything for my angel,” she whispers. it’s just for you. a quiet reassurance that you have all her love.

and when you’re done she wraps you in her arms, skin to skin, her warmth lulling you into a drowsy state. and you fall asleep as she strokes your hair, the only light in the room cascading in from the city outside.

she wishes she could have you just like this forever. free from the judgement and scouring eyes. she holds you tighter, and you bury you face in her neck. you breathe in the smell of warm vanilla and honey. “i love you, my angel,” she kisses your shoulder.

your arms tighten around her waist. a silent acknowledgment. i love you, too.

[sunmoonjune]

Happy The Silver Hound publishing day!!

The Ebook is now available on my website (www.junemoon.net) for those of you who prefer digital books or for those who don’t want to pay shipping fees :D

All versions are now available for purchase as well, and I am fulfilling orders as they come in! For those of you who pre-ordered, you should hopefully be receiving confirmation emails soon, but you’ll have to wait a little while before tracking info is updated! once I have tracking numbers, I can mark your order as 'fulfilled' and you'll get a confirmation email. however, rest assured, your orders are being printed!! I have individually sent them all in myself; I just can't send your confirmation emails until they've been shipped!

Special Edition copies will also be up for sale soon (likely in the next week or so) as well for those of you who would like a signature and extra goodies (and probably some incorrect quotes lol—have to add them somewhere xD) in your order! These special copies will be handled entirely by me instead of direct-to-customer! These will likely be released in small batches so keep an eye out for updates :D

A massive thank you to all of you for supporting me on this journey! I truly could never have gotten this far without you and all your kind words and encouragement!! I’m so happy to have joined a community with such amazing people <33 if you have the opportunity to get a copy of the silver hound, let me know what you think!! I’m always happy to hear your thoughts (either here or on my author insta!)

Thank you again <33 love you all <3

[maho6any]

don't be a bully

a/n: thanks to juno for planting the brainworms for this

minjoong x f!reader

content: threesome, overstimulation, boys kissing

wc: 1.9k

thinking about mingi & hongjoong...

they are so mean to you.

they find so much pleasure in torturing you, seeking out your limits, and happily pushing you past them with a grin on their face and their hands all over you. they learned recently that you cannot handle them both at the same time without shattering like porcelain. melting against their bodies like the heat of their skin was too much, suffocating between them like some kind of trapped animal. 

it has become their new favorite way of making you go stupid.

hongjoong lies back on the bed, his legs spread nice and wide to accommodate your body between them, lying lazily with your back against his chest. his lips buried against your neck or whispering next to your ear, kissing the side of your throat, or praising you against your temple. his hands roam about your body, travelling up your sides, along your shaking arms, up to pinch your nipples, and rolling them between his fingertips. his ankles hook on yours to keep your legs spread pretty and open, all for him.

mingi, who leans over your body, his hands hooked nice and hard on your hips, squeezing so tight it bruises. his head dropped as he watched his body roll and move, meticulously gliding his big cock in and out of your drooling cunt. you’re so wet it leaves a shiny mess on his lower abdomen each time his hips meet yours, and you’re creaming around the base of him each time he sinks in so deep that hongjoong can feel your shoulders tense with every drag.

mingi lets low, breathy groans slip past his swollen lips, never ripping his gaze from your pussy. enamoured with how you seemed to just suck him right back in each time he pulled back, like your body had a mind of its own. your sweet, helpless moans awakened that urge in him to drag more sounds out of you, shifting the angle of his hips every so often to keep you on your toes, never giving you the chance to relax.

and hongjoong was so sick in your ear and against your skin. pressing wet, moaning kisses against your neck and below your ear, his fingers ghosting down the front of your body so softly, teasing you with fleeting rolls against your puffy clit.

“fuck… please keep doing that.” mingi sighs to hongjoong, letting his head fall back for a second to really relish in the feeling of your warm walls around his cock. 

hongjoong laughs softly against your ear and presses his palm flat against your lower stomach, just enough pressure to put a weight on your bladder, just enough that he could feel mingi stroking in and out of your guts beneath it. “doing what, min?” he coos, dragging his other hand up the side of your waist, squeezing and kneading and feeling all of you like you were some kind of stress toy.

“keep talkin’ to her.” mingi purrs, pressing his fingers against your hips in a wave motion, lowering them a bit further to grab purchase on your thighs to spread you even wider. 

“she gets so goddamn tight when you do.” 

you bite your bottom lip and moan lowly when the warmth of hongjoong’s hand spreads over your belly, and he gently nips at your earlobe when mingi starts to push himself into you even deeper, grinding his hips against yours and whining lowly when you gush around him even more.

“you like me talking to you, hm pretty baby?” hongjoong whispers against your ear so low, so fucking low, your entire body shudders against his chest, and you can hear mingi moan so loud, and it makes your stomach clench.

you can’t even reply, and he’s pressing his hand harder against your stomach. lights start blinking behind your eyes, and you break out into a drunk sweat. “such a good, slick girl for us, aren't you?”

the hand on your waist moves again, down over your hips, over the top of your thigh, before it slips between your legs and he finds your clit once again, but this time he makes no move to stop as he begins to rub, languid, pressurized upward circles against it. your back arches against hongjoong’s chest, and your legs shake, but hongjoong’s strong legs keep you spread open so mingi can keep fucking you full of him.

you feel mingi twitch inside of you, and he’s letting his head fall forward, his eyebrows knit together in pure bliss, and his lips parted in bassy grumbles as you tighten so much around him he swears he’s drooling on your stomach.

your head starts to lean back on your neck against hongjoong’s shoulder, but he won’t let you. he moves his hand away from your clit and brings it up to press his palm flat against the back of your skull. 

