I did a night shift, I just inhaled 3 cans of Red Bull
Hongjoong
The lights were dim, the rain tapping softly against the windows, the entire room wrapped in a golden hush. Hongjoong’s music equipment blinked quietly in the background, long forgotten — just like the half-written lyrics on the desk and the forgotten glass of whiskey at the nightstand.
Because you were in his lap, naked and warm, straddling him on the couch. His hands were gripping your hips as you rocked against him, your bare chest brushing his with every breath. The slow friction was almost cruel, almost teasing — but he let you take the lead, for now. Watching. Panting. Barely keeping it together.
“Fuck, baby…” he muttered, head falling back against the couch. “You feel so good. So fucking perfect.”
You leaned in, lips brushing his jaw. He smelled like amber and sin, his voice deep and ragged in your ear.
And that’s when you said it. Soft. Breathless. Barely above a whisper.
"오빠… 너무 좋아…"
(Oppa… it feels so good…)
The air shifted.
His entire body stiffened beneath you — like you’d yanked a string inside him and snapped it. Slowly, his head turned to face you, eyes wide and dark and blown-out. And for the first time that night, he looked completely wrecked.
“You just—” His voice cracked. “Did you just say that in Korean?”
You smiled, biting your lip shyly, and nodded.
“I’ve been practicing,” you whispered. “For you.”
There was a pause.
Then he growled, deep and visceral, grabbing the back of your neck and kissing you hard. His tongue was filthy, possessive — no space for softness now. Just need.
“You’re gonna be the fucking death of me,” he whispered against your mouth. “Say it again.”
You blinked, flushed. “Now?”
He flipped you.
One sharp movement and you were flat on the couch, wrists pinned above your head, Hongjoong towering over you, hair tousled, expression dark and reverent all at once. His hips pressed flush against yours, his cock grinding into you, slow and thick and unforgiving.
“Now,” he said, kissing down your throat. “Say it again while I’m inside you.”
You moaned. “오빠… 너무 좋아…”
He snapped his hips forward.
You gasped — the stretch, the way he filled you, how his name sounded in your own voice in another language — it all collided into something overwhelming.
“That’s it,” he growled. “Keep talking. I want to hear you fall apart in Korean.”
He started to move — deep and slow, every thrust deliberate, his teeth grazing your neck between kisses. His hand slipped under your thigh, hiking it higher, angling you just right.
“말해. Come on, baby. Say it like you mean it.”
(Say it.)
Your head was spinning.
“당신 거야… 오직 당신만…”
(I’m yours… only yours…)
That broke him.
His mouth dropped to your shoulder as he thrust harder, hips slamming into yours, your bodies moving in perfect rhythm. Every word from you made him rougher — not angry, just desperate. Like hearing you speak his language, in this way, in this moment, flipped a switch he didn’t even know he had.
“You have no idea what that does to me,” he groaned, grabbing your face. “You could ask me to do anything in Korean right now and I’d fucking do it.”
You whimpered beneath him, fingers clutching his back, legs wrapping tighter around his waist. He was getting close — you could tell by how his rhythm broke, how his breath stuttered.
Then you whispered, right in his ear:
“Please don’t stop… 더 원해…”
(I want more…)
Hongjoong cursed so loud you were sure someone would hear. He grabbed your hips with both hands and slammed into you, chasing your high with you, panting your name, sweat dripping from his forehead.
The orgasm hit you like a wave — your body arching, back bowing, the words slipping from your lips between gasps and moans. And he followed, groaning into your skin as he spilled inside you, pulsing with every thrust until he collapsed, forehead pressed against yours.
Seonghwa
It started with fingers tangled in sheets and a kiss that didn’t want to end.
The room was silent except for the sound of your breathing and the soft rustle of skin on skin. Seonghwa was stretched out over you, shirtless, his toned body pressed flush to yours, every inch of him warm and strong. He kissed you slowly, tenderly — like you were the only thing he wanted to taste, like he had nowhere else to be.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” he whispered against your lips, always gentle. Always careful with you.
But you didn’t want gentle.
Not tonight.
You grabbed his face, pulling him into another kiss, this one deeper, needier — and rolled your hips up into his. He groaned, a soft broken sound, and rocked back down, finally giving you pressure where you needed it most.
