Jjong'sHo

25+ StayTiny- Choi Jongho Ult Bias- Ateez Ult Group

[wooyos]

[jjongsho]

Geezuss holy mother of gawd! Somebody please tell me you wrote the fic. I NEED THE FIC!!! PLEASE!!!

[velvetmatz]

STOCKHOLM ₊˚⊹♡ J.YH | 10 (m)

jeong yunho x afab! reader (feat. p.sh)

for mature audiences only, minors will be blocked.

⟢ a/n: seonghwa is really just trying his best guys | this does NOT in any way, shape, or form depict who / how any of ateez are irl. please do not take this fic as fact on their personalities, please and thank you.

⟢ summary: day one of seonghwa keeping an eye on you.

⟢ word count: 13.9k

⟢ warnings: MINORS RUN FOR THE HILLS | swearing, captive reader, conditioning, use of names (daddy, angel), slight smut, slight body worship, eating disordered behavior, dumbification, threats, fingering, arguing

18+ THIS IS THE FINAL WARNING.

posted: 1.21.26

⟢ [CLOSED] taglist: @cocostar1117 @sw33tsaturday @mangalovesanime-blog @ciderxi @aurorasjoongie @violatedvibrators @prchiquita8 @mythicalthing @stolasisyourparent @hxwq @thenewblackcanvas @lucatiny @whyismingi @0x11s @jellyroll22 @eshia16 @scarletxatz @jkayy-prodian @honghwalvr @0mrrp @h0efor2ho @mingismarmalade @ickssspencer @nadinenaya @ayleekay2006 @freyaphoria @daydreamqueenjaycee @urijjongbear @lol-imtrash2000 @sweatyracoon @oceanside-view97 @holykstan @rellz-bellz @odessa-is-my-queen @hwxbibi @sksngs @haven-cove @dollysecrets @jjongsgoodgirl @sitycc @nadinenaya @onlyforwoosan @a1avav @cotton-candycloudz @blu-kyl @fancypeacepersona @mingtiis @the-silent-listener09 @luvrgirlkumi @sugar-spice-bitch @lovemollywho @maliabobea15 @rockstarsanie

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

DAY ONE.

You and Seonghwa coexist, as you’re meant to. As you were told to. 

Luckily, he makes it easy. He keeps quiet, makes sure you’re eating properly as Yunho will want you to, and stays a respectable distance away. You can tell he’s overthinking. You don’t blame him. 

The awkwardness between you is unmatched, each of you unsure of what to say to the other. Especially during meals, when you have to be sort of close to each other. Seonghwa noted how confused and worried you had looked this morning when he slid a plate stacked with pancakes in front of you. He had gotten up early, unable to sleep after last night’s activities, and decided to cook to try and get his mind somewhat off of what he had to do – has to do. It worked… kind of. 

You’d hesitated, nervously glancing between him and the food. 

“It’s okay,” Seonghwa eventually said, nudging the plate towards you even more. “It’s for you. All of it, if you want.” 

A large part of you doesn’t trust him. After all, one of his good friends has been lying to you for almost half a year now. You don’t trust anybody but Yunho. So for breakfast, you only eat one pancake – although, you do pick the biggest one in the pile. Seonghwa doesn’t say anything, he simply takes three and sets them down onto his own plate, happy to stuff his mouth and eat in silence. 

You beelined back to your room once the table was clear and the dishes were washed and drying on the rack. All that Seonghwa asked was that you keep the door open, thinking Yunho would appreciate that. Otherwise, the two of you remained separate. 

Until lunch. 

Once again, Seonghwa took it upon himself to cook for you, ignoring your protests that this was something you ought to do for him instead. And, once again, he gives you a much bigger portion than what you are used to being given. For the second time today, you wait for the trick. The reveal of the test that Yunho asked him to conduct. And for the second time today, nothing comes. Nothing is revealed. The metaphorical rug is yet to be pulled out from under you. 

Seonghwa waves off your quiet ‘thank you’, and slurps the soup he prepared, filling the otherwise silent room. You poke at your bigger bowl of rice as your stomach growls at the sight of it. It’s rather hard to finish the bigger portion sizes, but you know that Yunho will be watching whenever he gets a chance, making sure you eat everything that is given to you. So you eat as slowly as you can, hoping that helps your stomach digest everything easier. But the nausea creeps up on you as you place the dishes and bowls in the sink. 

Seonghwa watches you hesitate, bent over slightly with your hand placed on your forehead. 

“Y/N?” He calls, crumpling up his napkin in one hand. 

You manage a small noise, high-pitched towards the end to indicate a question. He stands, approaching like he would a scared kitten. 

“You okay?” 

The first instinct that you have is to just pretend. Play it off, hide it from view, but you know that he’ll see through the charade. You don’t realize how close he got to you until you turn with the intention of going to the fridge, almost bumping right into him nose-first into his chest. This is the closest he’s ever been to you, voluntarily. Without anyone telling him to. Wordlessly, he replaces your hand with his, feeling your forehead for any indication of an abnormal, higher temperature. 

“I’m fine,” you say quietly. A small tingle of nervous energy zips up your spine, not used to the sensation of his touch. You blink rapidly, face heating up and you try to scoot past him. 

He drops his hand, relieved that you don’t have a fever or anything, but still wondering why you’re suddenly acting differently. Moving seems like a monumental, dangerous effort for you, as if you’re not sure what will happen as you take another step or open the fridge for water. He moved like that after he saw a certain graphic picture in the group chat. 

You steal a glance at him, catching his watchful, seemingly all-knowing eye and quickly looking away. You know he knows. Why you’re trying to be so strong about it, both of you aren’t quite sure. Maybe it’s because you know what he thinks of your… ‘relationship’ with Yunho and the dynamics of it, and you want to appear stronger than you really feel. Like everything’s okay. 

His presence near you is almost impossible to ignore. You don’t think he means to be, but he is rather intimidating when he’s quiet. 

Another pang rolls through your stomach and you grimace, twisting off the cap of the water bottle and taking a small sip. “I just…” you swallow thickly, “I don’t think my body is, um, used to eating so much at once.”  

He thought as much. It makes sense that that would be the case, especially with the timing of it. Still, he felt a bit guilty for not realizing that sooner, choosing to not think too deeply about the unusual slowness of your eating, or how you had looked at your plate like you were an exhausted climber who was still five hundred feet from the summit. 

Despite your quiet, initial protests, still claiming that you’re alright, he gently guides you to sit down in the living room and hands you the blanket that is draped over the top of the couch. Once you’re settled, comfortable in the way you want to be, he goes back into the kitchen and starts rummaging around. Your mouth itches to speak, to tell him that you’ll do whatever he’s trying to do, but you wince as you try to sit up. 

He only turns back to you about ten minutes later, balancing a small teacup on a saucer and bringing it over. 

“It’s peppermint,” he says, gesturing to the tea after he sets it down on the table. “It should help.” 

You thank him quietly, unmoving for a moment. The steam from the cup curls upwards towards the ceiling, beckoning you to taste it while it’s still hot. Already, the minty scent it emanates eases the uncomfortable waves of nausea. The heat of the cup warms your hands, tilting it to your lips and taking a small sip. You can feel the warmth cascade down until it lands in your stomach, relaxing it soon after it arrives there.    

Seonghwa fidgets, playing with a ring on his finger. You think Yunho and Mingi have a similar one, but you can’t quite see the details of it from here to be sure. 

“Do you need anything else? Anything that might help you feel better?” He asks, looking anywhere but directly at you. 

You hesitate. You’re not supposed to ask him for anything, really. But… 

“My, um… my puppy plushie?” You ask, blushing at the childish request. It’s been a while since you needed it. Yunho had brought that home for you a long time ago. Early. Your first reward for good behavior that had exceeded his standards. You remember how thrilled you were; your first possession in the apartment. One thing to call your own. Now, Puppy – as you so brilliantly and cleverly named it – served as a reminder of how far you’ve come. 

Daddy had given him back to you only a couple of days ago.  

If Seonghwa notices how embarrassed and small you feel, he doesn’t say anything. Thankfully. He only nods once, and exits the living room, disappearing into the bedroom. You relax a little more against the couch, the tea working its magic the more you sip it. It tastes like Christmas. From what you could see from the thick, blackout curtain, the minimal light that crept in around the edges was white, rather than gold. You wonder if it's snowing. Maybe when Daddy gets back, he’ll let you see it. Cautious excitement blooms in your chest. 

Maybe. 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Seonghwa, meanwhile, is frozen. 

In the disarray of last night, Puppy had fallen to the floor with the sharp movement of the sheets, its little head peeking out just barely from underneath the bed. It had taken Seonghwa longer than expected to find the plushie, even searching the closet and bathroom before he eventually found it. He bent down to pull it out, but it was stuck on something. A small ripping sound cuts through the quiet room. On his hands and knees, he ducks down, looking under the bed for what could be holding onto the toy, only to find something he did not expect… but had heard about. 

A gun. 

Hidden away, taped up on the frame of the bed, a stray piece of tape catching onto Puppy’s fur. Startled, he jerks back, hitting his hand on the metal bedframe. 

“Shit…” he hisses under his breath. The pain in his hand is the least of his worries right now, and to be honest he doesn’t even really register it at all. It will bruise, but he can’t bring himself to care. This is the first gun he’s seen in real life. He’s held fake ones before, but this one is the real deal. This one has killed before. Lives are tied to the trigger, every bullet expelled from it. This gun… can link Yunho to several crimes. 

However, to his knowledge, and from what Mingi has been able to tell him, none of the other missing girls have been found yet. Without bodies, it’s unlikely the courts can successfully link him to their cases. 

Quickly, he straightens himself, checking to make sure your stuffed animal didn’t sustain any damage from the tape and rises to his feet again. Out of the corner of his eye, he looks directly at one of the cameras. Yunho can’t know he found this. He needs to make it look like a close call. He saw nothing. 

His breath is erratic, but he keeps it hidden well. Quiet and undetectable from here. Turning on his heel, he slowly makes his way back into the living room, the image of the gun branding itself in the forefront of his mind’s eye.  

It goes off every time he blinks. And once you come into his field of vision again, he averts his eyes like you’re a brutal crime scene. 

In a way, maybe you are.  

You instantly pick up on the fact that something’s different with him when he comes back in. His eyes stay glued to the floor as he hands Puppy to you. 

An odd feeling spreads through you, one you’ve felt before but couldn’t precisely label just with a single word. If Yunho trusts Seonghwa, then you should trust him as well… but you can’t. And though you feel a bit silly to not trust him over something so simple as him not looking at you all of a sudden, a delayed warning finally rings out in the back of your mind. A ‘what if’. The kind your imagination picks up and runs with regularly. You’ve instinctively picked up on something, even though you don’t know what it is. 

That voice gets louder when you realize he’s made his way back to the kitchen, running the sink and starting to wash the dishes. Your responsibility. Only yours. 

You throw the blanket off of you in a panic, scrambling to your feet. “No, no, Sir, let me do it–” 

Seonghwa stops moving, only to make sure you hear him clearly, “You don’t have to call me that,” he says, knowing that it’s not true. “We’re friends, right?” 

Friends? 

The word itself almost makes you step back in surprise. Is that what you two are? Friends… the word sits heavy in your mind. You think you had friends before you came here, but you can’t remember too clearly. Names and faces blur, memories tangle together. Nothing discernable. Nothing important anymore. 

Is that what Yunho wants you two to be? 

Seonghwa looks at you over his shoulder, forcing a small grin before turning back to the sink.     

You glance at the closest hidden camera to you, the one on the coffee table. It’s practically invisible unless you’re looking for it, but you find it easily. You glance between it and Seonghwa. The question of whether Yunho will be mad if you allow him to do your chores for you rings in your head. 

The answer is probably. 

You’re stuck. Left to hope against hope Yunho doesn’t get mad about this if he finds out, and pray that if he does, Seonghwa will defend you. 

Eventually, you decide there will be less of a chance of getting in trouble if you put more of an effort in. And that’s how you find yourself sitting on the counter, next to the sink, handing Seonghwa the second of four dishes. The two of you are quiet, thankful for the loud rush of the sink that aptly fills the otherwise awkward silence. His jaw is clenched. Almost like he’s trying to keep his thoughts in his mouth. 

“How is everyone?” You ask, out of nowhere. 

Seonghwa pauses, registering what you meant by ‘everyone’, and slowly sets the plate down. 

“Everyone’s… okay.” He says, finding a proper word to cover all his bases. A white lie. One you’ll have to forgive him for. 

You hum in response, idly swinging your feet in thought. 

“Daddy said I still haven’t met all of you yet,” you mention as you hand Seonghwa another plate to wash. 

Seonghwa swallows hard. “No,” he agrees. “You haven’t yet.” 

Again, you fall silent. Your heels hit the cabinet in a steady rhythm. The plates and silverware clink together, a sharp glassy sound. 

“Are you two gonna do anything for Christmas?” Seonghwa asks, steering the subject away from the others. Even verbally, he’s protecting them as much as he can, keeping their names safe from the sinister walls of the apartment.   

You pause. “Oh… I don’t know. Is it December?”  

Seonghwa nearly drops the final plate, adjusting his grip at the very last second. 

“Yes,” he says tightly, “It’s December twenty-first.” 

The two of you look at each other for a moment. A brief, unspoken acknowledgement. Your eyes wander the apartment. You wish you could decorate, hang up stockings and ornaments, and worry about getting good presents for Yunho. Will he even let you have a Christmas?

Shifting a little uncomfortably up on the counter, you bite your bottom lip. It’s been so long since you knew the exact date. The only way you knew time was passing and the seasons were changing was the fact that it’s colder inside the apartment, and that the sun had started to set earlier and earlier. 

Ten months here. Ten days until the new year. Two months until your one year anniversary. 

You absentmindedly pick at your nails, wondering how that day will be spent. If you get that far. 

Seonghwa finishes washing up quickly, needing to sit down soon to clear his head. He offers his hand to help you hop off the counter, your feet landing on the wood floor with a soft thud. You beat him back to the living room, taking another sip of the tea he had made for you as you nestle back onto the couch. 

The tea definitely helps calm your stomach as well as warm your body from the frigid December air. Now that you’ve traded the air conditioning for the heat, you pile another blanket on top of you, trying to warm your feet up. Seonghwa sits hesitantly, on the opposite end of the couch, occasionally glancing towards Yunho’s room. 

Every blink is another image of the gun branded against his eyelids. Bang, bang, bang. 

“Have you heard from Daddy today?” You ask him, hugging Puppy close to your chest.  

He turns to look at you. 

Bang. 

“Oh, um…” he wastes time by pulling out his phone, knowing that he hasn’t heard from him since last night. “No, not yet.” 

He watches you deflate, self-consciously pulling the blankets just a little farther up to cover your shoulders now. You pull Puppy out from under the blankets. He hates the dark too. 

It’s definitely not the first time you’ve felt self-conscious with Seonghwa around. Literally, he is that beautiful. You’re sure you look a mess, frail, dull compared to him. It makes you want to hide from him. 

There’s a silence long enough for you to build up the courage to speak to him again. 

“You’re really pretty.” You mumble shyly. You can feel your face heating up, and not from the tea or the blankets. 

Seonghwa clears his throat, not expecting to hear that. “Oh, thank you. So are you.” He hopes that compliment isn’t crossing any boundaries, though he’s sure it isn’t. It’s so easy to overthink the simplest things here. He’s certainly done and said worse. 

But, despite the awkward energy between you, he has to initiate what he came here to do. What he volunteered to do. 

“So, uh, has Yunho told you anything about Ateez?” 

You glance at him, evident confusion written clear across your face. “Ateez?” You ask, “What’s that?” 

Seonghwa draws a breath in. Mingi told him that a while ago, that you still don’t know about what they do for work. He wonders how Yunho kept it from you for so long. 

“We’re an idol group,” he explains, “that’s why Yunho has such weird hours and why he has to go away for long periods of time.” 

You don’t reply. Not verbally at least. You just kind of sit with the information as it all makes sense to you now. Maybe he wasn’t neglecting you on purpose, all those days when he’d leave you here by yourself. Maybe it was because he didn’t have a choice. It was probably how he could afford this apartment as well as all the expensive clothes he’s bought you.  

“Do you want to see?” Seonghwa asks. 

You shrug, not really knowing if you should agree to this or not. You’re sure Daddy kept this from you for a reason, and it seems wrong for Seonghwa to bring this up behind his back. Mingi must have told them that you don’t know. You start to feel dumb again, small and pathetic for not knowing. They must think you’re stupid or something for not knowing sooner.  

Once Seonghwa pulls up YouTube on the smart TV, he flicks through thumbnails of multiple music videos, recognizable faces on most of them. Half-heartedly, you play with a loose thread in one of the blankets, your eyes flicking up when you hear music coming from the speakers.

It’s hard to register that you’re watching Yunho on screen, singing about… rebellion of all things. Seonghwa watches you carefully out of the corner of his eye, noting how conflicted and affected you seem to be. He notices that you’re gripping one of the blankets a little tighter than normal, a grimace twisting your face. 

You try to keep everything you’re feeling hidden, but your brain feels like it’s static. The faces go by one by one quite rapidly, and there’s two that you don’t recognize whatsoever. You haven’t seen them here yet. At the moment, you can’t remember their names. Seonghwa appears on screen for the chorus, his hair styled up in a strange way, making him look like a bird of prey. Mingi appears on screen and you have to look away completely, but his voice fills the room. You hug Puppy tighter. The music seems to get louder and louder, burrowing painfully into your ears, though Seonghwa isn’t touching the remote. Panic rises in your chest for no reason. The sound itself causes your pulse to quicken, your very bones vibrating. You only realize what you’re feeling when you find that you can barely speak. It’s hard to think, and yet your mind feels overcrowded, each thought trampled under the next. Your hands cover your ears, though it does nothing to stifle the noise.    

Luckily, Seonghwa can plainly see your distress and quickly pauses the video. “What is it? What happened?” 

“I-I haven’t–” you pat your ears, trying to explain but the words keep getting stuck. That same pitiful feeling creeps up on you again. Couldn’t even get through a song without panicking. Inwardly, you try to be nice to yourself, reasoning that maybe it was also because of the discovery that Yunho is an idol, as well as your stress with being alone with Seonghwa. Everything is piling on top of one another. 