“nuh uh, sweet girl. down. watch him fuck you, baby. look at how soaked you are.” and he pushes your head back down, forcing you to stare at mingi’s lower body. his body rolling as he pushes his cock into you with deep, calculated strokes, strings of slick clinging to his lower v-line. his big hands holding you nice and open, his nails leaving crescent moons in the flesh of your thighs. you whine pathetically when you also see the way hongjoong holds his hand down against your stomach, like he was trying to pin you in place between them, keeping you from running. it was all just too much.

“f-fuck..! i c-cant-” you cry out, and mingi is first to shoot you down. with a rough, pinpointed thrust, he’s bringing his hand up and then back down, landing a burning slap on your cunt as he starts to fuck into you with nasty purpose.

“you can, and you are.” he snips at you, and hongjoong ruts his hard on against your lower back, feeling mingi’s cock move in and out of you so roughly beneath his palm through the flesh of your stomach, it was driving him mad.

“don’t be so rough, you’re gonna hurt her, you know how big you are.” hongjoong pretends to care, kissing beneath your ear and whining softly just to get you to clench tighter.

mingi clicks his tongue, leaning down just far enough that he can talk to you against your other ear.

“she’ll be alright. won’t you, baby?” he grits out through a low moan, emphasizing his point with a deep roll of his hips, pressing so heavily into you it makes your limbs twitch like you’ve been shocked.

when he feels you suck him in so much stronger than any other time that night, he just knew your brain was mush at this point, and drags his tongue up the side of yout throat, ending his journey with a kiss to the shell of your ear and a vulgar murmur against your skin. “nasty fuckin girl.”

then he’s pulling back, completely focused on ruining your pretty cunt with his cock, using you like a living, breathing toy. hongjoong presses his nose flush against the vein in your neck as he talks to you.

“he’s so deep inside of you, sweetheart, i can feel him.”

“i’m kind of jealous right now, he's got you making such a sticky mess on his dick, huh?”

“c’mon, baby, get louder, moan for us… like this.” 

and he’ll mock you with whiny, playful moans of his own against your ear, sending shockwaves to your cunt. the pinches on your clit an encouragement to keep performing for them, the deep drag of mingi’s tip against that brain-numbing spot a plea to keep you moaning like a slut.

“once min’s done, we can switch. and he can play with your pussy and talk to you all sweet while i fuck you so full of me you’ll start leaking all over the place.” you groan loudly, and your spine arches beautifully as you feel it, your orgasm travelling from your lower belly all throughout your body. your skin tingling and your brain fogging, your nerves on high alert as you cum all over mingi’s cock.

“oh– fuck. she liked that, huh? didn’t you baby…” mingi pauses for a brief moment, overwhelmed by how stunning you looked cumming all over the two of them.

“there we go, baby, that's it. get it allll out, keeping cumming.” hongjoong slows the movement on your clit to light, teasing brushes. each time he pushes up against the sensitive bud, your entire body jerks between them.

before long, mingi’s cumming too, slowing his hips and pressing nice and deep into you, making sure you stay plugged with him as he fills you up, groaning so low you could feel your ribcage shiver. he pulls out with the wettest, slickest sound and sighs heavily, immediately getting on his knees and shoving his face between your thighs.

with a hungry moan, he’s splitting your lips with his thick tongue, obscenely cleaning you up with fervor, his hands sinking into your thighs and holding you down against the bed so you don’t shake too much.

it's all a blur, but suddenly you’re moving, and you’re lying flat on the bed, no warm body behind you to keep you upright. and you lean yourself up on shaky elbows to see what's going on, and you nearly pass out.

hongjoong and mingi are both in front of you, hongjoong's fingers gripping the hair on the back of mingi’s head iron tight, and he pulls him in for the nastiest, greediest kiss you’ve ever witnessed. and you are absolutely dumbstruck.

you can see every flip of their tongues, the way mingi seems to melt against him, and you can see both of their cocks jump and twitch. tasting the mixture of mingi’s cum and your arousal, hongjoong smiles against his lips like some kind of slut.

you feel like it lasts forever before they're pulling away from each other, a thin trail of saliva snapping between them.

they’re both breathing heavily, and as if they were reading each other’s minds, hongjoong cocks his head to the side, and mingi moves. he lifts your body off the bed and takes hongjoong’s previous place, sitting on the bed and pulling your back against his chest, molding your body to his front. you can feel his soaked cock twitch against your backside, and his lips press heavily against the heat of your neck.

his hands grab your hips, and his legs spread you nice and wide once again, and you watch as hongjoong slots himself between your thighs as he’s licking the leftovers off the corner of his mouth, his lips parted in a small, lust-drunk smile. his hands find your thighs as he leans down and slowly slides the length of his cock through the slick mess of your cunt, hot and heavy against you. and you feel like you’ve been shot, point-blank range.

mingi’s hand snakes forward, and he grips your jaw in a firm, controlling hold, forcing your head to stay angled towards hongjoong, and you whimper out of what can only be described as fear and anticipation.

“my turn,” hongjoong murmurs breathlessly, playfully, and right as he’s sinking into your pussy, mingi clamps his jaw down on your shoulder, moaning against your skin as the pain of his teeth breaking your skin and the pleasure of hongjoong’s cock splitting you open sends your poor brain into complete and utter overdrive.

they’re such fucking bullies.

[lena-oleanderson]

also a poem from the new, unreleased collection. very possibly my own all-time favourite.