His lips moved to your throat, then down your chest, his breath warm, his tongue trailing slow circles that left your skin burning. You were already panting, hands in his hair, nails dragging lightly across his shoulders.
And then — just as he was about to push into you — you whispered it.
“너만 원해… 하동화…”
(You’re the only one I want… Ha Donghwa…)
Seonghwa stilled.
Completely.
His gaze lifted to yours, wide and stunned, his lips parted in disbelief.
“What… what did you just say?”
You swallowed. Heart thudding. “Did I say it wrong?”
He sat up slightly, still inside you but not moving, his hand brushing your cheek so delicately it almost hurt.
“No,” he breathed. “You said it perfectly.”
He stared at you like he was seeing you for the first time — like you’d reached into the center of his chest and squeezed without warning.
“You learned that for me?” His voice was trembling now. “You’ve been learning Korean?”
You nodded, suddenly shy beneath his adoring stare.
His forehead dropped to yours.
“Fuck,” he whispered, voice shaking. “Do you know what that does to me?”
You opened your mouth to answer — but then he started moving.
Deep. Slow. Worshipful.
You gasped, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively as he rocked into you, each thrust purposeful and steady. He kept his face close to yours, watching every expression, drinking in every sound you made.
“Say it again,” he murmured, lips brushing yours. “Please…”
You obeyed, your voice breathy and uneven.
“너만 원해…”
He groaned — low and desperate — and kissed you like he was losing control.
The softness unraveled.
He started moving faster, driving into you with more force, hands clutching at your hips like he couldn’t get enough. He whispered in Korean now too, messy and feverish, his voice broken:
“내 거야… 아무도 널 못 가져… 너는 내 거야…”
(You’re mine… no one else can have you… you’re mine…)
Hearing him — understanding even a little — made you melt. You could feel him getting closer, the pace becoming urgent, his hands everywhere.
You cupped his face and murmured, one last time:
“당신만 원해…”
(Only you…)
And he lost it.
He came with a strangled moan, burying his face in your neck as he held you so tightly it felt like he was scared you’d vanish. You followed right after, shaking beneath him, your nails leaving marks on his back.
Yunho
It started with laughter.
You were straddling him on the bed, his back resting against the headboard, both of you half-naked and flushed from kissing. He’d said something stupid and sweet — something that made you throw your head back and giggle. And he just stared at you, eyes full of warmth and something darker.
“You’re so beautiful when you laugh,” he murmured, voice low and genuine. “Like… painfully beautiful.”
You smiled, cheeks burning. “You’re just saying that to get in my pants.”
Yunho grinned. “I’m already in your pants.”
You blinked, then looked down — and sure enough, you were grinding on his hard length through your panties, and neither of you had even noticed how fast things were heating up.
His hands found your hips, guiding you gently, encouraging the movement. You gasped softly, bracing your hands on his chest as you began to roll your hips in slow, steady circles.
“God,” he groaned, letting his head fall back. “I could come just like this.”
You leaned in, your lips brushing his ear.
And then — with a confidence you didn’t even know you had — you whispered:
“너 때문에 미쳐…”
(You’re driving me crazy…)
Yunho froze.
His hands stilled. His chest stopped rising. He slowly turned his head to look at you — wide-eyed and dazed.
“Wait… what? What did you just say?”
You smirked, heart pounding. “Did I get it right?”
His eyes darkened instantly. “You did,” he said, voice gravelly. “You fucking did.”
Before you could speak again, Yunho grabbed you by the waist, flipped you beneath him in one fluid motion, and settled between your legs. The look on his face had completely changed — still soft, still Yunho, but now with fire behind his eyes.
“Say it again.”
You blinked up at him, lips parted. “Wha—”
He kissed you hard, sliding your panties aside with one hand and guiding himself to your entrance with the other.
“Say it again, baby,” he murmured against your mouth. “And don’t stop saying it until I make you scream.”
You moaned, body arching beneath him.
“너 때문에… 미쳐…”
(You’re driving me… crazy…)
He slammed into you.
Your head fell back with a cry, and Yunho groaned low in your ear.
“God, your voice—your fucking voice saying that—” He thrust again, deep and hard. “You have no idea what you’ve just started.”