But that negative voice is always louder: Daddy’s right, it tells you. 

Can’t handle the world, not without him. You imagine yourself on the unforgiving and dangerous streets below, completely alone and exposed to life itself all at once. No one down there would care about you. No one would comfort you or help if you started to panic. They’d hurry past you, not realizing who you are. Not caring who you are. No matter what happens to you here, it’s better to stay with someone who cares about you. That’s what Yunho belted into your brain the last few weeks. 

God, the belt. 

You squirm as you remember him threatening, striking, and taunting you with it. Every day. Beaten back down to where you belong: dumb and obedient. Afraid and small. It hadn’t taken long at all – you already knew this was true beforehand. 

The proof of it is still just a little hard to swallow. 

Seonghwa moves closer to you, wanting to help. Also, he feels a bit guilty he didn’t take your situation into account. But ultimately, it’s worth it if he can begin to break you out of this headspace Yunho has placed you in. 

“He hasn’t let you listen to music this whole time?” He asks, already knowing the answer. 

“It’s not important.” You recite obediently.  

Music is a distraction. Music isn’t going to help you or guide you on the path to perfection. Only perfect dolls can have that sort of privilege, and you still aren’t there yet. The only songs you’re allowed to hear are the soft melodies Daddy will sometimes sing to you late at night – they knock you out so quickly. His voice is so sweet and calming. Nothing like you just heard in the video. He only sang loud enough so that you could hear him. After all, he said that you are the only one he truly wants to sing for. 

“Not important?” Seonghwa echoes. He can practically hear Hongjoong ranting from here. “Why would you think that?” 

You don’t answer. Not because you don’t know, or because you’re trying to be rude, but simply because he won’t understand. None of them do. None of them want to.  

All they try to do when they come here is split you two apart. Drive a wedge between you, piss him off on purpose, only to end up getting themselves in trouble and putting you in danger. They don’t care to ask you if you want to be here. They assume. They don’t know. They refuse to know how good it can be here, with Yunho. Unconventional, sure. Dangerous, absolutely. But everything primarily bad that has happened has been due to an outside source. 

Logically though, you know you can’t pin the blame on them for everything. You’re not even mad at them, surprisingly. Moreso frustrated. 

“Did you like music?” Seonghwa asks quietly, staring at his hands in his lap. “Before?” 

You inhale deeply, buying yourself time before speaking. “I don’t remember.” 

Not exactly true, you can still run some known melodies and lyrics off the top of your head, especially the ones from childhood, but to say otherwise wouldn’t serve you well with Yunho. Saying a flat out ‘yes’ would give Seonghwa ammo against him, saying ‘no’ would be an obvious lie. You’re a quick thinker. Clever. 

You know the game. You’re the last-standing player. A lucky pawn. 

Seonghwa’s hands ball up into fists in his lap. 

“You shouldn’t have to give up things you like in order to please him,” he says. “That isn’t how it’s supposed to work.” 

How what is supposed to work, you want to ask. Your jaw clenches, a habit you subconsciously picked up from Yunho. You push the blanket off of your shoulders, straightening yourself to sit taller against the couch. 

If he wants to argue about this, then fine. 

After some deep breaths, you respond, “Daddy takes care of me.” 

It’s final, and your voice is firmer than Seonghwa has ever heard it. A sentence you believe in wholeheartedly, despite everything. That’s what scares him the most. He finally looks over at you, catching the stony gaze you’re throwing at him.  

“I know he does,” he manages to say around the lump in his throat, “which is why I’m here, right?” 

Again, you don’t answer. Your arms cross over your chest, a clear sign that you’re trying to close yourself off from this conversation, from him.  

“But you don’t have to rely on him for everything,” Seonghwa says, keeping his voice soft. Innocent. Like he’s not trying to turn you against the one person that you trust the most. “There are other people who want to help you. Protect you.”

Your eyebrows knit together. “If by ‘people’ you mean Mingi, I don’t need him to help or protect me. He’s done enough.” Your tone is a little snappy, which you think Yunho will forgive you for if he watches this exchange back on the cameras. 

Seonghwa locks up. The abrupt terseness doesn’t offend him at all, but what unnerves him is how rehearsed it sounds. Not defensive. Corrective. Like you’re repeating a conclusion that’s already been reached for you – one that’s been drilled into your head a thousand times over. The words don’t sound like your own, nor does the near-monotone voice you use to articulate them. Each one is obviously and heavily under the influence of Yunho. Possessed. Seonghwa knows he has to play defense now. Not just against you, but your conditioning as well. It’ll be a two against one fight.  

“I didn’t–” He pauses, swallowing hard before trying again. Slower, this time. “I didn’t mean just him.”

You sigh, closing your eyes and resting your head on the back of the couch. “I know who you meant.” 

”Y/N… we’re just worried for you. We want you to know that you can trust us.”

You know, but you don’t believe it. How can you? After finding out what Mingi did? There is no possible way you can trust any of them just because he says you can. And if Seonghwa asks you if you trust him right now, you’ll tell him the truth. 

No. 

Same goes for the rest of them. Trust is too precious a thing, and you’d rather give it to the one who has never lied to you, the one who has taken care of you and made sure you’re safe these past ten months. You can’t give your trust away so easily anymore. If they think you can, then they’re deluding themselves. 

They’re the threat. 

It’s not me you should be worried about, you think bitterly. 

“Why should I trust you?” You counter, focusing on that same loose thread in one of the blankets. “Do any of you trust me?” 

The hesitation that follows is a good enough answer for you: Not at all. You suppose they have good reason not to trust you, but on the same coin, so do you when it comes to them. 

“I know what you all think about me. About him.” Your voice is sharp, meant to cut apart his claims. 

Seonghwa takes a deep breath in, shifting uncomfortably. “We think what’s happening is a very… unique situation. We just want to offer you more support, as friends.” 

An uneasiness draws your arms tighter around yourself. 

“Trust takes time,” Seonghwa continues, still treading lightly. “I’m not expecting you to just… flip a switch and feel safe with the rest of us but… I hope you believe me when I say we all want the best for you.” 

‘The best for you’. Something tells you that that looks different to them than it does to you and Yunho. Their version implies you being torn away from him. Forced to act like he never happened. Like he never cared, nor put forth so much effort and kindness into you. Your mind is so black and white, divided entirely. Daddy protects you. They lie to you. 

Seonghwa’s lying to you right now. 

His eyes avoid yours when he says ‘we all’. Clearly, there are some members who don’t particularly wish you anything but to disappear from their lives as abruptly as you entered. All things considered, you can’t necessarily blame them. Still, deep inside you, though you’ll never admit it to yourself or to anyone else, that dormant and conscious part of you is rather pissed that they haven’t done anything to help you earlier. Because of what? Their careers. It makes you want to double down. Be even better for Yunho, shove it in their faces. Make them see what they’ve allowed to continue for almost a year now, make them aware that they hold some of the blame. And if they see through it, know that you’re doing it on purpose, they need only trace the root of your behavior back to one of their own. 

You may have one foot in the grave, but Mingi had handed Yunho the shovel to dig it in the first place. Without a second thought, either. 

“Have any of you considered that I want to be here?”

Seonghwa’s neck almost snaps from how sharply he turns to you again. You can’t be serious. But you don’t move. You look as if you said nothing, peacefully resting against the couch, inspecting your nails. 

Maybe deep down he knew this could be the case. Especially after what he saw last night in the bathroom between you and Yunho. All the same, he feels like he’s just gotten a bucket of ice water dumped all over him. His skin crawls. There’s a deafening rush in his ears, and a guilt – the likes of which he’s never felt so profoundly – that chokes him. It’s something none of them ever thought of. Never even imagined, actually. 

You don’t want to be rescued. 

His hands interlock, trying to comfort himself as he comes to terms with this. They let it get this far. So far, in fact, that you believe that you are choosing to stay. You don’t understand that you’re only still here because Yunho hasn’t killed you yet. You’re alive because Yunho has allowed you to live. That not beating you isn’t the reward you think it is. That you deserve to be able to listen to music. To go outside, wear whatever you want, see your family, have a normal and loving relationship. To live. The lives he’s snuffed out in the past seemingly mean… nothing to you. They don’t matter. If these haunted walls could talk, the cries and voices of the girls in the past would be screaming at you in rage. In fear. Panic. Get out.  

They’re trapped here forever, but you don’t have to be. 

In the tense silence, the TV automatically switches back to the homepage of YouTube after being left idle for too long. More ATEEZ music video recommendations fill the screen. One of the videos is titled ‘log_logbook’ with a number next to it. The urge to go onto the channel and flick through the videos almost has you reaching for the remote. You want to see more, know more. Maybe a couple of months ago you would have. Today, you stay right where you are. Your hands stay in bounds, your curiosity remains unsatiated. But that’s life.  

Clear that the conversation has been brought to a screeching halt, you watch the screen, waiting for Seonghwa to pick something else, or to turn it off entirely. Instead, he stands. Though he looks like he’d like to say more, he decides against it for the time being, and excuses himself into the guestroom. The door shuts behind him, but not completely. If you needed him, you could simply push it open with ease and without needing to turn the knob. 

A few minutes later, you give up and move too. A blanket and Puppy in hand, you trudge back into the bedroom, also leaving the door open. You sink into the bed, groaning into one of the pillows. From exhaustion? Maybe. From what you said? Debatable. Seeking some form of comfort, as well as wanting to focus on something – anything – else, you turn onto your side and wrap a hand around Puppy’s limp body and start to look him over. There’s still a tiny black spot on his ear from where his tag used to be on his otherwise completely golden faux coat. 

An imperfection. 

The corner of your lip twitches. Your fingers start to pick at it, like you’re trying to remove a tick from skin. Every pinch of your nails pulls at the fabric, intent on ripping out that one discoloration. With it, comes golden ‘fur’ as well. In fact, in order to get the damn thing at the root, you have to pull some of the gold out, just to get it out of the way. Your focus locks in on completing this task for yourself, stubborn to continue until the intended result is gained. 

The more you pick at it, the more lost in thought you become. Your mind takes you back down a familiar path: thinking about the uncertainty of the future. The scenery is always a bit different each time you trail through it, branching off into various directions and scenarios. You replay the conversation you just had with Seonghwa. You remember a time you so desperately wanted them all to like you. To want to be around you. The months you trusted Mingi, the shameful hope you had once of leaving with him, that false love and care you once held just for him, all of it falls to the wayside now. You step over it. You successfully rip out another tiny piece of fur.   

Finally, you pull the last little tuft of black with a sharp inhale, looking between it and the now ragged, misshapen circle where it once was. You blink in stunned silence, needing a moment to fully understand how this happened before you realize. In your mission to extract the flaw, you ended up damaging the surrounding area. 

You wonder if this will get you in trouble. 

Puppy simply stares back at you. 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The rest of the afternoon crawls by. 

You don’t bother to turn the bedroom light on as the sun sets, the light coming from the kitchen is enough to keep the growing darkness in the bedroom at bay. You’ve been replaying the conversation you had with Seonghwa for the past two hours. Sure, you could go to the guestroom and talk to him about how you feel, but you’d rather torture yourself with the classic conflicting thoughts. The same ones that bring out that amplified voice. The one that is just trying to help keep you alive, make sure you’re being good for Daddy. 

Et cetera, et cetera.  

You flip onto your stomach, groaning at the thought of needing to get up and be useful soon. After killing a couple more minutes just by staring blankly at the opened door, you push yourself up, not noticing a shadow drifting down the hallway towards the room. 

Towards you. 

When you lift your head and see Seonghwa there, you yelp in shock, clutching your chest.  

“You scared me.” You state the obvious, laughing nervously. 

The expression on his face is unreadable. Doomed, almost. 

Before you can ask the question, he answers it, “He texted me. Um… I have to help you…” he trails off, looking towards the bathroom. 

Ah.

Right. 

You want to say no, that he doesn’t have to, but what good would it do? Then both of you would get in trouble. You knew he’d have to one of these nights, but you just didn’t expect it to be on the first. As the two of you start to walk, Seonghwa mentions that Yunho will have him help you again tomorrow night as well, before he comes back so that you’re ready for him. Sounds like Daddy just wants to torture him. 

If only you knew. 

Still somewhat untrusting of him, you let him go into the bathroom first, following behind and shutting the door. As if someone would interrupt. He stands awkwardly in the center of the room, unsure of what to do next. You take it upon yourself to start the bath, avoiding eye contact with him as you undress. He doesn’t make a sound. He barely moves. You fold everything neatly, placing the little pile on your side of the counter, next to your skincare products. Then, you step in, wincing at the temperature. A bit too hot, but eventually it’ll cool down. Daddy always knows exactly how far to turn the valve, not too hot but not too cold. Yet another reason to miss him right now. 

Another reason you need him to help you. 

You tap the bottom of your body wash, squeezing some of the content into the water to create bubbles – something to hide yourself behind. Hopefully Daddy doesn’t mind that. Besides, intimate stuff like this should be for his eyes only. It’s almost like a different kind of nudity. Too personal. Exposing. You hug your knees, breathing in the slight steam coming from the water and closing your eyes. It helps prevent panic attacks if you keep your eyes closed during your baths now. Recently though, Daddy has started letting you take showers. Supervised of course, and he joins you more-often-than-not, but you take it as another small reward. You were so pathetically giddy the first time he suggested it. It’s a good memory for you from these last few weeks. A sliver of autonomy, without completely erasing the need for him. 

Your eyes flick over to Seonghwa, who hasn’t moved yet. Did Daddy not explain it to him? Surely, he must have. You pick up the cup from the corner of the tub, wondering if you should just do it yourself. You don’t want to prolong this. 

Finally, he moves. But it’s like his legs are suddenly made out of concrete, each step weighing one hundred pounds. You move your hair behind your shoulders so he doesn’t have to do it himself and tilt your head back. Eyes closed. Your hands ball up into fists under the water. Waiting for it is the worst part. You know it’s coming. The possibility of a few stray droplets running down your face scares you to no end. And after all of this, you know Daddy’s going to want you to wash your face. 

The first time you did so – after he nearly drowned you – he held your hand the whole time. Instead of having you lean over the sink, splashing water on your face, he’d put his hand under the running water and dampened your face that way. He ran a small, clean towel under the faucet when it was time to wash the product off. You only relaxed when he kissed your forehead, breathing that you were all done. ‘Scary part over.’

‘Did so well for me.’

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling like an idiot at the memory. And you snap out of that lighthearted feeling when Seonghwa finally takes the cup from you, holding it under the faucet, and placing his other hand directly on your hairline, making sure nothing will drip onto your face. It warms your heart. 

Daddy told him, you think with a small grin. Of course he did. 

The rest of the bath goes by quite smoothly and quickly. Seonghwa is nothing but gentle with you the whole time. His ears are bright red by the end of it. But he helps you step out, and wraps you in a towel. Skincare goes just as well. He’s meticulous, examining each product that Daddy has bought for you, even quietly complimenting your routine. Once it’s done, you admire how glowy you look in the mirror, not noticing how quiet Seonghwa has become. Rather, quieter than he has been. 

Feeling more refreshed than you have all day, you thank him quietly for his help and start to walk past him, ready to go to the closet to get dressed and then to the kitchen and begin working on dinner. 

Only, he grabs your wrist before you can leave. 

You only have enough time to look down, confirming that that’s what he was doing before he presses your back to him. His lips are right next to your ear. 

“Go wait for me on the bed.” 

Confusion twists your features. It was way too early for you to go to sleep. And how he said it… the phrasing he used is almost identical to how Daddy would say it. 

Seonghwa’s thumb sweeps across your wrist, looking for any reply or movement from you. You don’t mean to disobey an order, but you’re having trouble wrapping your mind around what is actually going on. Your foolish hopes start to rise, thinking that maybe Daddy came back early and is about to surprise you. If so, you need to make sure you were greeting him properly, if only Seonghwa would let go of your wrist. 

“Is Daddy home?” You try to move forward again, but Seonghwa’s grip tightens, pulling you back.  

“Angel,” his tone is firm, but his eyes are pleading, “do as you’re told.”  

He lets go of you then, just as quickly dropping his gaze as well. You move somewhat quickly, still hoping against hope that Daddy came home early and that’s the reason why Seonghwa is acting so tense and weird right now. The colder air of the bedroom hits your face as soon as you open the door, blowing into your eyes for a second. Immediately, you search the space for him. 

No one’s waiting for you. 

Now your heart drops. Your hope slowly turns into something more akin to dread. You think back to what Seonghwa had said not even two minutes ago. Three words, carefully chosen. Said for a reason. 

‘Wait for me’. 

What he’s implying… he can’t do that. Daddy made it clear to him from the very beginning that he can’t do that. Not without him present. Dread crawls up your spine. No amount of disbelief can alter this reality you’ve found yourself in. You can’t convince yourself that everything will be okay. And not just for you, but for Seonghwa as well. If what you think is about to happen does in fact happen, he’ll be a dead man for sure. San pushing you is one thing, Mingi lying is another, but this… 

Have you pissed him off this much…? 

The cameras watch, as they’re meant to. Zooming in close on your fear, the way you’re wringing your hands, nervous and frightened. The small red light remains unblinking. Live. Recording. 

On autopilot, your body moves itself into the center of the bed, kneeling and waiting as you’ve been told to do. Even in the face of impending ruination, you remain obedient. You do exactly as you’re told. Your knees sink into the mattress, and you find yourself wishing you could just fall through and disappear entirely. The bedroom door, still open, beckons you through it with the palpable temptation of escaping this. But you stay completely still. 

Even now, you look for him. You wait for him to casually walk into the bedroom, easing your worries in an instant, to tell Seonghwa he did well and he can go home. 

He doesn’t. 

Instead, Seonghwa emerges from the bathroom, switching off the light and plunging the bedroom deeper into the growing dark. Your heart jumps up your throat while your eyes adjust. The gold light coming down the hallway from the kitchen is your greatest ally right now. He moves in silence, stiffly, like his body is fighting him with every step it takes. You watch his shadow, his figure moving in the dark towards you. 