You were gasping, clawing at his back as he picked up the pace. Every movement felt precise, relentless — like he wanted to bury himself so deep you’d never forget what he felt like.
“You’re amazing,” he panted. “So fucking smart. So sexy. And now you’re turning me on with my own language?”
You barely managed to whimper another breathless “너 때문에…” before his hand slid down to your thigh, pushing your legs wider, deeper, closer—
Your orgasm hit you like a wave — all-consuming and sudden, your body trembling under him. And he wasn’t far behind, the heat in his gaze turning molten as he buried himself in you with one final groan, spilling into you with his name on your lips.
Yeosang
It was quiet.
Not awkward quiet — but peaceful. Intimate. The kind of quiet that existed only between two people who trusted each other with everything.
Yeosang had you beneath him on the bed, the silky sheets bunched around your bodies, his bare skin warm against yours. His hands were gentle, lips exploring you like you were something sacred. His touch wasn’t hurried. He never was. He liked to savor things — you especially.
“You’re so beautiful like this,” he whispered, kissing down your collarbone. “So real.”
You tangled your fingers in his hair and held him closer, your thighs parting instinctively as he slid against your soaked heat. You were already trembling under him, his slow movements teasing and careful, like he was worshipping every inch of you.
And still — you wanted more.
Your breath hitched, lips brushing against his ear.
“상아… 제발 멈추지 마…”
(Sangie… please don’t stop…)
He stilled.
Completely.
You felt it instantly — the way his muscles tensed, how his body went rigid above you. He pulled back, looking down at you with wide, stunned eyes.
“What… did you just say?”
You flushed, suddenly shy. “I-I just… I’ve been learning. For a while. I thought—”
“Say it again.”
His voice was low. Different. Almost… trembling.
You hesitated, but his hand slid to cup your cheek, eyes locked on yours.
“Please,” he whispered.
So you did.
“상아… 멈추지 마…”
(Sangie… don’t stop…)
Something snapped in him.
He groaned — loud and raw — and crashed his lips to yours, swallowing the last syllable as he thrust into you hard, all gentleness thrown to the wind. You gasped, digging your nails into his back, shocked at the sudden roughness, the fire in his eyes.
“You’ve been learning Korean this whole time?” he rasped between kisses. “And you never told me?”
His pace grew relentless, his grip tighter, hips slamming into you in perfect rhythm. The Yeosang you knew — quiet, composed — was completely gone. Replaced by someone hungry. Possessive. Unhinged.
“Say more,” he growled. “Say it again. Anything.”
Your voice was shaky, breathless, but you obeyed.
“당신 거야… 너만 원해…”
(I’m yours… I only want you…)
He cursed in Korean, forehead pressed to yours, his entire body trembling as he drove into you harder, deeper. You could barely think — his name falling from your lips like a prayer, your moans rising with every thrust.
“I can’t believe you did this,” he whispered hoarsely. “You’re gonna ruin me.”
Your orgasm hit fast — white-hot and uncontrollable — and you screamed his name, your whole body clenching around him. He followed with a desperate groan, spilling into you as he held you tight, like he didn’t know how to let go.
San
It was chaotic from the start.
San had you pressed up against the wall in the hallway, both of you half-dressed from how urgently you’d torn at each other’s clothes. Your shirt hung open, your underwear already somewhere on the floor, and his sweatpants were barely hanging on.
“Couldn’t even wait to make it to the bedroom,” he panted against your mouth, grinning like a devil. “You’re really that desperate for me, huh?”
You grabbed his face and kissed him hard, cutting off the cocky remark. Your hips bucked against his, seeking more friction, and San groaned — low, from deep in his throat — as he slipped his hand between your legs.
“Fuck… you’re soaked.”
His fingers teased you, slow at first, then faster. You gasped, squirming, clutching at his shoulders.
And then — in a moment of reckless courage — you moaned:
“산… 너무 깊어…”
(Sannie… it’s so deep…)
He went dead still.
His hand froze, his lips hovering just above your neck.
“…What,” he said slowly, breath hot.
You blinked up at him, your cheeks flushed. “Was that okay?”
He pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes — and what you saw there wasn’t confusion. It was pure hunger.
“You’ve been learning Korean,” he whispered. “And you waited until now to use it?”