Once standing at the side of the bed, forefinger and thumb anxiously messing with the hem of his shirt, he speaks again. 

“I’m supposed to, um… ‘check’ you for him,” he says quietly, digging his phone out of his pocket and weakly holding it up as evidence. “He wants me to record it.” 

Oh…oh! 

Unexpected, but definitely better than what you thought was happening. You are, however, surprised. Confused, as well. Why would Daddy ask Seonghwa to check you? Usually that task is for Daddy and Daddy only – at least, so far. Does he even know what to ‘check’ for? Nevertheless, you adjust how you’re sitting and part your legs immediately. Less so because of obedience, and more so because you want to get this over with. Checking is so normal to you, you don’t understand why Seonghwa is so tense about it. He’s done worse with you, after all. 

Unless there’s more to his text exchange with Daddy that he’s not telling you. 

The thought almost makes you close your legs, but Seonghwa wraps his hands around your ankles and starts dragging you down closer to him until your hips are almost hanging off the edge. This action is familiar, especially with him, and you hate to admit that you feel heat blooming in your lower stomach. 

You keep still, lying back and staring up at the ceiling. Honestly the two main things on your mind are your disappointment that Daddy isn’t home early, and your options for what to make for dinner. 

On instinct, your legs threaten to close again when you hear a soft little ding noise coming from Seonghwa’s phone – wordlessly signalling to you that he was now recording. He turns slightly to prop his phone up against the lamp on top of the nightstand, sideways in order to capture everything well. Selfconsciously, he fluffs his hair, hiding his face from his own camera – from himself – and kneels down between your legs. You can feel his breath against your skin, warm as it traverses across your inner thighs. It’s difficult to relax. Everytime you’ve seen him in this position in front of you, he’s driven you up the wall with pleasure. Your hips grind upwards once against nothing, betraying you and revealing your thoughts to him, but he doesn’t draw attention to it like Daddy would. 

His hands smooth up your thighs, fingertips dipping under the towel. Goosebumps rise across your skin, a physical map showcasing exactly how you’re feeling, despite your distrust of him.    

The only thing you do trust when it comes to Seonghwa is that he has nearly equal ability to take you apart just as efficiently as Daddy. 

You bite your bottom lip, your arms instinctually cross over your chest, covering as much as possible. Covering your inappropriate thoughts. But Seonghwa pushes the towel further up, exposing everything to his eyes. For the first time in a long time, you wish it was darker in here. But you hold still. You don’t shy away, and you lay your arms down back by your side. A good little doll for him to move and touch without any resistance. You do, however, tilt your head ever so slightly to the side, making direct eye contact with his phone camera. You haven’t seen yourself like this before, and you absorb as much of the image as possible before you feel a small pressure on the inside of one of your thighs. Without tearing your gaze away momentarily, you obediently part your legs further, allowing him to slot himself in between. You’re dangerously close to draping your calves over his shoulders. You wonder how Daddy would react to that. The thought makes you giggle quietly to yourself – what a troublemaker you are in your imagination. 

It’s not long after that you finally feel another pressure, this one right at your entrance. He doesn’t push in immediately, that’s not what this is. ‘Checking’ usually consists of Daddy making sure you haven’t been touching yourself without permission, and or to check if you’re ready for him at any time. These checks usually come at night, after dinner. Every time you anticipate that Daddy will do more to you, he never does. Something about just knowing you’re always ready to receive him at any time gives him more satisfaction than anything. Knowing that if he wants to, you’ll be prepared at a moment’s notice. All he has to do is what Seonghwa is doing now: lightly trailing his hand up your thigh, while the other traces along your lower lips. Since it’s him though, you take just a little longer than usual to get wet – something that you’re sure Daddy won’t fault you for if Seonghwa reports that back to him. 

Seonghwa can almost hear Yunho’s voice in his head, telling him to take the towel off of you completely, but since he didn’t say to do so in his text, he’s not doing it. Doing this ‘by the book’ makes this a fraction easier. If he asks, he’ll simply say that he didn’t know if he had permission in this case. That seems to be as good an answer as any around here. The rules for them seem to unpredictably evolve with each unnerving visit. More ‘privileges’, as well as the surprising faith he’s placed in Seonghwa. No one really expected that. 

One thing at a time. That’s all he can do. 

His mouth presses into a thin line, looking but not focusing on what his hands are doing in the dim light. His thumb swipes upwards, brushing against your clit and you whimper, though you try to hold any noises back. Your hands hold onto the top of the towel, still wrapped securely around your chest, and you focus on breathing normally. Without any other sounds except for slow exhalations between the two of you, it’s easy for your mind to wander. Ambling towards those memories you keep having with Seonghwa around. You can almost feel Hongjoong holding your hand. You can almost hear Yeosang’s soft praises. All while pressed up against Daddy, knowing that no matter what, he’ll keep you safe through the whole thing. You clench around nothing, wincing at the feeling. 

Your train of thought is momentarily derailed when you feel one of Seonghwa’s fingers prod at your entrance. Naturally, your body tenses for a second at the initial breach, but relaxes soon after. Seonghwa takes it slow, not wanting to hurt you. After all, it’s just a check. There’s no need to rush or go faster for any reason. One more small noise escapes you as he coaxes his finger deeper, curling upwards, and he pauses, eyes flicking up to check that you’re okay. Your body trembles, properly dripping down Seonghwa’s hand as you close your eyes. 

Embarrassingly enough, you’re close. Worst of all, you think he can tell. You’ve worked yourself up so much with the memories, the phantom feeling of what you know he can do to you, how good he made you feel last time, that you’re nearly about to cum. A low, needy moan from you makes him falter momentarily. Your hips buck upwards, wanting to feel his finger reach deeper inside of you, dreaming of his mouth as a mind-numbing addition. 

But he doesn’t linger there, nor take up more time than he believes is needed. He’s done what Yunho has asked him to do, and now to end it. With his other hand, he reaches for his phone, adjusting his grip on it, trying to get the camera to focus on you and aims it towards your core. He slowly drags his finger out, and brings it up in front of his phone, your slick glistening in the dim light. You lie still, trying to stop your bottom lip from pouting so much.  You don’t look at what he’s doing, only focusing on your breathing – which has gotten much heavier than normal. 

The small, dinging sound signals that the recording has stopped, and that the check is over and completed. Seonghwa sends the video off quickly, wanting to get it over with as soon as possible. He lightly presses on the outside of your knee, letting you know that you can close your legs again. You do so and sit up slowly, still holding onto the towel around you. 

“Go get dressed, angel.” Seonghwa instructs, moving out of the way and sitting on the edge of the bed, double, triple checking to make sure he’s sending this to Yunho and Yunho only. He doesn’t need any of the other members – or his manager, god forbid – seeing this by accident. 

You walk briskly into the closet, shutting the door behind you and backing up against it. The flush of your cheeks makes your face hot. The empty feeling in your core is almost impossible to ignore, but you just squeeze your thighs together and force yourself to move on. 

Ugh. How are you going to get through another day and a half like this? The awkwardness alone is enough to make you want to steal his phone and beg Daddy to come home as soon as possible. You dress quickly, glad to now only have to focus on arranging dinner. You’re thinking maybe you’ll make homemade pizza – you haven’t done that in a while. As you pull on one of Daddy’s old hoodies, his familiar scent surrounds you once again. You instantly feel like you can breathe easier now, lungs filling to capacity without difficulty. Nearly similar to when you were first let out onto the balcony. Fresh air. Not all it’s chalked up to be, in the end. 

It’s when you’re pulling on some fuzzy socks that your gaze is drawn to the corner of the closet you had tried to hide from him in. The ghost of your past self, drugged, beaten, afraid lingers amongst the hanging clothes and shoes. Your nose wrinkles at the memory. 

You turn your back on her.  

Comfy and warm in Daddy’s oversized clothes, sweatpant drawstrings drawn as tight as they can be to keep from falling straight off your hips, you open the closet door again and beeline it towards the kitchen. You pass Seonghwa, still staring down at his phone.  

He stares at the contact name as the video takes its time sending, like it’ll change at the last second to somebody else. But, it doesn’t. A small weight lifts off his shoulders. Yunho reads the message within seconds. Shameless. Seonghwa holds himself back from rolling his eyes, but waits anxiously for Yunho to tell him whether or not he did well. His throat closes as that thought crosses his mind: he sounds like you. 

Yunho simply responds by liking the message. Even just that small amount of effort, that miniscule showcasing that he’s passed yet another test, is enough to make Seonghwa’s shoulders relax, not noticing how tense and high they’ve been while waiting.  

He guesses this is how it starts.  

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The rest of the evening is spent in stagnant company. Both of you barely move or speak to each other. You, because you’re slightly embarrassed and generally uncomfortable being alone with him, plan in mind. Seonghwa because of what he just had to do. It’s not so much you he has trouble facing – it’s himself. He lets you wash the dishes, noticing the way your shoulders drop in relief, happy to not have to fight him for your chore, happy to not worry about any – potentially further – retribution from Daddy. You retreat back into your room, needing the safety of your bed, the sheets that smell like him. Something like peace. 

Seonghwa, meanwhile,  lingers in the kitchen like a ghost who doesn’t know where to haunt. 

His phone occasionally pings and vibrates with notifications from the group chat, his manager, Instagram, etc. Always active, always busy. Everyone trying to reach him all at once. His tailbone aches from sitting on the hard kitchen chair for so long, but still, he doesn’t move. Not yet. He’s not exactly eager to go back into that room, to sleep next to you and directly above a loaded firearm. No, he’d rather stay out here a little longer, glancing at the front door every so often whenever a fleeting thought of bolting out of here crosses his mind. He chastises himself for not trying harder, not doing enough to help you; but also for pushing too hard, fumbling his responsibility. 

In a word, he’s exhausted. And it’s only day one. 

He rests his elbows on the table, his face in his hands. An exasperated exhale fights through the gaps between his fingers, heating up his palms and nose.  

Just like he’d do for him if the roles were reversed, Hongjoong interrupts his self-deprecating spiral, albeit unknowingly, with a sudden phone call. Just divine timing. Seonghwa picks up on the second ring, leaning back on the chair. 

“Hey,” he greets, keeping his voice low so you, and or Yunho, don’t try to eavesdrop. “What’s up?” 

“I’m just checking in. Haven’t really heard from you all day, wanted to make sure you’re okay.” Though Hongjoong sounds stable and casual in tone, his relieved sigh gives his inward panic away. 

Seonghwa clears his throat, shifting in his seat. “Yeah, I’m fine. Are you?” 

“Yeah. ‘M good..” 

There’s a pause. Such liars they are. But neither of them will call it out, both holding on for the sake of the other. Anyway, there’s nothing to be said about it when it’s so obvious: they’re both terrified. Nothing new. Business as usual. 

Seonghwa clears his throat again. “I, um…” he hesitates, about to confide in his best friend what Yunho had made him do, but shuts himself up. Thinking, rethinking, looking up at the cameras. Hongjoong waits patiently, only the faint rustling of sheets audible on his side of the call. 

“Nothing,” he shakes it off. He’ll tell him later. “Nevermind.” 

“Hwa–” Hongjoong murmurs, not trying to push him for answers, but wanting to help. 

An internal fight begins in Seonghwa’s head. The two sides battle to be spoken, each consonant a sword, every vowel a shield. A path suddenly split in two, one safer than the other but lacking in honesty. Tell the truth, confide in his best friend, or double down for his distant, multi-eyed audience. Play the role, protect the image. But he can’t bring himself to fully commit to one over the other. So, he forges a new path to bring the conversation through, cherry-picking elements from both conflicting sides. 

“She’s different than last time we saw her.” He says, standing up to move to the guestroom. No doubt your eagle ears will have heard him say ‘she’, a siren call for you to tiptoe to the doorway and try to listen in. Seonghwa closes the door behind him with a soft click, but doesn’t stop there. No, he shuts himself in the connected bathroom, ensuring you don’t hear a thing as he keeps his voice the same volume it had been in the kitchen. He words it carefully, not wanting to invoke Yunho whatsoever. 

“What do you mean?” Hongjoong asks. 

“Like… even more obedient. It’s–” he swallows hard, knowing Yunho may be listening, “–intriguing.” 

Hongjoong bristles, knowing it’s all for show, but nevertheless still jarred at the certain word choice Seonghwa used. At least he can speak candidly in the safety of the dorms. 

“Hm. Well, we can talk more about that later,” he hints subtly, alluding that this conversation will continue in more depth over text after they finish up the call. “Do you need anything?” 

Seonghwa hesitates once again, thinking it over. He needs to go home, more than anything material. 

“No, I think we’re okay. Got enough food and everything.” 

Hongjoong can tell there’s more he wants to say, both of them itching to switch to text. 

“Okay, well just let me know if that changes. I’ll tell the boys you’re alright. I’ll text you.” 

“Okay. Goodnight, Joong.” 

“Goodnight.” 

The bathroom light switches off, and he sits on the edge of the bed, not even waiting another moment to tell him everything. He wanted to the second that your ‘check’ was over, his hand reaching for his phone every five minutes while you prepared dinner. He relays as much detail as he can, replaying the last twenty-four hours to the best of his ability. 

Hongjoong responds accordingly. 

[Joong]: ????????? 

[Joong]: what the fuck

[Joong]: what the fuck?? 

[Joong]: he hasn’t let her listen to MUSIC? 

[Hwa⭐]: knew you’d comment on that

[Joong]: had to. it’s fucked up. all of it 

[Joong]: you have to take a picture of that gun if you can. we need as much evidence against him as possible

[Hwa⭐]: i’ll try… i’ll pretend to drop my phone or something

He imagines the legitimacy of how that could look. He’d need to be quick, sneakily readying the camera before he even drops it, and need to be sure the phone somehow falls under the bed, to make it look convincing. Real. Not suspicious whatsoever. 

[Joong]: but… what is this now? what are they? dating? is that what she thinks is happening?  

[Hwa⭐]: definitely looks like they’re dating if you didn’t know the whole story

[Hwa⭐]: it was eerie

[Joong]: i bet 

[Joong:] so what do we do? still go through with it or…?

At that, Seonghwa considers his options again. The plan is on until he or Hongjoong say otherwise – that’s what they all agreed to. But every time he even briefly thinks of the plan, his throat constricts, forcing him to breathe manually. He tries to chalk it up to nerves, but in his gut he feels like something will go wrong. Anxiety or intuition, he’s not sure. There’s no proof to support either. And anxiety will always be louder than logic…

But how can logic even attempt to save him in a place like this? There’s no stable ground, no flaw in the system, only unpredictability and chaos. Mingi had said you wanted to leave, so what is this? He’s sure you would’ve acted a bit more like yourself with Yunho gone, but you only double down into the role he’s forcing you to play. 

The legality of it all is something else entirely – a monster of its own category. 

If someone kidnaps someone and they want to stay… surely even then, it still must be illegal. Coercive consent, months of traumatic abuse – both psychologically and physically – mount up to create this behavior. This delusion that this is the best place for you. Captivity feels like safety now. Pain feels like love, and suffering means effort. The intense dependence on him needs to be and can be worked on if you’re freed. You’ll come back to yourself over time, recollect your autonomy and independence. Listen to music. Laugh. Be a human again. 

Seonghwa’s thumb hovers over the keyboard on the screen. 

[Hwa⭐]: still a go. 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Seonghwa doesn't even try to sleep. How can he? Under the sheets, beneath the mattress, past the bedframe, a deadly weapon is stored directly below him. A weapon that has killed and will kill again if necessary. Who will be on the receiving end of it next time, he hopes he can control. 

The hours tick by, dragging their feet. You stir occasionally next to him, pulling the blankets up higher, nearly covering half of your face. The darkness closes in around each corner of the bed, reminding him of his sins and failings with every shadow and figure his mind conjures up out of the corner of his eye. 

He doesn’t know you’re awake too. 

You woke up whenever he eventually came in, feeling the bed dip and your sleepy brain automatically thinking that it’s Daddy. But, no. Not until tomorrow morning. Approximately just below thirty hours from now. There wasn’t much light to make you feel safe at the moment, which is partly why you’re awake. Seonghwa, mind elsewhere and tired, forgot to leave a light on for you. Now you’re waiting for something to scare you, to remind you why you shouldn’t sleep without a light source. And sure, you can easily get up and turn one on, but the softer part of you doesn’t want to wake him. Maybe he needs the dark. You’ve been working on this with Daddy – your adaptability. There are too many limits with you, modifications that will be a burden down the road, if the original plan and fantasy work. 

But every distant sound of life within the apartment building is still an intruder, someone nefarious who wants to take you from Daddy. Shapes and shadows create monsters, demons two feet away from you, at the foot of the bed, in the doorway. You stop yourself from reaching out in the dark for Seonghwa, wanting reassurance from anyone that you’re not here alone, even if you’re still miffed with him.  

Instead, to occupy your thoughts, you wonder about the other tenants in the building. You’ve never heard any movement or proof of neighbors from this floor; the sounds are always far away, maybe an indiscernible amount of floors down. The lack of footsteps above also indicated that either you’re on the top floor or there isn’t anyone living above you either. No one above, no one below, and no one to either side. Strange. Odd luck, you suppose. Or, maybe the walls are just supremely thick. This is a luxury building, after all, and those who can afford these types of apartments desire privacy and a good structure to hide behind at night. But the loud laughter and doors opening and closing, conversations drifting further into the building make you think twice. 

You wonder what they’re doing. It must be a Friday or Saturday night, prime time for a night out with friends. Maybe their noise level makes it way up to where you are because they’ve realized no one is above them either. Something deep, hidden away in the back of your mind sighs. You think you’d like friends. You thought you had one in Mingi, only to be proven wrong. Even sometimes naively thinking that the rest of the guys maybe could one day be your friends. But they're not. They hate this. Hate you too, probably. Maybe especially. Your eyes flicker over to Seonghwa before you can stop them – or, more so the back of him. You pull the covers up high to keep warm, he pulls them up to disappear. Neither of you are doing a very good job. 

If he could be completely honest with you, you wonder what he’d say.   