You didn’t have time to answer. In a flash, he lifted you up — effortlessly — and slammed you against the wall, hooking your legs around his waist. Before you could even catch your breath, he was inside you, burying himself to the hilt in one thrust.
You cried out, nails digging into his back.
“Shit, baby,” he groaned. “You’re too good to me.”
He started moving — fast, deep, relentless. His hands gripped your thighs like he was afraid you’d slip away, his hips slamming into you with filthy precision.
“Say it again. Say that shit again in Korean.”
You moaned, head falling back against the wall.
“너무… 깊어…”
(It’s so… deep…)
That did it.
He snapped.
One hand wrapped around your throat, not squeezing — just holding you still — while his mouth kissed and bit down your jaw.
“God, I love hearing that from you,” he growled. “You saying my name like that — fuck — I’ll never be the same.”
He didn’t slow down. If anything, he got rougher, chasing both your highs like a man possessed. You were seeing stars, body writhing, the dirty words falling from your lips in broken syllables.
You whimpered again, voice shaking:
“산… 당신 거야…”
(San… I’m yours…)
His head dropped to your shoulder as he came hard, with a guttural moan that vibrated against your skin. You followed seconds later, your legs trembling, your whole body pulsing with heat.
Mingi
Mingi had you laid out on his bed like he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to devour you or worship you.
His lips were everywhere — your neck, your chest, the inside of your thighs — moving like he couldn’t stand to leave any part of you untouched. You were already trembling under him, wrists pinned above your head with one large hand, your legs open and shaking, your entire body burning for him.
“You’re killing me, baby,” he muttered, dragging his tongue slowly down your stomach. “You’re gonna ruin me.”
You moaned his name, arching up into him as his hips settled between your thighs. He was already hard and heavy, brushing against your slick entrance, teasing you, driving you mad.
“Mingi, please…”
He smirked, leaning down to kiss your jaw. “What, baby? You want it?”
You nodded desperately, whimpering.
“Say it again,” he growled. “Say you want me.”
But instead, you whispered:
“나 당신 꺼야…”
(I’m yours…)
He froze.
Then groaned so loud it echoed off the walls.
“You did not just—”
His grip tightened on your wrists. His body jerked like your words physically rocked through him. And when he looked down at you again, his eyes were dark — totally wrecked.
“You… learned that for me?” he asked, voice hoarse.
You nodded, breathless. “Just a little. For you.”
“Baby…”
He didn’t finish the sentence. Instead, he slammed into you, hard and sudden, making you cry out and clutch at his shoulders.
“You’re mine?” he hissed. “You wanna say that shit in Korean and expect me to stay sane?”
You gasped, moaning as he began to move — fast and rough, fucking you into the mattress like he had something to prove. His hand slid under your thigh, hiking it higher, tilting your hips up so he could hit deeper, harder, every time.
“Say it again,” he growled. “Please, say it again. I need to hear it.”
You were nearly sobbing, the pleasure unbearable — but you obeyed.
“당신 거야… 민기야, 제발…”
(I’m yours… Mingi, please…)
He let out a long, broken moan, slamming into you so deep you saw stars.
“Fuck, you sound so hot saying that,” he gasped. “You’re gonna make me come just from that voice.”
The bed rocked under you, the room filled with the wet sounds of skin on skin and your mingled moans. You were unraveling fast — every thrust pushing you closer to the edge, every word sending him deeper into obsession.
Then you whimpered one final time:
“오직 너야…”
(Only you…)
Mingi broke.
He cursed, loud and rough, burying himself to the hilt as he spilled inside you, his whole body shaking. You followed him seconds later, your orgasm crashing over you like a wave, making your body arch and shudder beneath him.
Wooyoung
You didn’t know how it got this far — one second, you were sitting on the couch in nothing but his oversized shirt, teasing him with your bare thighs as he played a game, and the next thing you knew, you were pinned to the wall, legs around his waist, Wooyoung’s mouth on your neck like he was starving.
“You think you’re cute, walking around like that?” he growled between kisses. “Acting all innocent?”
His hands were everywhere — squeezing your ass, tugging at the shirt like he wanted it off, grinding his hard cock right against your soaked center.
You moaned, tugging at his hair. “You were the one ignoring me!”
“I wasn’t ignoring you,” he smirked. “I was waiting to see how long you could keep pretending you weren’t begging for this.”
He carried you to the bedroom without ever letting you down — tossing you on the mattress and stripping you naked with practiced ease. In seconds, he was on top of you, hips rocking against yours, lips crashing into yours like a challenge.
“Say it,” he whispered against your lips. “Say how bad you want me.”
You locked eyes with him, heart racing, and whispered:
“오빠… 너무 좋아요…”
(Oppa… it feels so good…)
Silence.
Wooyoung froze like he’d been electrocuted.
“…What the fuck?” His voice was raspy. “What. The actual. Fuck.”
He stared at you like you’d just unleashed something dangerous.
“Say that again,” he hissed.
You blinked, nervous. “I—”
“No. Say it again. Say it exactly like that.”
You swallowed — heat rushing to your face — and repeated:
“오빠… 너무 좋아요…”
He growled.
Actually growled.
“Oh, it’s fucking over for you.”
In a blink, he flipped you onto your stomach, yanked your hips up, and slammed into you from behind, burying himself to the hilt. You cried out, gripping the sheets, your body jolting from the sudden intensity.
“You were keeping that from me?” he groaned. “You’ve been learning Korean and you used it like that?”
He was ruthless now, fucking you hard and deep, the slapping sounds echoing off the walls. One hand gripped your hip tight, the other slid into your hair, yanking it gently to make you arch.
“Say it again. Keep saying it. I wanna hear my name in your voice in my language.”
You moaned helplessly, tears threatening from how good it felt.
“오빠… 너무 좋아요… 제발…”
That shattered him.
He pounded into you, merciless and panting, curses falling from his lips in Korean.
“내 여자야… 이건 다 내 거야… 누구 것도 아니야…”
(You’re my girl… all of this is mine… no one else’s…)
His pace got sloppy as he neared his peak, hips jerking as he reached down to rub your clit in time with his thrusts. You were a mess beneath him, moaning in broken syllables, shaking and babbling.
“오직 너야… 우영아… 당신만…”
(Only you… Wooyoung… only you…)
You both came hard, your body convulsing as you screamed his name, while he groaned your praises against your back, still buried deep inside you.
Jongho
It was one of those slow, late nights — the kind where everything felt softer, quieter, more vulnerable. Jongho had lit a single candle on the nightstand, and the rest of the room was cast in warm, flickering shadows.
He had you wrapped in his arms, bodies tangled under the sheets, your bare legs hooked over his hips. The intimacy was quiet but heavy — loaded. He moved with such steady control, every thrust deep and rhythmic, his mouth brushing over your skin as he held you close.
“You feel so good,” he whispered, breath warm against your collarbone. “Every time. Like you were made for me.”
You moaned, your fingers sliding into his hair, clinging to him as his hips rocked into yours, slow but deep enough to make your toes curl.
He kissed you again — gentle at first, then deeper. Hungrier.
Your whole body was burning with the need to tell him how much you loved this — how much you loved him. So you gathered every bit of courage and whispered it softly into his ear:
“정호야… 네 거야…”
(Jongho… I’m yours…)
He froze.
Completely.
His breath caught in his throat. He pulled back just far enough to look you in the eye, still inside you, his hand trembling slightly against your jaw.
“What did you just say?”
Your voice was barely a whisper. “I… I’ve been learning. I just wanted to say it. For you.”
His face went blank for a second — like he short-circuited.
Then he exhaled slowly, his expression shifting into something you’d never seen before.
“Again,” he said, voice low. Stern. Commanding. “Say it again.”
“네 거야…”
(I’m yours…)
That was all it took.
Jongho’s hand slipped under your thigh and hitched your leg higher. His hips snapped forward — not fast, but hard. Deep. Possessive. Like he wanted to remind you exactly what “yours” meant.
“You can’t say that and expect me to stay calm,” he muttered. “Do you even understand what that does to me?”
You nodded shakily, your whole body alight with need.
“I wanted to surprise you…”
He thrust again — even deeper — dragging a long moan from your lips.
“You did,” he breathed. “You surprised me, baby. Now you’re gonna take everything I give you.”