You huff, quiet so as not to disturb him. A small puff of air, escaping into the dark. You’re not going to fall asleep anytime soon, that much is clear. And you’re not against keeping yourself awake if that means you can spend some time tomorrow napping, which will make the day go by a whole lot faster if you’re unconscious for a large part of it. That little lesson was learned all those times you’ve been left here by yourself. You want to just go into the living room and write or draw in your journal – in which, you are very quickly running out of room – or watch a pre-approved movie with the volume on low. Something. Anything to stave off the boredom of waiting. Yunho has taught you a lot, conditioned you quite well, but patience is not something he has been successful in teaching you. 

So, as slowly and quietly as you can, watching Seonghwa for any movements the whole time, you peel the blanket and covers off and swing your feet down to the floor. Tiptoeing to the door, you look back just to see if he’s woken up, blithely unaware that he’s just as awake as you and listening intently, waiting for you to leave. Just as impatient as you. 

He waits until he’s sure you’re not coming back soon. When he hears the television switch on, that’s his cue. Over the span of about ten minutes, he waits still. It’ll look suspicious if he moves right after you leave. Slowly, he covers his phone with the blanket like the tide covering a shell, turning it on underneath and switching quickly to the camera setting. After another couple of minutes, he then stretches his arms, innocently pushing his phone off the bed in his ‘sleep’. The way it falls hits the nightstand on its way down. Perfect. He pretends to wake up, slowly enough to be believable. There’s no telling how good the cameras are in the dark, but he acts as though it is broad daylight. He cannot afford to let his guard down no matter what. Not for a second. Maybe that’s another reason why he can’t sleep – too wired. On high alert. 

He lets his hand search the sheets for his phone, lifting his head up once he’s ‘realized’ his phone isn’t where he thought it was. It’s a subtle but moving performance. Two can play the acting game. His eyebrows furrow in confusion, feeling around in the dark before he leans down over the side of the bed to check the floor. He feels his phone immediately, but moves his hand away in an instant, pretending he hasn’t found it yet. As he moves off the bed, crouching down in front of the nightstand again, he nearly steps on it, narrowly missing it by an inch or less. Finally, in a large sweeping motion, he moves his hands across the floor in a broad ‘search’, successfully nudging his phone further away from him in the process. He pauses before patting the floor and swearing under his breath, really trying to sell it. Even a genuine yawn assists his efforts. But he stops. 

How’s he going to take a picture of the gun in the dark without the flash on his camera? 

Fuck. Should he have waited until the morning? Dropping your phone under the bed twice in one day isn’t that uncommon, is it? In the same place though… 

He’s overthinking, panicking, trying to think quickly. 

Okay, breathe, first of all. What would he actually do if he couldn’t find his phone? 

Turn on a light. 

He huffs, in mock annoyance that he can’t find his phone and straightens himself, now searching blindly for the lamp. Fumbling only momentarily, suddenly this side of the room bursts with soft, golden light. He leans closer to the bed, so his shoulders block what his hands are doing underneath. It’s so quick he prays he got a picture accurately. They’d have to forgive him if it turned out slightly blurry. He yanks the phone out from under the bed and throws it on top of his pillow, turning the light off again. He hopes the cameras can’t pick up how badly he’s shaking from nerves and adrenaline as he climbs back under the covers. With the brightness setting on the lowest it can possibly be, and bated breath, he looks at the picture. 

It’s good. More importantly, it’s admissible. 

Without further delay, he sends it straight off to Hongjoong, once again triple checking that he’s sending it to the right person. Once done, he buries his face in the pillow to muffle the sound of a relieved sigh. The TV is paused in the other room. Maybe you saw the light turn on, indicating that Seonghwa is awake as well. Unbeknownst to each other, both of you freeze, unsure of what to do. Neither wants to check on the other, but Seonghwa knows he has to. Yunho will want him to go check on you, make sure you’re okay out there ‘by yourself’, as if Seonghwa isn’t one room over. He gives himself another minute – two, if he’s being honest – before dragging himself out of bed again, slipping his phone into his pocket.

He runs a hand through his hair in a lazy effort to fix it as he walks down the short hallway, finding you wrapped up on the couch, your eyes following him as soon as he comes into view. You’ve turned on the guestroom light, closing the door about halfway so the glare wouldn’t affect the television screen as much.  

“Can’t sleep?” He asks, shoving his hands in his pant pockets. 

You know you’re supposed to verbally answer him, but you just shake your head in response. A bit childish of you, but you’ve been enjoying the movie and the alone time. 

Seonghwa clears his throat and rolls his shoulders back, looking towards the TV to see what you’ve been watching. He recognizes the animation style instantly, a memory of having seen this exact shot before as a child. 

“‘Beauty and the Beast’?” 

You shift uncomfortably. “Mhm.” 

Even though you know you’re probably going to be in trouble for not speaking to him properly, you just can’t bring yourself to do it. You want to be alone. You want Daddy home. Every passing hour is both torture and solace, knowing that it’s one hour closer to him coming back. 

Likewise, that same countdown has been ever present in Seonghwa’s mind as well. 

It’s a cruel irony that you’re watching this movie specifically. 

Belle trading her freedom without hesitation, the Beast raging, then softening. The slow, insidious narrative that kindness after cruelty is proof of love. That possession and captivity have no consequences. Belle comes back to save him, choosing to stay with him at the end. Why? Because she loves him. The perfect fairytale love story to validate everything you’ve been taught. The perfect ending.  

To you, he’s sure you see him as Gaston. Perhaps not in personality, but rather in mentality. How he views you and Yunho together as something to be ended, something appalling and horrible. An outsider, bent on splitting you two apart, mind filled with falsehoods that Yunho is hurting you, that you’re here against your will. Maybe that was right before, but not anymore. You’re Belle, and you want to stay with the Beast. 

Seonghwa wonders when his attempt to end this will be the cause of his death too.  

His stomach turns. 

“Sir?” You call to him, softly. 

He blinks away his thoughts as best he can. “Yes?” 

“Do you wanna watch with me, or…?” You glance up at him, inwardly hoping he says ‘no’. Luckily for you, he doesn’t wish to stay much longer. 

“Oh, no, I– I just wanted to check on you, and um…” he looks over towards the door that leads out to the balcony. “Apparently it’s supposed to be snowing right now.” 

At this, you perk up. 

“Really?” 

Seonghwa nods, walking over to the blackout curtain covering the large windows. You make a small noise from behind him. 

“Daddy said not to open the curtains.” You remind him in a hushed tone. 

“I won’t,” he reassures, “I’ll just peek from the side, don’t worry.” 

You don’t know if that’ll slide, but you watch his slender fingers move the curtain just slightly. He presses his cheek against the wall, sighing. His eyes wander upwards, towards the sky, following random flakes float down to the city below until they’re out of view, some of them coating the railing of the balcony outside. It’s a peaceful sight. Almost enough to calm him. 

“Is it?” You quietly ask. 

He doesn’t answer you verbally either. He just takes his phone out of his pocket and begins to record the snowfall. A full minute. Then he stops it, and walks over to you, handing you his phone. 

“See for yourself.” He says.

You can’t help but smile at what you see in the video. It’s been so long since you’ve seen snow, especially thick flakes such as these. They fall in their thousands – millions, more likely, raining down atop the city. Just the right consistency for building snowmen, snowball fights and forts, sledding, angels. Your toes curl in your socks underneath the blanket, knowing how cold it must be outside, and how warm you are in here. The video restarts automatically and you reluctantly lift the phone, intent on giving it right back to him, but he stops you. 

“It’s okay. You can keep watching it.” 

He sits on the coffee table in front of you, careful not to block the TV from your view. A temporary seat as he lets you see the world outside again, with no time limit. This is better, less overstimulating than actually being outside. You’ll have to tell Daddy that this is a good first step towards that. 

Seonghwa watches the childlike wonder and distant longing evident in your expression, which he knows you’ll never admit to. 

“We have this thing that shapes snow into little ducks,” he says, seeing the reflection of the snow in your eyes. “It’s really cute.” 

You look up at him, almost excitedly. “Really?” 

He nods. “Maybe I can show you sometime.” 

You don’t reply right away, watching the last few seconds of the video one more time. 

“Yeah,” you murmur, “maybe.” 

It takes a lot of discipline to give his phone back. He sets it down next to him on the table, but keeps his hand covering it as if it’ll escape. For a moment, neither of you say anything. You glance between him, his phone, and the TV until settling your gaze on your lap. It hits you late that you may have been behaving badly just now. You’re not supposed to get this excited about anything outside of these walls. Not yet. And definitely not without Daddy’s permission. A switch flips in you, and the polished, quiet, obedient version of yourself takes over.  

You smooth the blanket over your knee, like it’ll smooth over everything.  

“What time is it?” You ask out of the blue. 

Seonghwa blinks, his brain rebooting for a second before he taps his phone. “Three… I should probably go back to bed.” 

“Yeah,” you repeat. Your chin drops and you hug your arms around yourself. The blanket slips off your shoulder, but you don’t make any move towards fixing it. 

“Gonna finish your movie?” He asks, rising to his feet. 

You nod twice, eyes following his phone as he lifts it from the table and pockets it again. You look away too quickly. He notices. All he wants to do is throw open the stupid blackout curtains, let you watch the snow for as long as it lasts, until the very last flake falls to the ground. But he can’t. And he knows he can’t. More importantly, he knows what will happen if he does act on this impulse, this outburst of humanity.  

“I’ll–” He clears his throat. “I’ll be in the room if you need anything.”

You don’t look up, hugging your knees. “Okay.”

Seonghwa struggles to take a deep breath in. The apartment feels different at night… smaller, heavier, like the walls are listening harder than usual. The witching hours in which Yunho is most likely to be watching. Listening. Waiting. 

“It’s supposed to keep snowing until tomorrow evening,” he says, voice low. 

You stiffen.

“Oh,” you murmur. After a second, you add, “That’s nice.”

Seonghwa’s chest tightens painfully. 

“Maybe I can ask Yunho if you can–” he starts, but you swiftly cut him off. 

“No, sir. I’m not ready to go outside yet.” You recite. 

Something inside Seonghwa snaps before he can control it. The mask of his compliant, fake persona slips. “You only think that you’re not because he told you that.” He whispers.

You jump, startled at his outburst, but pissed off more than anything else. How the hell does he know how you think? Or how you feel? He doesn’t know anything about what you’ve been through, not the slightest clue on how Daddy really treats you. Nothing. He’s putting inedible words in your mouth. They taste vile, impossible to digest. You don’t want to go outside, what is so hard to understand about that? You should have known he’d place the blame on Daddy. Again. They always do. They always will. 

Your eyes narrow, looking up at him defiantly. 

“You should be more careful with what you say,” you whisper back, never breaking eye contact with him. “He’s pretty good at silencing people.” 

Seonghwa nearly collapses under the weight of your words. His heart slams against his ribs once before stilling, utterly rattled. You turn away from him, picking at your nails as if you hadn’t said anything at all. Never has Seonghwa ever thought something like that would be said by you. Perhaps that’s why it cuts him so deep, so sharply.  

He nods once, even though you’re not looking anymore, and quickly disappears into the room again.

The click of the door shutting behind him sounds louder than it should. Rules be damned. 

You sit there for a long moment after he’s gone. Long enough for your arms to loosen around your knees, just slightly, like they’re getting tired of holding you together. Weaker over time instead of stronger with practice. 

And in your weakness, your traitorous eyes drift to the edge of the curtain.

Though you don’t move nor touch it, you imagine the cold anyway. The way it would sting your lungs, freeze your feet, redden your cheeks. Your fingers curl into the fabric beneath you as somewhere deep in your chest, buried under months of obedience and fear and routine, something restless shifts. Uncomfortable, unwanted, and awake yet again.

And just when you thought you’d successfully beaten her down. 

You swallow hard, breathing borderline erratically as you feign calmness. Something like normalcy and innocence. One of your joints cracks as you shift, physically trying to dispel this dangerous feeling. 

Dammit, Seonghwa, you think. In your frustration, you want to follow him into the bedroom, demand that he stop trying to get inside your head, stop being nice to you, stop showing you the snow. 

You’d tell him you know all about their deceitful charade to regain Daddy’s fragile trust, watch his pretty eyes go round in shock, sit in your smug knowledge that Mingi fucked up by telling you such sensitive information.  

But you don’t move. You blindly find the remote again, and soon the background music of the movie quietly swells through the room. Belle’s beautiful voice settles your heartbeat and after a while, you let yourself lean back against the couch. 

The story continues, and you know the end. 

You disregard the snow. 

The woods are much harder to forget.  

[end of part 10].  

[jjongsho]

WHAT AN AMAZING GIFT!!!

Chapter 10 on Maknae Line concept photo drop day!! So perfect!

Thank you author-nim!!!!🙏

[sangis-puppy]

The Standard

pairing: best friend!Jongho x fem!reader

genre: smut (with more plot than intended oops, not insane levels of plot but still)

word count: 11.3k (listen....i'm sorry)

summary: Extremely tired of terrible first dates with people you meet on dating apps, you drink away some of your annoyance at game night, and end up revealing some thoughts about your best friend's hands you hadn't ever meant for him to hear. Now that it was out in the open, you try your best to move forward as if it never happened. Jongho, however, has some follow-up questions.

warnings: hands hands hands galore, spanking (ass and pussy), fingering, thigh riding, choking, minor finger sucking, slight overstimulation(?), bdsm elements, orgasm control (if you squint), 'Sir' title is used, Jongho calls reader: sweetheart and baby, light dacryphilia, i think that's it? If i miss something lmk!

author's note: firstly, shout out to the hard thoughts FF anon who somehow prophesied this because this was always my plan and somehow you fucking guessed it lmaoooo I hope you’re satisfied with it~ secondly, sooooo this one became a behemoth accidentally lmao, more plot than I intended, but it felt necessary and I hope you all feel that way too <3 we're 75% through isn't that wild??? and its even funnier my biases are last but that's also a very me thing to do LMAO, gotta end with a big BANG but that's neither here nor there. I hope the wait was worth it <3 Six down, 2 to go! Happy reading!

series masterlist | main masterlist

You groan as you rouse from sleep, an unwelcome pressure in your temple as your eyes open. You instantly recognize Jongho's room, the place you usually end up after a night of drinking way too much. The man himself was nowhere to be seen, but you see the blankets and pillow on the ground from where he must've gone to sleep last night. You don't remember even walking into the room last night, just how fucked did you get?

Well, you regained enough fine motor skills to get out of bed albeit a bit slowly, so it couldn't have been too bad.

You yawn as you stand up slowly, stretching yourself out before you head to the bathroom to brush your teeth and throw some water on your face. As you're drying your face off you hear the familiar sounds of activity downstairs and you're sure the others in the 'too-drunk-to-leave' brigade are also up and probably starting on breakfast. You look over your oversized shirt and shorts someone, most likely Jihyo, changed you into last night and decide it was presentable enough to wear to breakfast. It's not like you haven't worn something like this around them before. As you make your way downstairs, the smell of coffee and the sounds of chatter get louder.

"Morningggg." You greet everyone with a tired smile as you look to see who's up already.

Spread around the kitchen were Jongho, Wooyoung, Seonghwa, Jihyo, Nayeon, and Jiwoo. The three girls smile big and immediately head over to give you good morning hugs.

"Good morning, girly! How are you feeling? You got a bit smashed last night." Nayeon asks, pulling away from her hug to look over your face.

"I know I went a little hard but I had to after that fucking disaster of a date. A whole glass of red wine. On my white dress!" You recall, some annoyance making its way back into your tone as you remember the date you went on last night.

It had been so horrendous from the jump that you ended up leaving early to come to the game night you originally planned to skip. Not only did he speak only about himself, he had some rather...interesting hobbies that you'd rather not recall in this moment. He seemed nice enough on the app but as per usual, once you give them a chance in person, the sparks never fly. It was a routine you were getting very tired of. You were one more date away from just giving up on the idea entirely and living a life of solitude with a handful of cats.

"You told us. Five times." Wooyoung chimes in from his spot by the coffee machine, frowning at Seonghwa when he elbows him in the side, "What? I'm just saying, I don't want to get her started before she goes on another 5-minute tangent about- Ow!"

Wooyoung stops entirely when Jongho jabs him in the ribs with a glare. Wooyoung pouts but doesn't continue his sentence, instead turning back to the window and grumbling to himself. The girls around you share a look and you feel like you're missing something.

"What is it?" You ask as you eye the three girls standing near you, none of them meet your eye except for Jihyo who has a sympathetic look on her face.

Your confusion only deepens when Jongho excuses himself from the kitchen to go shower, his walk out of the room a bit more hurried than it should be considering the time.

"Great job, Wooyoung. It looked like she didn't remember and you had to go say something." Seonghwa grumbles into his mug before taking a sip of his coffee.

"I'm sorry, I just didn't want her to start up before I had my coffeeeee." The younger man whines with a pout and you cut into the conversation then.

"Anyone wanna fill me in here? What the fuck did I say last night?" You ask as you look around the room and all five people in the kitchen share looks with each other.

Your stomach sinks. How bad could it have been for your best friend to vacate the kitchen once it's brought up?

"Oh no, honey it isn't that bad! Nothing you can't move past, I just worry how you'll feel once you know." Jihyo reassures you when she sees the look on your face.

The girls lead you to the island, sitting you down on a stool before sliding you a cup of coffee that Nayeon brewed just the way you like ahead of time. You take a short sip before turning your attention to everyone still in the room.

"So," Jihyo starts, "Do you remember telling us about your date last night?"

You think back a bit before you slowly nod your head.

"Do you remember what you said about the apps you've been using?"

You think again and the memory is a bit fuzzy, so you give her a lukewarm shrug.

"Okay, I see where the lapse begins. So, after you told us about the date, you complained about how shitty the dating pool is on your dating apps. How all your dates are either dull or weird and you were growing tired of even using the apps anymore. You started talking about swearing off the apps and having a personal vendetta against the CEO of Hinge." Jihyo says, recalling the hazy memory for you.

Jiwoo giggles a bit to your left as she thinks about how dramatic you were being.

"Okay? That's not out of the normal for me?" You reply, raising a brow.

"Let me finish." Jihyo takes your hand and that sympathetic look returns to her gaze, making your stomach sink yet again.