He fucked you slowly but mercilessly, each stroke angled perfectly, his body flush against yours. The contrast of his usual gentle demeanor and this quiet, obsessed dominance was dizzying.
“Say it again,” he ordered. “Say it till you forget how to speak anything else.”
You whimpered, obeying between moans.
“정호야… 당신 거야… 네 거야…”
(Jongho… I’m yours… all yours…)
He groaned so deep it rumbled in his chest. His grip tightened. His pace stuttered, desperate now, as he chased his climax with trembling restraint.
“Mine,” he growled. “You’re mine.”
You both came hard — together — your name and his tangled in broken cries as your bodies shook from the intensity. He stayed inside you, breathing heavily, head resting on your shoulder like he didn’t want the moment to end.
Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Yandere, Obsession, Fear, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Touching, Dub-Con, Cunnilingus, Breaking and Entering, Symptoms of Panic/Anxiety, Stalking, Depictions of Gore, Blood, Anger Issues, Dismemberment, MC had a fear of death, MC has agoraphobia, but MC is in therapy (good for her), Jin is kind of an asshole but we love it, kind of pet-playish(?), Jin is basically a sugar daddy tbh
I do not condone the acts displayed in this story nor do I believe any members of BTS would actually engage in this type of behavior. This is simply written for entertainment purposes and should not be taken as a reflection of my own values, opinions, or morals.
Preview: Your eyebrows furrowed as you peered over your shoulder. Sure enough, there were a few dark eyes staring back at you - but there was one pair in particular that really caught your attention. There was a man in a roped-off section of the club, a velvet curtain drawn to the side to reveal him seated on an ornate chair. He looked like a king watching over his people, and you meant that not only because of his position but because of his features as well. It was undeniable that he was the most attractive person in the room, hell, the most attractive person you had ever seen. Smooth pale skin, plush lips in a permanent pout, dark eyes, and the widest set of shoulders with a slender waist. He was a work of art. He had this look on his pretty features as if he had just tasted something bitter, and that look was directed behind you.
A/N: I have been working on this fic since July and I am so happy that it is finally done and you guys will be able to read it! I really hope the time this took was worth it and that the fic was worth the hype lol. It’s almost one thirty in the morning and I have a quiz so I really should be sleeping. I think this is one of my favorite installments of the series! I hope you enjoy the fic and as always I can’t wait to see you in my inbox and my comments. Ily 💜💜💜
Kim Seokjin had not only a pretty face but a brilliant mind as well.
At least, that’s what he told everyone.
If there was a singular sin that he could fully encompass it would be vanity. And the sin that he shared with nearly everyone in his “family” was that of pride: a deadly and violent mix. That blend was what led to his damnation.
He knew that he deserved only the best and nothing less, that was exactly how he had been raised when he was still human. In the late 1800s, he had been granted the privilege of being born into high-class society as the eldest son, the heir to the Kim legacy. Everything he wanted was directly at his fingertips and at his disposal. From the moment he was born he was guaranteed power, and that was something he wished to never lose.
As the heir to a luxury wine company, it was only expected that alcohol, parties, and lewd behavior were set to follow him, and he exceeded those expectations. But he was good at keeping business and pleasure as two distinctly separate functions.
And with the life he lived, it was not often that individuals met his expectations. And by individuals, he meant potential wives. Naturally, it was expected of him to marry and continue the family's legacy. But the gold spoon that he was born with in his mouth tainted the pool. No one was good enough for him and that caused much strife within the family.
He was well past the age of marrying at twenty-eight years old. He was beginning to feel the pressure his father and mother were putting on his shoulders. And, not to mention, he was well aware that he was aging. Of course, he would never admit that his looks were fading. There was not a crease in his skin or a gray hair to be plucked, but he could feel it. He could see the minute imperfections that no one else could. It made his skin crawl in disgust.
And then Kim Namjoon entered the frame and everything began to come together.
His mother had insisted on organizing yet another party to find him a wife under the guise that he was there to make several important business deals. But when the vast majority of partygoers were young women with stars in their eyes he knew what was really going on. And of course, he was not going to stick around and socialize with subpar candidates. If he were going to do that it would be restricted to his bedroom, of course.
Namjoon had come to that party that night, Yoongi in tow despite his protests. Namjoon was a cultured man, he liked to mingle with the members of high society from time to time. It helped him learn what was appropriate for the decade as trends (in manners, clothing, and amusement) came and went rapidly. And those who belonged to the upper class were those who set those trends. It was strategic and it helped his kind blend in as seamlessly as possible.
And Jin was the epitome of a high-class man.
And so, Namjoon and Yoongi befriended him. It hadn’t been hard for them, they had been around for so long that they fit right in. And Jin had merely thought he found more of the few people that could meet his high expectations - his small inner circle growing with two new additions. But of course, that friendship had started out with the purpose of using Jin for what he had.
So in turn, he used them.
While Jin had a pretty face, he actually was quite smart and observant. He took note of his companions' odd behavior. He never saw them during the daytime, only in the veil of the night. They had the oddest colored eyes - not quite black but a deep shade of burgundy like the embers of a smoldering fire laid within their depths. And they were cold, absolutely frigid to the touch like a corpse. It didn’t take him very long to piece together what they were, and it was only proven true when he caught the both of them feasting on lifeless corpses in his guest room. He timed everything just perfectly to discover their true nature.
Yoongi had seemed genuinely surprised, bloody lips parted in shock as he stood as still as a statue, the limp body still collapsed in his iron grasp.
Namjoon, on the other hand, was smiling. He too was not able to conceal his nature any longer but he wasn’t trying either. He took his time and continued to finish his meal despite the obvious living human presence in the room.
“You two have been holding out on me,” Jin said with a disappointed tone.
“Holding out?” Namjoon echoed before relaxing his arms and allowing the corpse to slip down to the floor, the thinnest drizzle of blood pooling onto the parquet flooring.
Yoongi could only stare at the both of them, his eyes darting back and forth between the two other men.
“Yes, holding out! You are immortal are you not?”
“Yes, we are, and I’m sure you’ve figured out the rest by now haven’t you?”
“You may have been able to fool all of those other halfwits but it was painfully obvious to me, of course.”
“Of course.” Namjoon nodded while trying to suppress an amused grin.
“I want in, I wish to join you and your kind.”
“No,” Yoongi immediately cut in, “You don’t know what you’re asking for, this is a curse it is not something to take lightly and flirt with the notion of.”
His tone was harsh, his face stern but there was evident pain behind his eyes. Yoongi had been forced into this life if that was what you could even call it. He couldn’t fathom someone willingly agreeing to eternal damnation and he would try his hardest to convince them otherwise.
“Are you denying me?” Jin asked, his face contorted in utter disbelief. He was never denied anything in his twenty-eight years of life and the feeling of rejection was infuriating.
“Yoongi, it’s his decision,” Namjoon interjected, his hand wiping the blood from his mouth leaving a streaky crimson trail behind.
“You’re not actually considering this, are you?” Yoongi hissed.
“What is there to consider? He’s already seen us and he knows what he wants.”
“He has no idea what he wants!”
“And why are you speaking for me? Just because you’re miserable and dissatisfied does not mean the same will be said for me!” Jin spat. “I grow tired of this human body. Every second of every day I feel myself wasting away and there is not a thing I can do about it.”
“You would throw away your humanity, your life, all in the name of vanity?” Yoongi asked in disbelief.
“And for greed as well,” Jin laughed, “Believe me, I am many things and one of them is self-aware. I am a selfish bastard and I am perfectly fine with that. I won’t allow my looks to fade and my fortune will grow as centuries pass. This is what I desire and I refuse to concede.”
He was a businessman in every aspect.
“It sounds like he’s made his choice, Yoongi.” Namjoon finally spoke.
“It sounds like he’s made an ignorant choice and I refuse to have any part in this,” Yoongi said, storming past the two of them and slamming the door shut with enough force that the mahogany wood cracked by the handle.
“So, are we going to fuck about or will you give me what I want?” Jin asked, his impatience growing.
“I consider you a good friend, Jin. I won't lie, I am pleased that you are asking this of me.” Namjoon smiled before grabbing Jin’s shoulder, “We’re all lonely children looking for a place where we belong.”
Lonely children, that was one way to put it. Namjoon was not entirely wrong. In a world where you deserved only the best, many fell short and in the end, you were painfully alone, whether you were willing to admit it or not.