This is probably where it gets bad.

"You started talking about none of them could even fuck well. Not equipped to satisfy you and you had to send some of them home out of pure annoyance mid-fuck. How one of them didn't know how to finger correctly..." Jihyo trails off and you nod as you squeeze her hand.

This still wasn't too off base for something you'd share with the group anyway.

But then she continues.

"...How you wish they had hands more like Jongho's."

It's like someone's poured a bucket of cold water on you. You tense up and go completely still, brain coming to a screeching halt as Jihyo's words replay in your head over and over.

No...there's no way you let those inner thoughts out. No way in hell. You had gone on rants to Jihyo about how nice Jongho's hands were, but from the standpoint of just really appreciating a good pair of hands and wondering offhandedly how he used them behind closed doors— but you've never said any of it to any of the boys for very obvious reasons.

"How Jongho's hands were...soft yet calloused, very good grip, perfect for choking..."

You groan as you cover your face, heat flooding your cheeks as Jihyo keeps talking.

"A nice weight that would work well with spanking...how he could probably finger fuck someone to high heaven and how he'd be a middle and ring finger kind of guy...then you grabbed his hand and started comparing your sizes and whining about why couldn't your dates be...more like him." Jihyo finishes and the kitchen is dead silent as horror consumes you.

You want to die. You want the ground to open and swallow you up. You wanted to rewind time and knock the teeth in of drunk you because what the fuck?

"And none of you tried to shut me the fuck up!?" You snap at all of your friends in the room and the boys hold their hands up in defense.

"We were playing a game on the other couch!" Seonghwa explains, and Wooyoung nods in agreement.

You turn to your girls who all smile at you sheepishly.

"I tried to get you to stop talking, but you started getting pouty about how I kept cutting you off and you wanted to finish your rant." Jiwoo speaks up and the two other girls nod in agreement to her story.

This was it. You were gonna have to skip town and entirely change your identity. No way in hell can you face Jongho knowing you did all of that while he was sitting right next to you.

"But if it makes you feel better Jongho didn't get weird about it! He just let you rant then said you clearly had too much and needed to get to sleep, so he brought you up to put you to bed." Nayeon says, rubbing your back as you drop your head to the countertop and start gently smacking your forehead against it repeatedly.

"Yeah...?" You ask hopefully, pausing your assault on your own forehead to look at her.

Jongho wouldn't ever make fun of you for something like this, but it was still really embarrassing knowing you got so wasted you let out inner thoughts that were meant only for the girls.

"How can I face him after this?" You groan, the thought making your face grow unbearably hot.

"Like you always do. You were so drunk, he'll probably brush it off if you act like it meant nothing. So just pretend it's nothing." Jiwoo suggests, joining Nayeon in rubbing your back.

You wanted to run out and back to your apartment but your clothes were still in Jongho's room and the thought of traversing the city in shorts that barely covered your ass wasn't appealing. Whether you like it or not, you need to go back to his room and change.

"I'm...gonna get dressed and head out. I need to die about this in the comfort of my own bed." You sigh as you stand up and start heading for the stairs.

If you're lucky, he'll still be showering and you can be gone before he even gets out.

"Text us when you're home!" Jihyo calls after you.

"You got this, girl! It'll be fine!" Nayeon calls as well as you disappear upstairs.

The kitchen is silent until your footsteps have entirely faded away.

"She's gonna spiral about this later." Jiwoo sighs quietly once she's sure you're out of earshot.

"Oh, absolutely." Wooyoung agrees as Seonghwa sighs.

Upstairs, you're changing back into your thankfully washed dress from your date as quickly as you can. You're gathering your things into your purse when the door swings open and in walks the very man you're trying to avoid.

Jongho. In nothing but a towel.

You two lock eyes and freeze. Small droplets were still running down his collarbone to his toned chest, his hair messy as he'd been ruffling it dry with a towel when he opened the door. Your eyes follow more droplets down to his hips, the beginning of a happy trail that led right to his—

Your eyes snap up as you force your thoughts to come to a hard stop.

No. You weren't going to think about that. Not right now.

"Oh, I thought you'd still be down there, sorry." Jongho apologizes, crossing his arms over his chest for some semblance of decency.

You quickly turn to face the wall, squeezing your eyes shut but the image of his soft, dewy skin was burned into your eyelids.

"No, I shouldn't have come back in here, I knew you were showering. I just thought I could get out in time, I'm sorry." You reply a bit stiffly, trying to keep your head on straight but the room was starting to feel suffocating.

Your embarrassment and shame were morphing into a feeling that spread into your chest uncomfortably. You needed to get away from Jongho immediately, at least until this isn't all so fresh. You hear Jongho make his way to the dresser and take the chance to make a break for it since the doorway was now clear.

"See you later! Thanks for letting me sleep in your bed!" You ramble over your shoulder, refusing to spare another look in his direction as you hurriedly walk to his stairs and begin descending.

Jongho turns to watch you dash out of his room, an unknown feeling blossoming in his own chest as he recalls the night and the questions it made bounce around in his head.

You had no way of knowing what you set in motion with your drunken words, but the next few days are spent trying to act normal in group chats and avoiding directly messaging Jongho. You hated feeling so awkward, but the embarrassment hasn't died down enough for you to even pretend things were normal between you two.

Jongho is the one who messages you first, four days after the damning night that ruined everything (in your mind).

jjongbear: hey, i found your charger in my room, think you left it when you were here last

You knew this already, having to run to the store to get a shitty short cable one to suffice until you had the guts to face Jongho and get your reliable one. You were still trying to gather the guts in question, though the option of skipping town was still appealing.

Alas, your friends would jump you if you ever disappeared on them without a trace, so instead you force yourself to reply to Jongho.

you: oh did i? i didn't notice! sorry about that jjongbear: no worries, i don't mind holding onto it. did you want to come grab it this weekend?

Fuck.

You groan out loud as you flop back onto your back, dreading the idea of facing the man who had been plaguing your thoughts for the past few days— but perhaps it was time to face the music. You can only avoid him for so long; he's still your best friend, and like Jihyo said he's been acting like his typical self. You were the one making it awkward, if anything Jongho seems to be trying to move forward while you were stuck on it.

So with the decision to pretend nothing happened and move forward as well, you reply to him.

you: yeah! i got some errands to run but i can come saturday evening if you're free? jjongbear: yeah ill be here, see you then

You toss your phone onto the bed, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes and groaning softly. Even with the mental choice of moving forward, your heart still pounds at the thought of seeing Jongho for the first time since everything happened. You wish you were as nonchalant as some of your friends, but you were never the type to not be haunted when something embarrassing happened. You still thought about things that happened during your childhood if you let your brain wander too much when you were settling down to sleep.

Needing a second opinion, your hand flies out to grab your phone and you dial up Jihyo, praying she'd be free to talk.

"Hey, Y/N! What's up?" Jihyo's voice comes out of your phone after a couple rings.

"I'm going to pick up my charger from Jongho's place on Saturday and I can't stop freaking out about it. Please make me stop freaking out." You whine into the receiver, turning onto your side on your bed and staring at the wall.

"Babe, you're just going to get a charger, it won't take longer than like 2 seconds! There's nothing to stress about." Jihyo tries to reassure you, but you think of Jongho opening his front door and a soft whine leaves your throat without you realizing.

"Looking him in the eye is gonna be so hard."

"Because you want to fuck him?"

Her words make your brain record scratch as you sit up quickly.

"What? No, no I don't!" You instinctively deny, but Jihyo's statement has your thoughts racing.

"Girl." Jihyo deadpans, her tone the flattest you've ever heard it.

"No, I'm serious I've never thought of that before!" You reply, desperate to make her believe you because truthfully, you haven't.

Jongho was your squishy baby bear best friend, why would you ever think about him in that light? Sure he has nice hands, but that thought never even came to mind until a few weeks ago when he was absentmindedly rubbing your thigh during a hangout. It was completely innocent— Jongho had a bit to drink, and he was slightly more affectionate when buzzed and you just so happened to be in range.

But that was it! He just had nice hands, and they felt nice caressing your thigh through your stockings. Though...he is easy on the eyes, and the way he always puts a hand on your lower back when he's leading you around is nice. There was also that one time he pulled you against him so a passing cart wouldn't hit you when you were in a store— that stuck in your head for a while because he felt sturdy under your hands, which ended up on his chest, and you've never thought of what may lie beneath his outfits that never revealed much skin—

"You're thinking about it now, aren't you?" Jihyo's voice cut into your thoughts.

Oh.

Oh.

You were. You were thinking about it.

"I..." You trail off, not sure what to do about the heat in your face and stomach.

"Finally out of denial?" Jihyo asks, you can hear the small smirk on her lips.

"I've never thought of him like that before." You repeat, but your tone is softer, weaker.

The certainty in your voice wavering as your mind starts to gently spiral.

"But now you have. Y/N, seriously think about it. Would you fuck Jongho? Think. Don't reply instinctively. Think."

You let the question hang in the air as you ponder it the way Jihyo wants you to.

Jongho fucking you? His hands on your body, holding you down, flipping you around, choking you, feeling his sturdy chest with no fabric buffer between you two— Your brain digs up that image of a still wet Jongho in only a towel from a few days ago, lightly tanned skin glowing as he dried his hair with a towel, and you feel a familiar dull throb between your legs.

Shit. You liked the thought. You did want it. You wanted to fuck your best friend.

"I shouldn't." You answer after a long period of silence.

An answer that wasn't direct, but Jihyo knew you well enough to read between the lines.

"Says who? Our friends are hot, it's not insane to be attracted to them, but the more you deny it the worse it'll burn in you. You're better off accepting it because then you can begin working through it and potentially past it."

"You sound like you're speaking from experience." You raise a brow, lying back on your bed and mulling over this newfound revelation.

"I am. I used to be really attracted to Wooyoung but I moved past it after a while. You can do the same with Jongho, it'll just take a bit and I'd rather you not to have to suffer as long as I did." She confesses and your jaw drops.

"What!? When?"

"Like a year ago? Again, I've worked through that already so I'm cool now."

"Wow...I had no idea. You hid it so well." You hum, thinking back to see if there was any signs you could've seen, but you come up short.

"Well, when he went on his little sex journey I realized I really didn't wanna be a notch in his belt. So I got over it pretty fast after that." She chuckles softly and you make a sound of realization.

There was a point a year or so back that Wooyoung decided to be in his, as he put it, "hoe phase". He wasn't being reckless, but he was looking for new experiences, and boy did he get them and then tell all of you the nitty gritty details. These days he's chilled out a bit though, not really wanting to date.

"Anyway, listen, now that you've realized it, it'll get better. I'll coach you through this. When you see him this Saturday it'll hit you hardest, so keep the visit short if you can, but not weirdly short. You need to keep treating him the way you always have."

You nod intently, as if Jihyo could see you, but she keeps going anyway.

"Ideally, a game night would've been the next time you see him so there's others to be a distraction, but with seven housemates someone will likely be home when you go. My gut says it'll probably be Hwa, so you won't really be alone. Keep that in mind and you'll feel much better going into this."

"Does it have to be this hard?" You whine as you rub your temple with two fingers.

"Unless you plan to confess and maybe fuck him, yes."

You balk at that, eyes shooting wide open, "H-Huh?"

"That's what I thought." Jihyo laughs as you sigh heavily, "Now here's some tips to keep your cool when you visit."

You and Jihyo spend an hour on the phone coming up with a game plan for making sure your charger pick up is something you can survive without imploding on the spot from embarrassment or nerves.

You try to recount every tip and trick in your head as you approach the door of Jongho's place on Saturday like you agreed, but it was different being here on his front step instead of picturing it while on the phone. Your heart is starting to pick up speed as you ring the doorbell.

You'd deny it if anyone accused you, but you did spend just a little bit longer than usually picking out what to wear, applied a little lip gloss, made sure your hair looked how you like it. Not for Jongho, of course. Your confidence is better when you feel you look good so that's why you did it. That's what you told yourself as you pulled out a shirt with a precariously low neckline and the shorts you felt best accentuate your legs and ass. Per Jihyo's advice you also took two shots before making your way over, something to help settle your nerves a bit but not affect your decision-making.

You fiddle with the ends of said shorts as you wait, thankful the blazing summer sun has mostly set and a light breeze is running over your warm skin. It brought a bit of peace to you. Peace that is immediately lost when the front door swings open and reveals the very man who has been terrorizing your thoughts for a week.

Choi Jongho. In a loose black t-shirt and athletic shorts.

"Hey." He smiles at you like he always does and you have to will your palms not to grow clammy as you return his smile.

"Hey, Jongho. How's it going?"

You glance down at his hand and see the charger you're here for isn't in it. A small part of you hoped he would just hand it to you at the door but it seems fate wasn't feeling too kind to you in this moment.

"I'm fine, happy the weekend is here." Jongho replies, turning and walking back into his living room with the front door wide open.

He expected you to follow him inside like you always did when you came over. So you do it, despite the nerves starting to simmer under your skin. You close and lock the door behind you as you give yourself a quick mental pep talk.

It's a quick pick-up. You got this. Jihyo prepared you well.

Jongho starts heading upstairs and you follow him, noting how quiet the usually busy house is.

"Where is everyone?"

"Seonghwa, Woo, and San went to a bar. Yeosang I'm not too sure, but he's been gone all day. Mingi and Yunho dragged Hongjoong to some arcade, I only got out of it because I told them you were coming over tonight for your charger."

A pit forms in your stomach as your body robotically follows your best friend into his bedroom. Another mental reassurance poofing into thin air as it sinks in that you and Jongho are the only ones within these four walls.

Focus. Get the charger, leave the home. It's that simple.

You shake your head gently to bring yourself back into the moment and look over to see Jongho grabbing your charger off his desk. He comes over to you, holding his hand out for you to take it. You begin thanking him as you grab the charger out of his hand, but your words die in your throat when the moment your hand starts retreating to your side, Jongho's now free hand moves forward to gently wrap around your wrist.

Your throat goes dry as you watch where he's grabbed you, trying to wrap your brain around how his thumb is rubbing right over your pulse point.

"Can I ask you something?" Jongho asks, his voice soft, low, dangerous for your psyche as you've never heard him like this before and it was awakening something in you.

You nod your head slowly, lips useless in any attempt to form words. All your brain can focus on is the taunting yet soothing circles being rubbed over your pulse point— your traitorous heart picking up speed and you're sure Jongho can feel it under his thumb. Your eyes stay on his hand, trailing over a tantalizing, prominent vein that runs from his middle knuckle to his wrist.

"What you said last weekend. The stuff about my hands. People say drunk words are sober thoughts, but I want to hear it from you. Did you mean it?"

You can feel Jongho's stare on your face as heat floods your cheeks and your brain scrambles for any sort of tip or advice Jihyo had given you that could help in this moment— but thinking was getting hard, especially when Jongho takes a step towards you, starting to close the distance between you and him.

You swallow slowly, willing your scattered mind to come up with something to say in response, but your tongue lies useless in your mouth, refusing to move as your breathing quickens ever so slightly.

"You like my hands? You've thought about them...salaciously but in a general way? Or," Another step closer, "On you?"

Every situation you meticulously calculated in your head, every outcome you could've foreseen coming. None of them came to this. A direct questioning of your words. With how nonchalant Jongho had been through group chat texts and even the morning after, you were certain he would've avoided bringing it up again.

But just like you had a week to think on it, so did Jongho. While your thoughts went toward aversion after the fact, Jongho went the other way. At first, he ignored your words— you were clearly plastered and being a chatterbox as you usually are when drunk, but then those words kept repeating in his head when he laid down in his room late at night.

If you had these thoughts, what else had you thought of with him? Did you think about his hands on you? Fingers in you? Why did these thoughts excite him? He's known you for so long that he, too, hadn't thought of you beyond being his closest friend, but when he lets his mind wander to...closer relations, he's shocked to find he wouldn't mind having you under his hands— under him.

The revelation spins in his head for days, not willing to share his internal plight with any of his other best friends because it didn't feel right to. One night, he finds his hand creeping under the brim of his boxers and instead of the fantasies he usually indulges in, your face pops into his mind. It's then that he starts entertaining the idea of putting the ball back in your court.

Jongho knew you wouldn't put anything else out on the table. You were panicked, horrified, you wouldn't talk about this ever again if you could avoid it. So last night, as he lay awake again, mind wandering to you and your words and if you'd like the things he could do to you with just his hands— he officially decides he would be a bit more forward. If he didn't do it now, he never would, and so here he is.

Hand on your wrist, feeling your racing heart, watching your reactions closely as he closes the space between you both little by little. If he saw even a hint of discomfort he would back off, but even with you shying in on yourself, you don't show your usual signs of uneasiness when you wanted out of something. You exude nervousness, but that just makes him want it more. While he would accept a rejection, he really hoped he had read you right, and you'd let him indulge in the thoughts that have been flooding his mind.

"I..." You trail off, trying to figure out how you felt but truthfully, the only thing you can register is your thundering heart and the warm, earthy scent of Jongho swirling around you as he gets closer.

No amount of prep from Jihyo could've prepared you for the situation you find yourself in.

"Would you want to confirm your theories? See if you're right? You can say no, but if you're making me your standard, don't you want to see if it's a good standard?" Jongho continues, taking another step closer to you.

You can feel the warmth radiating off his skin at this distance. It was hard to think of anything besides the man who is touching you so gently, but so intimately, despite the only contact being on your wrist. All game plans fizzle into nothing, tips and tricks fade to dust.

Had Jongho become your standard? Is that what you did unconsciously? You blink slowly, your thoughts moving like they're swimming in molasses as your eyes stay on his black t-shirt. He can't be your standard if you hadn't tried him, can he? At best, he's a fantasy, or perhaps a hypothesis— because you hadn't had him.

What you have had is many men disappoint you recently, not one who could put their money where their mouths are despite talking a big game. A game Jongho was spitting, albeit in a much milder, seductive way. Who's to say he wouldn't strike out like the others?

Another outcome you didn't think of until right now in this moment. Perhaps it's the influence of the shots still circulating in your veins, but your next words come out before you can stop them.

"What if you just disappoint me too?"

Your brain catches up a second too late, and your eyes widen as you realize what you've said. Your eyes snap up to Jongho's worriedly, thinking he would be upset, offended, or even pissed.

The look in his eyes doesn't reflect any of what you expected, instead his eyes still hold that warmth that is always there when he addresses you. Though some amusement passes through his gaze as he exhales a short laugh. Your breath hitches when his free hand lightly lands on your shoulder, giving it a light squeeze before slowly dragging over your exposed skin— fingers running over your collarbone before they settle on the back of your neck, firm but still gentle. His eyes drop down to watch as his thumb dances over your jugular. You watch in real time as the amusement in his gaze shifts into something different. Something darker, deeper, hungry.

"I don't disappoint." He says, voice steady and controlled as if he's saying a fact.

Something irrefutable. A confidence that makes your knees weak and desire starts to burn in your lower stomach. There's a sense of danger you feel, like this was a spiral that would only get deeper and deeper with no way to return to how things were before if you agree. There's also a sense of thrill, despite the many bold claims you've heard in your time on your dating apps; something about Jongho's simple three-word sentence makes you eager. You lean into his touch on your neck, body seeking a firmer grip from the calloused hands that hadn't even started pulling you apart yet.

Jongho chuckles, a low sound that snaps you back into the moment and you blink once, twice, before you refocus your gaze on him, heat flooding your cheeks. Your body's choice is clear; all that's left is your slowly melting mind.

"Are you sure?" Your voice is barely above a whisper as you look over his eyes, his nose, his lips.

He has such nice lips. Why haven't you ever noticed this before? There's a lot of things you've discovered this past week and you'd only discover more if tonight goes where your body wants it to.

"I'm sure. I need you to be sure." Jongho replies smoothly, his voice a calm, low hum that's breaking down your hesitation.

The reasons not to indulge were starting to seem like excuses, and perhaps it was the constant disappointment and light sexual frustration you'd been feeling for months, but you find yourself throwing caution to the wind.

What's an experiment between best friends?

"I'm sure." You nod slowly, hyperaware of his fingers' light caress of your neck as a smile tugs at the corners of Jongho's lips.

"Glad we can come to an agreement. Now, are you familiar with the color system?"

It takes a moment for Jongho's question to sink into your lagging brain as the hand on your wrist starts trailing up your arm to your shoulder.

"Y-Yes. Green is I'm okay. Yellow is slow down. Red is stop." Your reply comes a bit delayed, but still appreciated as Jongho nods in approval.

"Good. Do you have a safe word?"

"Do I need one?"

There's a fleeting glint in Jongho's eyes, gone too fast for you to catch what it was before he replies.

"Better safe than sorry in my experience. I use confectionery."

His hand continues from your shoulder over to your sternum, gently rubbing circles there.

"Confectionery works." You agree quickly, swallowing slowly as goosebumps rise on your skin.

"Good." The finger on your sternum moves up until Jongho is cupping your cheek and making you look him in his eyes, "Please use it if you need. I won't be upset with you unless you hide your real feelings from me. Clear communication is needed. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir." The obedient reply tumbles from your lips without you meaning it to.

Truthfully the hand on your neck and the sternness in his tone are doing things to you that your mind isn't prepared for. The simmer in your belly has turned into a steady blaze, and your want to feel his hands has turned into a need. Your choice of title must please Jongho, considering the satisfied smile that spreads across his face.

"Good girl." Jongho purrs, "Can I kiss you?"

You nod a bit more eagerly than you mean to and Jongho can't help the little laugh that leaves his chest. You were so cute. That was going to be detrimental to both of you later, but for now he simply moves his hand from your cheek and leans in to press a soft kiss to your lips.

You return it gently, his lip softer than you thought they'd be. It's experimental, close-mouthed and felt almost like a question. The second kiss is more of a statement. Firm, deeper, hotter. The hand that has been gently sitting at the side of your neck starts moving. You drop the charger to the floor, a soft moan floating out of your throat as you feel that hand move to enclose more firmly on your throat. There isn't a squeeze, just a heavy weight that makes you melt into him more and part your lips when his tongue swipes along your lip.

His other hand moves to the small of your back, pulling you flush against his warm body and your hands find their way to the same toned chest that had been haunting your mind the past few days. Your fingers glide over his torso, the shirt an annoying barrier but one you weren't willing to move out of the way yet.

Meanwhile, Jongho's tongue finds its way into your mouth, tangling with yours as a soft sigh rumbles through his chest. His roaming hand gets more insistent as the kiss deepens, moving down to your ass and giving it a tight squeeze at the same time the hand on your neck tightens its grip slightly. You openly moan into his mouth at that, pressing yourself more against him as lust floods your body quicker than you're used to. Jongho bites and tugs on your lower lip before fully breaking the kiss.

"You mentioned spanking, right? Let's start there." He pulls at one of the belt loops on your shorts, "Off, and over my lap."

And just like that, he detaches himself from you entirely and sits down on the edge of his bed, leaning back onto his hands and watching you with a gaze that held heat, desire, and promises.

You felt lost at the sudden loss of his stimulation, but after a few moments of catching your breath, you fumble with the button on your shorts before shoving them down your thighs and kicking them aside. Your hands pause on the hem of your panties, unsure if you wanted them off just yet. You glance at Jongho, wondering if he would give you any guidance but he simply looks back at you, waiting patiently. Since he didn't seem to mind either way, you decide to keep your panties on and hold onto your dignity for just a smidge longer as you put yourself over his lap.

The feeling of his sheets on your knees and elbows is a familiar comfort as you settle down. Usually, you'd be curling up into these sheets after a long night of drinking to sleep. Now you find yourself over the knee of the man who owns said bed in a strange turn of events.

You jump lightly when you feel one of Jongho's hands come down to rub along the back of your thighs— sparing him a short glance over your shoulder before resting your head on the comforter.

The sudden realization that Jongho was about to be face-to-face with your damp panties makes your cheeks flush with heat and a shyness starts to bloom in your chest. He'd know how he was making you feel and that thought was slightly horrifying. You can't stop the self-conscious groan that makes its way out of your throat and Jongho turns his head to your upper half, noting your shift in body language as you tense up.

"Color?" He asks gently, his free hand moving to rub reassuring circles on your back.

"G-Green. Sorry, just..." You trail off, not knowing how to voice your mind's gentle spiral in a way that doesn't make you feel stupid.

Jongho didn't need the rest of your sentence to know what was going through your head.

"No need to say sorry, just breathe for me. Relax, I got you." He coos, gently squeezing the back of your thighs in a way that feels like a pseudo-massage.

You try your best to focus on the sensations on your body, he comfort his hands had always provided for you over the years settling into your bones— without noticing you're relaxing into his lap, the lull of his gentle yet firm touch on you making your thoughts quietly disperse until all that's left is a desire that has you arching into his touch.

"There we go." Jongho hums and your legs spread a little more on their own at the praise, "Let go. You don't need to think about anything. Just feel. Can you do that for Sir?"

You lift your head from the sheets, nodding slowly as you rest your cheek on the bed, no longer hiding from the feelings in your veins.

"Good girl. Stay just like this."

The first smack to your ass surprises you more than it hurts you. You yelp, but Jongho doesn't seem fazed by it— giving your ass a slightly harder second spank. You bite down your lip as light warmth starts spreading through your backside and need starts flaring up in your veins.

The rhythm Jongho picks up is steady, slow, but effective. You were right in your assumption that he would be heavy-handed, a fact that makes your yelps turn into whines by the 6th spank or so. The weight behind his hand was perfect and it left a sting on your skin that was surprisingly light, but still satisfying. Yet, you knew this had to be a warmup of sorts, something to get you comfortable before he really got started. You push your ass back into his hand wordlessly as he rubs to soothe your skin.

"Yeah?" Jongho chuckles, understanding your silent message, "Do you want more? Harder?"

You nod as you feel a hand slip up your back and settle onto the back of your neck. You go completely pliant under him, like a cat being picked up by their scruff.

"What's the safe word?

The question from Jongho makes your thighs clench in anticipation. Behind this question was a promise of an intensity he had yet to show you, and you craved it deeply.

"Confectionery." You reply softly, wiggling lightly in his lap, only stopping when he squeezes at the back of your neck again.

"Good. Remember that."

The next spank makes your body jolt forward, a cry ripping from your chest as the gentle stings from before become a burst of heat radiating up your spine. The next one lands on your other cheek and you can't help how your hips jump, wriggling up his lap but he puts you right back where he wants you before he keeps landing spanks to your backside.

Each hit to your ass is the delicious mix of pleasure and pain, your body battling between pushing more into his hits and trying to escape his lap— though you had no real choice. Jongho wasn't going to let you get away. Your cries are music to his ears, feeding his need to hear more of them, his need to see your heated skin react to his hits. He starts landing hits faster, harder, loving the way your ass and thighs jiggle and your wails only get more needy and garbled as he continues.

The frenzy in him only dims when he hears a sniffle from you. He goes back to soothing the very warm skin on your ass and thighs as he tries to calm his breathing. He needed to keep his wits about him, but you were making it hard.

"Color?" He asks, and your hips twitch at how gritty he sounds.

You could feel his erection pressing into you since he picked up speed, but knowing he was as affected as you were made joy bloom in your chest and a smile spread across your face— despite the tears running down it.

"G-Green, Sir." You reply between pants.

Yes, your backside felt like it was on fire, but it fed into the bigger feeling of pleasure that left your mind buzzing and wanting more of him touching you in any way he'd give it.

"You're doing so good. I'll just do a few more, okay?"

You nod your head slowly, swallowing thickly as the hand on your neck moves. Your cheeks flood with heat when you feel a hand spreading you. You squirm lightly at the thought of Jongho staring right at your wet panties but a slap to your thigh makes you stop moving immediately.

"Still."

Embarrassment still flares in you but the sternness in his tone makes you stay still as he spreads you even wider. Jongho holds back a moan when he sees how stained your panties are, how your arousal has made its way to your thighs.

So you can handle some roughness. A dark grin spreads on his face as he thinks of what he can inflict on you, but he quickly reins it in before he gets carried away. Instead, he brings his thumb to rub gentle circles around your clit. You whimper softly, the switch in stimulation going straight to your head and making your mind feel floaty. You gently rut your hips into his fingers as your eyes slip shut, wanting more stimulation on your aching clit. Unbeknownst to you, Jongho definitely planned to give you exactly that.

"So fucking wet." Jongho murmurs to himself, an idea popping into his head that he simply can't resist.

His thumb leaves your clit and you open your mouth to protest when suddenly his hand comes down, spanking you right on your pussy. You let out your loudest cry yet, gripping at the sheets under you and wiggling so hard Jongho has to hold you down firmly.

"You're doing so well, baby. So well. Just take a few more for me. You can do that, can't you? You'll be good for me?"

Jongho's voice floats into your ears, sinking into your hazy mind as water gathers at your tear line. It hurt so good. The mix of pleasure and pain had your stomach twisting, a coil getting closer and closer to snapping.

"Y-Yes, Sir." You nod your head, drooling onto the comforter and doing your best to stop wiggling in anticipation of another slap to your pussy.

Your obedience made his cock throb, but he planned to pull you apart slowly for your comment about disappointing you. He'd show you there was no such thing with him. He'd be your standard and then some if Jongho had anything to say about it.

He spanks your pussy two more times, holding you still as he focuses his hits onto your clit. The last one breaks a dam in your mind and your lips move before you can even straighten out your thoughts.

"Please! Sir, please. Need more. Please touch me." You plead between sniffles, looking over your shoulder at Jongho.

His heart and cock throb in time at your face. Lip gloss smeared, eyes wet, tears streaks on your cheek, desperation in your eyes just like he wants. Oh, how he loved watching people fall apart for him. You were no exception.

"I am touching you." He replies, emphasizing his point by rubbing your thighs and you whimper, kicking your legs lightly.

You immediately stop when you see the shift in Jongho's gaze, not wanting to test the darkness that swirls in them any more than you already have. If this was him when he was being nice, you didn't want to see what he did when he was feeling cruel.

At least not right now.

"More touch...please?" You pout, hoping your cuteness can get you your way.

Perhaps with anyone else it would work, but Jongho had a stupid amount of patience. He always has.

"Mmm, I think I need you to show me what you mean. Show Sir how you want to be touched." Jongho demands, tapping your ass lightly to signal for you to move from his lap.

You lay there dumbly, your brain still catching up to what's been said.

"H-Huh?" You stammer, tilting your head at Jongho, who laughs to himself before he maneuvers you off of him and onto his bed.

"Lie back on my bed, and touch your pretty pussy for me. If you do well enough, I might just give you what you want, but only if you can convince me." Jongho sits on the edge of the bed, eyes roving over your body as your brain continues to compute.

When the message finally sinks in, you pout at Jongho but his expression doesn't falter as he waits for you to do as he said. Slowly, you crawl up on his bed on shaky legs, tossing your shirt aside before leaning against his headboard and spreading your legs— showing your dripping wet core to him.

You tease yourself over the lace of your panties, softly whimpering as you drag your fingers up and down your slit. You didn't want to feel your own hands, that's been the only thing to really bring you pleasure for the past few months— but you knew you had to listen to get what you wanted. So you keep teasing your aching core for a few passes before peeling your soaked panties off and tossing them aside.

You hear a sharp inhale when you spread your legs again and fight back a small smirk as your head lolls to the side. Your eyes settle onto Jongho who was laser-focused on your hands between your legs. You play up your moans, biting on your lip and whining as your fingers circle your clit like they have many times before. Your eyes become lidded as the pleasure courses through your veins, breathing turning into pants as you toy with yourself in the way you've perfected over the years. Soon the show you were putting on becomes real, not a showcase of sound and facial expressions for the man sitting in front of you, but a genuine desperation pulls at your core— the spanking and the touches from Jongho winding your body up so much you needed to cum.

Jongho kept a close watch on you. How your hands were starting to get shaky, how you chewed on your lip when you really sank into the pleasure, how you cry out so prettily when you plunge two fingers into your wet heat with zero resistance, how your eyes fluttered shut and your legs were starting to quiver, and the desperation to cum that rolls off you in waves makes even more blood rush to his cock. He knew you could get pouty at times but this level of need was new, and he loved it.

But he was the one in control here. And he needed to remind you of that.

Jongho moves up on the bed and your eyes open again when you feel the movement, need burning even brighter when you see him sit right next to your quaking leg and place his hand on your knee. Your legs spread even more of their own accord and it only makes the power rushing through his veins feel stronger.

"You look beautiful like this. Wet, aching, desperate. Tell me, what do you want, sweetheart?"

The question bounces around your muddled mind for a bit, fingers still curling inside of you while the other hand circles your clit. The answer should be obvious, but you say it anyway.

"Y-You. Want you to touch me."

The hand on your knee creeps up your thigh and you watch it with bated breath as he gets closer to where you wanted him.

"Like this?" Jongho asks, voice feigning innocence despite the fact you were finger fucking yourself right in front of him.

"Nooo!" You whine, narrowing your eyes at him and he full-on laughs at you.

"Like that?" He nods to where your hand is knuckle deep inside of you and you nod eagerly.

"Yes! Please, please, Sir. I wanna cum, I-I wanna—" Your words get more airy as you feel that familiar tightening in your lower stomach and your eyes flutter shut again.

It was right there; you were so close. Just when your back was starting to bow, the peak right within reach, his voice cuts through your ecstasy.

"That's enough."

Your brain and body couldn't quite comprehend the meaning behind his words, the need in your veins scrambling your normal levels of coherence and though your hands slow down, they don't completely stop. Your eyes blink open as Jongho grabs the hand that was on your clit and rips it away from you. You whimper pathetically as the hand in you slows to a stop, finally understanding what he wanted. Your eyes water with frustration and a deep pout settles onto your face at your orgasm being stalled. He had been playing with you for what felt like forever and you weren't sure you could take the pressure for much longer.

Sensing an incoming fit, Jongho immediately switches his approach— while he could handle a brat, you weren't exactly his to tame, and that required far more extensive conversations than what you two had before this began.

"Shh, it's okay, baby. You're okay." He coos, a hand coming to your face to gently wipe a stray tear away as he moves your hand to replace it with his and gently runs his middle finger up your slit.

When your pout lightens at his touch, he smiles softly at you.

"I want to be the one to make you cum. You'll let me make you feel good, right?"

You sniffle and nod slowly as he leans in and leaves a chaste kiss on your lips.

"You looked hot fucking yourself like that for me." He murmurs against your skin as he kisses from the corner of your lips to your jaw.

You swallow thickly as you tilt your head back to give him room, the frustration in your bones melting away as fast as it came when he's sinking his middle finger into you easily. There's some slight shyness in how easily you accepted his digit but that disappears with the deep groan Jongho lets out as he starts pumping it into you.

"You must really want it, hm? With how easily you're taking me." He husks, lightly running his tongue on your neck before biting down gently and you clench around his finger.

You feel a small smirk on your heated skin as Jongho slips his ring finger in to join his middle and he picks up his speed. Truthfully, he was flexible when it came to fingering but with you being so sure he was a middle and ring finger guy, he wanted to live up to the fantasy in your head.

You didn't care which fingers he used as long as he kept fucking them into you the way he currently was. Your hips buck up toward his hands, eyes rolling back as your orgasm comes back at an alarmingly fast rate. It doesn't take much for Jongho to have you gripping his forearm and crying out into his bedroom. The tension in your body so close to finally peaking that you don't notice Jongho's lips move next to your ears.

"Beg for it. I wanna hear you cry for me."

With how close you were to finally cumming, you'd do anything he asked of you.

"Please! Please, Sir, please let me cum. I've been so good, just— fuck, please!" Your words are slurred as you give him your most desperate plea yet, nails digging hard into his forearm as your voice quivers.

Jongho pulls back to take in your current state: eyes half rolled back into your head, jaw slack as you pant, tear streaks still on your face, grinding against the thumb he has on your clit mindlessly— and in that moment he decides you've earned it and then some. His thumb rubs circles faster and your thighs clamp around the forearm currently between them but Jongho doesn't slow down. His fingers keep their pace, curling deliciously into you as he leaves heated kisses up your jaw to your ear where he whispers, softly yet firmly.

"Cum."

And you do. Hard. Body writhing as you wail and tears stream down your face.

"What a good girl. Cumming when I tell you to." He coos as he peppers your neck and jaw with kisses.

You lean into the affection, drinking it up like it's water and you were in the Sahara. A small, mindless smile on your face as Jongho talked you through your high.

"You deserve a reward." He muses, free hand moving to rub your side, "I have an idea, something I think you'd like a lot."

You turn your head to look at him, blinking slowly as you tilt your head curiously. Jongho doesn't say it, instead he moves to sit and lean back on the headboard next to you, and pops his fingers into his mouth to suck your taste off of them as if it were normal. The soft moan he lets out at your taste goes straight to your cunt, still sensitive from your orgasm but still very into the view in front of you.

Truthfully your taste was tempting the man to forgo the plan he had set to get more from the source, but no. This was about you.

His fingers pop out of his mouth and he licks his lips before his hands move to your waist. With care for your still recovering body, he gently guides you to straddle and sit on one of his thighs. You look down at Jongho from your new perch, eyes drifting from his face to his body and pouting at the way he was still completely clothed. You pull at his shirt as you poke your bottom lip out and Jongho bites back the smile that tugs at the corner of his lips.

Cute.

He indulges you, taking his time to peel his shirt off his body— revealing his smooth, lightly tanned skin, muscle rippling underneath as he tosses the shirt aside. He watches you with barely concealed amusement as he tenses his thigh and gently coaxes you to start grinding against the soft fabric of his shorts. The immediate pleasure shooting through your body makes your eyes flutter for a moment but you force them back open, wanting to admire the new expanse of skin in front of you.

"You can touch if you'd like." Jongho offers, one of his hands slipping up to your bra's clasp to quickly undo it and toss it aside.

The invitation is taken before you can even think about it. Your hands splayed on his chest and running down his stomach, taking in how smooth it feels but with a little pressure, you can feel the power hidden beneath the softness. Muscle that had been honed to perfection and worked on for many years you've known him. You think of what those muscles could be used for and your hips jerk against him, betraying your thoughts to the man who was watching you ride his thigh.

Jongho's hand moves to your chest, lightly circling your pebbled nipple, watching your mouth form a small 'o' as you start grinding on his thigh of your own accord— chasing the pleasure the fabric of his shorts brings you as it drags along your clit.

"Atta girl. Just like that." Jongho lightly tugs on your nipple and you keen softly, hips starting to move faster, "Use my thigh. Show me how badly you wanna cum again."

It isn't long before Jongho's thigh is drenched in your essence, shorts stained and broadcasting how slick you were with each movement of your hips. Your moans pour out of you unfiltered; if someone happened to come home in the midst of all this, they'd undoubtedly hear you.

But you were far beyond caring, especially when you feel that familiar weight of Jongho's hand wrapping around your throat yet again, eyes rolling back as you bare your neck to him more and dig your nails into his chest to ground yourself. Jongho barely notices, the pain minimal compared to the thrill in his veins as he watches you lose yourself to the feeling of his thigh. He flexes it harder as his hand gently presses at the sides of your neck and a broken whimper leaves your lips, the coil in your stomach tightening yet again and you know what's coming.

For a moment, you doubt whether you could handle another orgasm after how intense the first one was, but then you feel Jongho's fingers at your lips. Your unfocused gaze moves to him and the look in his eyes sends a surge of arousal through your body.

It shouldn't turn you on to see such a dark glint in your best friend's eyes, yet your hips falter in their pace as the weight of his gaze hits you full on. Your lips part for him, letting his pointer and middle finger sink into your mouth and rest on your tongue. They're just deep enough to trigger your gag reflex and between the hand on your throat, and the simulation on your clit, you're teetering on an edge you think might break you— but like your thoughts were being broadcast on your face, Jongho speaks up.

"You can handle it, baby. You can give one more to Sir. Don't think, just let go. Let go on my thigh."

His deep, honeyed voice hits you right in the stomach and that coil is coaxed into snapping— a sound so unlike you is pulled from your throat as you writhe on Jongho's thigh, drenching it in cum and drooling on his fingers as your mind goes white.

"There you go. What a good girl." The praise barely registers in your mind as your body starts slumping, all strength leaving your bones as Jongho removes his hands from your neck and mouth to let you collapse on his body.

He gently rubs your back as you catch your breath and blink tears out of your eyes.

It could've been 5 minutes, could've been 30 minutes, but eventually you manage to pull back and look at Jongho, who looked annoyingly put together for someone who just gave you two mind-shattering orgasms. The only tell was how he was sweating lightly and his eyes still looked as though he was stopping himself from completely devouring you right then and there.

"You alright?" Jongho asks, hands still rubbing soothing patterns on your skin as he looks over your body.

No visible marks, and you didn't look dangerously delirious, just like a girl who got her brains fucked out. Mission accomplished in his book.

You shake your head no and Jongho's eyes immediately flash with worry, until you start speaking.

"I probably look a mess and you look like you've just been for a light jog, that's not fair!"

Jongho blinks in shock before he laughs heartily, head resting on the headboard behind him as his shoulders shake.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. To be fair I only used my hands, mouth, and thigh. You used...well, everything, it was bound to end up like this." His tone is teasing as he kisses your cheek and gently sets you aside to get up.

He holds up a finger before he slips out the room, and you lean against the headboard as your brain tries to wrap around what just happened.

That was...incredible. You felt like all those months of frustration had entirely melted off your body and been replaced with a lighthearted joy settling into your bones. All it took was your best friend putting his hands on you.

Unorthodox, but you didn't regret it for even a second.

Jongho comes back in with a bottle of water and a towel. The bottle is handed to you while he begins to gently towel you off. You watch him quietly as you sip, brain still processing what exactly is meant to happen from here. Eventually, your wandering gaze lands on his still semi-hard cock in his stained shorts and without much thought, you reach out to grab him. Jongho stiffens when he feels your hand, pausing the movement of the towel to look between your face and your hand on him.

"You don't have to." He assures you as your hand starts gently palming him.

You smile when you feel his cock twitch with interest.

"I want to. Please?"

You can see the internal debate in Jongho's head as he looks between the towel in his hand and your hand on him. He seems to be leaning toward giving in when the sound of the front door swinging open makes you both freeze. What is clearly a drunk Wooyoung enters the house, loudly yelling about some dart game, and you have never wanted to punch that little bastard in the head as bad as you do right now.

"Another time." Jongho gently grabs your hand, kissing the back of it before setting it down.

You concede easily, not really wanting to have to worry about volume levels. Jongho goes and locks his bedroom door before returning to finish cleaning you off and handing you your clothes to slip them back on. While you redress, he changes into shorts not covered in your cum. You both looked pretty put together by the end of it, as if nothing had happened— but the bed held evidence of the truth on it in the form of wet spots and wrinkles in his sheets.

You pick the charger up off the floor, the catalyst for this very strange night, and shove it into your purse. As you're trying to think of what to say to make this as not awkward as possible, Jongho speaks up.

"So, how was the standard?"

You can't help the heat that flushes your cheeks as you look at Jongho, who looks like the cat that got the canary. Part of you wanted to wipe the smugness off his face, but part of you knew it was well deserved. The slight tingle in your pussy agrees that it is, indeed, well deserved.

"It was good." You reply after a moment to think, "But, I didn't get to fully sample it so I can't say for sure. I'd give it a 5/5 for now though. I was right in all my assumptions."

Jongho nods, a deep satisfaction rolling through him at how much brighter you looked now. A job well done.

"Perhaps you can finish the sampler another day." He responds, a nonchalance to his voice that makes you laugh.

"Perhaps. For now, it sounds like you got some housemates to take care of."

As if on cue, there's a loud thud in the hallway, followed by San cursing out a hysterically laughing Wooyoung. Jongho sighs gently as he rubs his temple.

"You could always help me." Jongho suggests as he heads to his door to unlock it.

"Nope, I got shit to do. Calls to make." You laugh as you step into the hall and see the usual— WooSan tangled in each other on the floor with Seonghwa watching them like a tired parent. There's happy cheers of your name, but you just wave as you squeeze past them all in the hallway.

"Where are you going? Come backkkk!" San whines as you keep making your way to the front door.

"Sorry, Sannie! I gotta go! Love you though!"

"No, you don't!" He cries as if you've stabbed him in the chest as you slip out the front door.

The night air is cool on your skin as you walk down the street, the moon glowing brightly in the sky. There were many unknowns flying through your head but right now, you just wanted to enjoy the bliss in your veins. You pull your phone out of your pocket, checking your notifications and seeing Jihyo has sent you 5 texts and called you once. Her last text makes you chuckle.

JiJi: did Jongho kill you or something?

Your smile only widens as you type out a response before slipping your phone back into your pocket and whistling to yourself as you continue trekking home.

you: yes, but not how you think :) call u later babe

taglist: @hanji-coffee @istansquirrels @atinyno1likeme @vicurious28 @mxnsxngie @trivia-134340 @rightumokay @booimaeatyouu @archernotfound @chanscappuccino @livonianmaia @meangreenandlean @aaa-sia @yourfavoritedeluluspot @spiderfae03 @anylady-fics @cactusqueen98 @agentayato @cosmic-hwa @moooonandroses @albavelvet

[jjongsho]

Good!! So very good!! Thank you, author-nim. Part 2?

[jonghodaily]

[jjongsho]

ALPHA Jongho making an appearance! I love his red eye-shine photos so much!!!

[thirstkanaphan]

don't you dare!

[faeteez]

ATEEZ Fashion: Jongho

support me on ko-fi

[thirstkanaphan]

This entire sequence...

Jongho's devastating competence 🥵; him gently but firmly guiding Yeosang to use the fishing rod; cutting back to the studio as San realizes he's completely outmatched; Yunho giving San remedial boyfriend lessons; San sinking into the depths of despair; Yeosang's little grin at the end...

[jjongsho]

KAAANNNG YEOSAAAANNNG!!!! PLEEAASEE!! Let me have my turn!!! You're just out here constantly living my dream and I'm SICK OF IT!!! I've had enough!!! I'M DONE!!!😭😭😭😭😭 AAAAUUUUGHGHGHGHGGGGHGHGKD!!!!!!!

[thirstkanaphan]

get out of here!!!

[chocolate-salt]

The drivers & the drivers's princesses

[jjongsho]

#Caption is just too accurate and I'm not mad about it

[thirstkanaphan]

Enjoy this video I took of Jongho serving face

[yourfatherlucifer]

MDNI - JONGHO

Smut - female!reader

Taglist: @staytinyville @kbitties @wooyoungqueen @yunho-mp3 @dinossaurz @emtrades22 @sanspuppet

Enjoy my return with this! PLEASE reblog!!

Riding RichCeo!Jongho in his driver seat in the garage while the others are waiting in the mansion, spamming his phone wondering where the hell the two of you are.

Your dress/skirt is just flipped up your back, he's stroking the exposed skin with the hand that's wearing such an expensive watch. He's cooing at your pleasure.

His girthy cock is just thrusting up into you as you bounce at a hard pace. Jongho is smiling coyly, so pleased with you.

"Yes, squeeze my cock, just like that. Fuck, you feel so good all around me." He grunts.

When his cum flooded your walls, he landed two soft smacks to your ass, "Lets head inside, I wanna fuck you so they can hear you."

The two of you stumbled through front door, still high on endorphins from the sex.

"And where the fuck have you two been?" Hongjoong rested his hands on his hips in a disapproving manor.

All of the sudden you felt Jongho's cum slide down your leg.

Wooyoung's witchlike cackle filled the foyer.

"I can see you two had fun!"

"Yeah and I wanna fuck some more into her but we are being bothered."

[reveriebae]

Rhythm and Ruin

pairing(s) : Choi Jongho x choreographer! reader

word count : 3815

summary : When teasing Jongho during late-night dance practice turns into a battle of control, you find yourself pinned, wrecked, and ruined by the quietest member of the group—who turns out to be anything but gentle behind closed doors. Cocky mouths get fucked, bratty attitudes get corrected, and you? You get stuffed full, overstimulated, and made to remember exactly who he is.

genre : smut

warning(s) : explicit sexual content, rough sex, manhandling, overstimulation, cockwarming, possessive behavior, dominance/brat dynamics, mirror play, semi-public setting (dance practice room), slight degradation. Let me know if I missed anything!

Minors do not interact, 21+ only!!

🪐smut under the cut🪐

You were never easy on him.

“Again,” you snapped, arms crossed as Jongho’s chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. Sweat dripped from his temple, soaking through the thin black tank top clinging to his chest. “Your pop on eight is half a beat late. Fix it.”

He gave you a sharp glance through those dark lashes, jaw tight, chest heaving—but said nothing. Just nodded once, jaw flexing, and moved back to formation. Ever the obedient trainee. Ever the silent one.

You watched the set again from the speaker’s edge, eyes fixed on him. Precision in every move, powerful lines, and that body—taut, coiled, restrained. Jongho was never the flashiest, but he commanded attention. And you knew exactly how far to push him to bring it out.

“Better,” you murmured when the music stopped. “But not good enough.”

He rolled his neck, muscles rippling beneath sweat-slick skin. “Want me to bleed for it next time?”

Your brow arched. “If that’s what it takes.”

There it was—the flicker in his eyes. The tension that had been building all week. No, longer. Every time you corrected him. Every time you adjusted his hips or pressed his shoulders just so. Every time you praised the others louder than him. He soaked it all in like a sponge—and you knew, eventually, he’d snap.

Good.

That’s what you wanted.

You circled behind him slowly, your footsteps deliberate against the wooden floor. The air in the practice room was thick—humid with heat, layered with tension. The rest of the team had gone home hours ago. Just the two of you now.

“Reset from the chorus,” you said coolly, voice dipping low. “And this time… don’t hold back.”

You knew exactly what you were doing.

He moved into position, jaw tight, eyes flicking to the mirror to find your reflection. You didn’t smile. You just watched. Waited. Measured his restraint like a weapon.

The beat kicked in.

He danced like a storm—every move sharp and deliberate, muscle memory and frustration guiding him. There was something aggressive about the way he hit every count now. Not just following choreography. Challenging you.

You bit the inside of your cheek, resisting the shiver that crawled down your spine.

The track ended. Silence bloomed.

Jongho turned toward you slowly, chest heaving, lips parted.

“Well?” he asked, voice rough, just a little deeper than usual.

You tilted your head. “Still a fraction behind the beat at the end.”

The sound he made was soft. Almost a laugh. Almost.

And then—he stepped toward you.

Your breath caught.

“You’ve been riding me hard all week,” he murmured, wiping his jaw with the back of his hand. “Is that what you want? Me losing control? So you can say I broke?”

You stood your ground. “I want you to listen. To follow direction.”

He was in front of you now. Close. Too close.

“I’ve been listening,” he growled, voice dropping, heat pouring off him. “But maybe it’s time you learn to stop pushing.”

He stared at you like he was waiting for permission.

“You gonna do something, Jongho?” you murmured, chin tilted up, voice calm despite the thrum of your pulse. “Or are you just gonna stand there and breathe heavy until I dismiss you?”

His nostrils flared.

You smiled, slow and sharp.

“I know that look,” you said, voice like velvet laced with taunt. “You think you’re intimidating me? Please. I’ve handled bigger attitudes than yours.”

He leaned in slightly, just enough that his breath hit your lips. “That so?”

You nodded, cocky and cool, hands sliding up your own hips lazily. “Mm. You’re good—but you’re not irreplaceable. So unless you want to stop wasting my time, you better get your shit together and—”

His hand hit the mirror beside your head, hard enough to make the glass tremble. You didn’t flinch.

But oh… he didn’t move away either.

His eyes dropped to your mouth. His jaw ticked. That deep, low inhale came from somewhere in his chest.

“I’ve been letting you talk,” he said through clenched teeth. “Because I respect you.”

You licked your lips slowly, dragging it out, knowing he was watching every second.

“But if you think I’m just some rookie you can boss around without consequence…” he whispered, his voice dropping until it was barely audible, dangerous, “…you’re out of your damn mind.”

You tilted your head, smug.

“Oh, Jongho,” you said sweetly. “Is that a threat?”

Silence.

Then—

“No,” he said, voice thick. “It’s a fucking promise.”

And just like that, the dam cracked.

He reached for you—not gentle, not soft—hands gripping your thighs and lifting you clean off the ground like you weighed nothing. Your back slammed into the mirror again, legs spread around his waist as your breath hitched in surprise.

His mouth hovered over yours, lips barely brushing. “You’ve been begging for this,” he growled. “Every correction. Every insult. Every time you touched me like I wouldn’t notice.”

Your fingers curled into his shoulders, nails pressing against muscle.

And when you smirked again, cocky and challenging—

He snapped.

His mouth crashed into yours—hot, demanding, messy. Nothing soft, nothing sweet. Just pure frustration and weeks of tension unleashed. You moaned into him, hands fisting into his shirt, but he didn’t let you take control.

No, Jongho took.

His tongue pushed past your lips, teeth nipping at the corner of your mouth like he wanted to mark you. He pressed his body into yours, hard chest against your torso, caging you to the mirror while your legs locked around his waist.

When he pulled away, a string of spit connected your lips—and he smirked. Finally, that cocky look was on his face.

“You like being thrown around, huh?” he murmured, one hand gripping your thigh, the other slipping beneath your top, palm dragging slowly up your stomach. “So fuckin’ smug all the time. All that attitude.”

His thumb flicked your nipple, watching the way your body jolted.

“But look at you now.”

His hand moved down again, cupping between your thighs—pressing hard over the damp heat already soaking your shorts. His breath hitched when he felt it.

“You’re already wet?” he muttered, eyes dark with disbelief and something deeper. “Fucking knew it. Knew you were getting off on bossing me around.”

You tried to say something—tried to fire back—but all that came out was a gasp as he ground his palm into you, slow and punishing.

“Where’d that mouth go?” he asked low, voice rough as gravel. “All that shit you were talking. C’mon. Be a good coach and give me some notes.”

He dipped his head, lips dragging along your neck, tongue hot and slow as it traced up to your jaw. His teeth scraped skin, not hard enough to bite—but just enough to warn.

You whined, finally cracking.

That only made him grin wider.

“Thought so.”

He dropped you just enough to spin you around, pressing your chest to the mirror. Your breath fogged the glass, your nipples pebbled against the cool surface.

“Don’t move,” he growled behind you, tugging your shorts down inch by inch. His fingers dragged along your thighs, rough calluses scraping skin, before he grabbed your ass—spreading it, squeezing, groaning under his breath. “You’ve had this pretty little thing in front of me every day, thinking I wouldn’t touch?”

You braced your hands against the mirror, heart slamming in your chest.

“You wanted this. Wanted me like this.”

His fingers slipped between your legs, finally touching bare skin.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “You’re soaked. Dripping down your thighs.”

He rubbed slow circles, teasing, torturing. Never quite giving you what you needed. You pressed your hips back, but he stilled you with one arm around your waist.

“Not yet,” he breathed, lips brushing your ear. “I’m gonna take my time.”

Then—two fingers, thick and slow, pushed inside. The stretch was perfect, maddening, enough to make you cry out and bite your own lip against the sound.

He groaned behind you, low and raw. “That’s it,” he whispered, curling them just right. “Take it. Take all of it.”

“Jongho—fuck—please,” you gasped, forehead pressed against the mirror, voice broken and needy.

He laughed.

Not soft, not cruel—just dark amusement, the kind that laced his voice like honeyed poison.

“Aww,” he drawled, curling his fingers deeper inside you, slow and firm. “Now you know how to say please?”

You bucked your hips in response, desperate for more. But he didn’t move faster.

He didn’t need to.

“That the same mouth that told me I was replaceable?” he teased, pumping his fingers with deliberate control, eyes locked on your reflection. “Doesn’t sound so tough now, sweetheart.”

Your moans got louder as he hit that spot inside you again and again, slick sounds filling the room with every drag of his fingers.

“Listen to you,” he muttered, lips close to your ear. “You’re soaking my fucking hand, whining like a little slut. Bet the whole damn building could hear you if I let you scream.”

You turned your head to glare at him, eyes glassy and burning—but he loved that look. That mix of frustration and arousal, of wanting to fight but needing to cum so bad it hurt.

And he couldn’t help it—he kissed you again, filthy and deep, tongue tangling with yours as his fingers sped up, thumb circling your clit with ruthless rhythm.

You cried out into his mouth, and that broke something in him.

He pulled back just to watch you fall apart, lips swollen, chest heaving, legs trembling around his wrist.

“You’re gonna cum just like this?” he asked, mock surprise dripping from every word. “Not even my cock yet. You’re that fucking needy?”

You nodded, frantic, whining his name in pieces. “Please—please, let me—”

He chuckled low. “Oh, now you ask nice. Go ahead, then.”

His fingers fucked you harder, meaner, curling right into that sweet, unbearable spot. His other hand held your throat now—lightly, just pressure—keeping you right where he wanted you.

“Cum for me,” he whispered in your ear. “And then I’m gonna fuck you so deep, you forget how to boss anyone around.”

And you shattered.

Your moan was wild, guttural—head falling back, walls clenching around his fingers as heat bloomed through your whole body. You slumped, boneless, breath fogging the glass in front of you.

Jongho withdrew his fingers with a wet sound, admiring the slick coating them. “Look at this mess,” he muttered, licking one finger slowly while holding your gaze in the mirror. “And we’re just getting started.”

He stepped back just long enough to shove his sweats down, cock hard and heavy, flushed dark with need.

“You ready?” he asked, cocky but hungry now.

You nodded desperately.

He lined himself up, dragging the tip through your folds, teasing your oversensitive clit just to hear you gasp again.

“Oh no,” he said, leaning down to whisper with a wicked grin, “use that smart mouth, baby. Tell me you want it.”

You didn’t answer fast enough.

So Jongho slapped the head of his cock against your soaked folds—once, twice, hard enough to make you jolt.

“Use. Your. Fucking. Words,” he snarled, the usual softness in his tone completely gone now. “Beg for it, like the needy little thing you’ve been pretending not to be.”

You were panting, wrecked already, forehead still pressed to the mirror, lips parted and wet from his kiss. “Jongho… fuck me. Please. I need your cock—need it so bad.”

He hissed through his teeth, lining himself up and pushing in slow.

Thick. Hot. Fucking perfect.

You choked on your own moan as he split you open, inch by inch. No mercy. No rush. Just the heavy stretch of him filling you until your legs shook and your hands clawed at the mirror for something—anything—to hold on to.

“That’s it,” he groaned, hips rolling until he bottomed out. “Tight little cunt’s fuckin’ starving for cock, isn’t it?”

“Y-Yeah—fuck—you feel so—so big—”

He pulled out halfway and slammed back in, sharp and brutal, forcing a scream out of you.

“That too much?” he mocked, hips snapping into you, pace unrelenting. “But you were all mouth earlier. Thought you could take it?”

Your answer was a sob and a garbled whimper of his name.

He leaned over you again, teeth grazing your ear. “I’m gonna fuck that brat out of you, baby. Gonna make you cum on this cock until you forget how to talk back.”

His grip on your waist was bruising now, dragging you back onto every thrust like you were just a fucktoy built for this—meant to be used, meant to be ruined. His other hand snaked up your shirt, grabbing one of your tits, pinching your nipple so hard it made you jolt and clench around him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, voice all ragged heat. “This pussy’s choking me. Look at yourself, baby.”

You blinked at your reflection.

You were a mess—sweaty, flushed, hair ruined, mouth open in a permanent moan. Eyes glassy. Lips kiss-bruised. And your ass bouncing against his hips as he fucked you like he wanted to break you in half.

“God, you love this, don’t you?” he growled, slamming into you with a sharp thrust that made your knees buckle. “Fucked dumb on my cock, dripping all over me. Bet you wish I’d done this weeks ago.”

Your voice was high and fucked-out now. “More—please, Jongho, don’t stop—”

“Oh, you’re not getting me to stop,” he growled, one hand tangling in your hair to yank your head back, forcing your mouth open in a gasp. “You’re not done ‘til I say you’re done.”

He pulled out, and you whimpered in protest—only for him to flip you around, lift your leg over his shoulder, and thrust back into you with zero warning. You screamed his name this time, body jerking from the sheer force of it.

“Yeah,” he hissed. “That’s it. Scream for me. Let everyone fucking hear who’s wrecking you.”

He was so deep now it felt like he was in your throat, his hips grinding just right, balls slapping against you wetly with every thrust. Your nails dug into his arms, into his back, your moans hitting a higher pitch as the coil in your belly started to snap tight again.

“Shit—Jongho—I’m gonna—fuck, I’m gonna cum—”

“You better,” he growled, jaw clenched, sweat dripping down his neck. “You better fucking cream on my cock like you were made for it.”

He moved faster—meaner—grinding into that sweet spot with every thrust, fingers tight on your hip, until—

You exploded.

Your scream was guttural, back arching, whole body locking up as your pussy fluttered around his cock, squeezing him so tight he cursed and slammed in even harder.

“That’s it. Take it. Fuck, you’re so good for me when you’re like this,” he hissed, voice ragged. “Gonna fill you up, baby. You want that? Want my cum leaking outta you while you limp out of here?”

You nodded frantically, barely coherent, whining, “Please, cum in me—want it—need it—fuck, fill me up—”

That broke him.

With a strangled groan, Jongho buried himself deep, spilling inside you in hot, thick pulses that made your whole body tremble again. His teeth sank into your shoulder, muffling a groan as he emptied every drop into you, twitching with each breath.

He reached for your discarded shirt and wiped between your thighs carefully, almost reverently—though he paused to watch the way your pussy fluttered around nothing, his cum starting to drip out of you, sticky and glistening.

Fuck. His cock twitched.

Still… he took a breath, kissing your shoulder. “You did so good, baby.”

You whined at the praise, eyes fluttering shut as he pulled you into his arms, settling you gently on the hardwood floor of the dance practice room, where the only light came from the flickering ceiling panels and your fogged-up reflections on the mirrored wall.

Your head fell against his chest, breathing shallow, skin flushed and tacky from sweat. He cradled you for a moment, fingers dragging slow circles over your lower back, tracing invisible patterns while your muscles still twitched from aftershocks.

But then you felt it—pressing hot and heavy against your thigh.

“Again?” you asked, voice small and rough.

He didn’t answer right away. Just dragged his fingers up your spine, then tilted your chin with one hand, forcing you to look at him. His eyes were darker now—hooded, molten, possessive.

“Thought you were cocky,” he murmured. “Thought you could handle me.”

You blinked, heartbeat spiking.

His cock was hard again, throbbing against your leg. You hadn’t even processed your second orgasm and he was already teasing your entrance with the leaking tip, guiding it back to your still-sensitive folds.

“You gonna run your mouth again,” he asked, “or just moan like a good little slut this time?”

You bit his lip in answer.

And he fucking snapped.

Jongho flipped you over onto your stomach in one motion, dragging your hips up until you were on your knees, face pressed to the cool mirror wall, tits barely brushing the surface.

“You wanna act like a brat?” he growled, rubbing his cock between your folds again, smearing more of his cum and spit all over your slick pussy. “Fine. You get fucked like one.”

He shoved in without warning.

No teasing this time. Just a raw, deep thrust that punched the air out of your lungs, the stretch somehow more intense than before—like your walls had molded to him and were still trying to recover.

You let out a choked cry, face pressed to the glass, cheek streaking sweat against it.

Jongho leaned forward, chest flush to your back, lips right against your ear. “Look at you,” he murmured, taunting, thrusting slow but deep. “You thought you could tease me, play with me like I wouldn’t bite back.”

Another thrust. Harder.

“You forget who you're dealing with, baby?”

You tried to speak—tried to sass back—but your voice cracked on a moan as he fucked you deeper, angle perfect, cock dragging along your oversensitive walls with a rhythm that had you sobbing into the mirror.

“I said look,” he hissed.

He gripped your jaw, forcing your head up until you locked eyes with your reflection.

You looked ruined.

Mascara smudged. Lips red and spit-slick. Hair wild. Tits bouncing with every thrust. Your mouth fell open again in a helpless moan as Jongho slammed into you harder, hips snapping against the backs of your thighs.

“That’s what you look like,” he said low, “when I’m fucking the attitude out of you.”

You clenched around him at the words—tight—and he felt it.

“Oh? That get you off, sweetheart? Being put in your place?”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t.

Your hands clawed at the mirror now, trying to ground yourself as he drilled into you, sweat dripping from both your bodies, the room filled with the sound of skin on skin and your wrecked little cries.

“Go on,” he growled, voice shaking now with restraint. “Cum again. Let me feel it.”

You came hard.

Tears slipped down your cheeks, your cunt milking him with rhythmic, desperate clenches as you collapsed forward, thighs trembling.

Jongho cursed under his breath—lost it—and chased his high right behind you.

He didn’t pull out.

Not this time.

He buried himself so deep you swore you could taste it, pumping you full again with low, rough groans, head buried in the crook of your neck.

You both stayed like that for a moment. Panting. Sweating. His cock twitching inside you, your bodies pressed together like you couldn’t bear to be apart.

And then his voice again, low and teasing near your ear:

“Still think I’m just the quiet one?”

Your body was boneless—sprawled across the cool floor of the dance room, limbs twitching, breath shallow. Jongho didn’t move.

Not even when your walls fluttered again around him.

He was still inside you.

Still thick, still heavy, still hard.

Your breath caught. “You’re… still—”

“Shh,” he whispered against your ear, hips barely shifting. “Don’t move.”

He kept you there, folded underneath him, both of you facing the mirror, sweat and slick smeared across your thighs. His cock nestled deep inside your pulsing cunt like it belonged there, twitching every time you clenched.

“You’re keeping me warm, baby,” he murmured, mouth brushing your shoulder as he licked at the bite mark he left earlier. “Look at you… so fucked out you can’t even sass me anymore.”

You whimpered, trying to shift your hips.

He gripped your thigh tighter.

“Did I say you could move?”

You whined, needy.

“Aw, you miss it already? I haven’t even pulled out yet, and you’re already aching again.”

His fingers trailed down your front, ghosting over your abused clit—but never quite touching it.

You writhed helplessly. “Please…”

He chuckled. Dark. Mean.

“Oh? You want more?”

You nodded weakly, lips parted.

“You sure?” His teeth grazed your jaw. “You’ve been crying, moaning, twitching all night. Thought you were gonna black out a minute ago.”

Still, you gave him that look—half-begging, half-starved.

He kissed you. Deep. Sweet. Dirty.

Then his hips rolled forward slowly, pressing deeper, dragging a moan from your throat that made his cock twitch again.

“Yeah,” he groaned, low and filthy. “That’s the sound I wanted. You can stay just like this. Stuffed full. Dripping. Mine.”

You buried your face into his shoulder, whimpering as he kept you filled to the brim, cock stretching you gently while your body clenched and fluttered without rhythm. Not fucking—just holding—but still so intimate and obscene you were shaking again.

“You’re not leaving this room until I say so,” he whispered, licking the shell of your ear. “Not until I’ve memorized how this pretty pussy feels wrapped around me.”

You shivered.

“Not until you cum one more time,” he added.

One more.

But he didn’t thrust.

Just rolled his hips slowly. Barely.

Enough to rub your clit against his pelvis with each motion. Enough to make you cry, overstimulated and desperate, body begging for release.

And you gave it to him. One last time.

A soft, shattered moan, legs trembling again as your cunt clenched and fluttered around him. You came with a gasp, biting down on his shoulder to muffle the sound, your whole body going limp under him.

He groaned—filthy, satisfied—and kissed your neck again.

“Good fucking girl,” he whispered.

And he didn’t pull out.

Not for a long, long time.

[thirstkanaphan]

Ateez Hairstyle Battle Royale: Jongho

Find the Wooyoung poll HERE, Mingi HERE, Yeosang HERE, Yunho HERE, Seonghwa HERE, Hongjoong HERE, San HERE

Lavender

Red

Blonde

Cropped (Halazia)

Silvery Blonde (Wave era)

Peekaboo Forehead

Full Forehead

Red Streaks

Best Jongho Hairstyle

Lavender

Red

Blonde

Cropped

Silvery Blonde (Wave era)

Peekaboo Forehead

Full Forehead

Red Streaks

Voting ended onMay 9, 2025

[jjongsho]

This was difficult, but I went with full forehead. He's fine af in whatever style or hair color, but I do really like when he goes full forehead.

[kysstar]

RIDE & FALL | CHOI JONGHO

pairing : : choi jongho x fem!reader

synopsis : : biker!jongho headcanons

genre : : established relationship

warnings : : starting off soft, will get suggestive(almost nsfw?) in the end.

sfw !

biker jongho who always makes sure your helmet is strapped perfectly before he even thinks about starting the engine

biker jongho who has a special jacket just for you that matches his, insists you wear it every ride

biker jongho who taps your knee twice when it’s safe for you to loosen your hold around his waist

biker jongho who keeps a small photo of you tucked inside his wallet, right next to his bike license

biker jongho who grumbles about it, but secretly loves when you decorate his bike key with little charms

biker jongho who kisses your forehead every time you take your helmet off, no matter who’s around

biker jongho who leans back against his bike after a long ride and pulls you into his lap like you’re the most natural thing in the world

biker jongho who gets flustered when you wear his leather jacket and nothing else around the house

biker jongho who insists you sit in his lap while he works on the bike, letting you hand him tools just so you feel involved

biker jongho who plans scenic rides just because he knows you like taking sunset pictures together

biker jongho who buys you your own pair of riding gloves and brags about how “his girl looks better than him on the bike”

biker jongho who always rides slower when you’re tired so you can lean against his back and rest

biker jongho who makes it a thing to grab two hot chocolates after night rides instead of coffee because he knows you’ll sleep easier

biker jongho who lowkey wants you to sit in front sometimes so he can wrap his arms around you and guide your hands on the handlebars

biker jongho who texts you cute “made it safe” messages with little hearts whenever you can’t ride together

biker jongho who gets all shy when you brag about him to friends, rubbing the back of his neck and mumbling “it’s not a big deal”

biker jongho who slow dances with you next to the bike under the stars when you're too wired to sleep after night rides

biker jongho who refuses to let anyone else teach you bike maintenance because “if you’re learning, you’re learning from me”

biker jongho who sneaks kisses at red lights when he’s sure no one else is looking, even if you pretend to scold him after

biker jongho who looks at you like you’re his whole world every time you climb on behind him and wrap your arms around his waist

nsfw !

biker jongho who parks deep in the woods or empty lots just so he can bend you over the bike without worrying about getting caught

biker jongho who wears fingerless gloves that somehow make it impossible for you to think straight when he’s touching you

biker jongho who tugs you by your belt loops the second you’re off the bike, pinning you against it like he can’t wait

biker jongho who bites your neck lightly through your jacket collar just to hear you gasp and squirm

biker jongho who grabs a fistful of your hair to tilt your head back when he kisses you, deep and messy like he can’t get enough

biker jongho who mutters how you’re his favorite view on and off the bike, especially when you're panting his name

biker jongho who bites down on his leather glove and pulls it off with his teeth, all while keeping his gaze locked on you

biker jongho who makes you watch yourself in the bike’s chrome, praising how filthy and beautiful you look for him

biker jongho who pins your wrists above your head against the leather seat, his mouth hot and heavy against your pulse as he grinds into you

biker jongho who drags his leather jacket across your bare skin when you're stripped down, loving the contrast of cold against your heat

biker jongho who fists your hair lightly when you drop to your knees for him in the dark, rough voice telling you how perfect you are

biker jongho who bites the shell of your ear when you’re trying to act innocent, telling you how pretty you sound when you beg

biker jongho who kisses you slow and deep until you’re clinging to his jacket, hips grinding against yours like he can’t get close enough

biker jongho who shoves his jacket under your hips like a makeshift bed when he lays you out across the grass

biker jongho who kisses you slow and deep after everything, telling you he’s never letting you go anywhere without him again

© kysstar

[thesweetiepienovels]

“This is the group you love?”

“Yep.”

“Look at the screen, this is the group you love?”

“Yep, that’s them. ☺️”

[thirstkanaphan]

Slowly loosing the grip I had on trying to be respectful towards him