“Before we go through with this, there are some things you should know.”
“What things?”
“You can’t go in the sun, not just yet, you’ll be far too young and far too sensitive to light. Quiet, dark, scentless places are going to be the best place to stay - your senses are going to be heightened tenfold. You must feed often in the early years, you’re going to be very hungry, bloodthirsty really so you need to stay away from large crowds of people.”
Jin was silent for a moment, his eyes shifting from left to right and back again as he processed everything he was told. He could manage, and he could figure out how to do all of those things while maintaining his position as an heir.
“Lastly, do not try and do this alone. In our world, there is strength in numbers as well as safety. You’ll have to stay with me and Yoongi, we will all be bound to one another as creator and creation.”
“So when you two leave…”
“You will follow.” Namjoon nodded, “We try to stay in one place for as long as we can so if it’s your family you’re worried about you’ll have plenty of time to figure something out.”
But they weren’t coming with him. As terrible as it was, that wasn’t a great enough reason to sway his decision. He still wanted what he desired and he was willing to let his family go. So he stuck out his hand, ready to shake on the agreement.
“I accept the conditions.”
~~~~~~~
Most people were afraid of spiders, some of heights, and many feared drowning. But you feared something a bit more abstract and with a bit more finality. You were afraid of aging and by association, you were incredibly afraid of death.
And that fear often leads you to do a few things. One of them was to start skincare at an absurdly young age. The other was to hermit yourself inside of your house out of fear of some horrific accident befalling you. And the other was to seek out strange and obscure places to visit before you die. It was odd that the last two coincide but they do.
There were days when you were so frightened that you couldn’t stand the thought of leaving the comfort of your bed. And then you had days where you felt daring, if you were going to die one day would you really want to have lived your only life trapped inside of your own house? There were your good days and your bad days and they came and went like the tides.
Today was a “good” day. And by good day that meant you were on your laptop scrolling through forums trying to find a new place to visit. Living in a small town was hard, you knew everyone and every place because they were so few in number. But sometimes there were locations in between towns, or hidden spots in your own. Briar Hills is an old town, a historical town even. It’s not uncommon for places to be abandoned, concrete skeletons collapsing and being devoured by the flora.
It was finding them, buried in hundreds of posts, that was difficult. The teenagers in the town had taken to reclaiming those places, turning them into party spots in the blink of an eye. But that has changed in the past few months. Ever since the first body turned up.
That was the thing about small towns, murder was much rarer than the action that cities see. So, when dozens of corpses begin to show up in streams and lakes and people begin to go missing without a trace - panic ensues. As well as a town-wide curfew.
Briar Hills turned into a ghost town after dark. The streets would be empty, lit by a few lampposts spread down the street that was easily consumed by a thick, hazy fog. Every now and then the fog would be broken by police lights, red and blue shocks of color dispersing the mist as the night patrol came around the block. It looked like something out of a horror movie.
And, if it weren’t a good day, the sight alone would be enough to keep you corralled in your room. But it was a good day and you had become stir-crazy from staying in your house for the past few weeks.
After endless scrolling there was one post in particular that caught your attention. It looked like an extravagant invitation with a satin black background and deep red embellishments. It had very little interaction and it was written in a completely different language. For something as obscure as an abandoned place in a small town you weren’t surprised that it had gone unnoticed, especially considering few people checked this forum.
Putting the text into google translate had not been insanely helpful. The translated text was jumbled and made little sense, it was one of those languages that did not thrive when it came to longer translations. But you were interested and fairly stubborn and after extended research and decoding fragmented sentences you were left with this:
“The best bite I’ve ever had,” And following that was a set of coordinates that had been written out instead of just using their numerical counterparts.
You were interested.
What could that mean? Maybe it was some hole-in-the-wall restaurant, but why all the decorum? Why the translations? Who even uses coordinates anymore? The best way to get the answers you desired was to discover them for yourself.
That’s how you ended up sneaking out of your house, dressed head to toe in dark colors, like some teenager that’s about to disappoint their parents. Except, in this case, your parents were the cops, and being grounded would equate to being detained for violating the town-wide curfew. All the more reason to not get caught.
You started to get cold feet when you realized where the set of coordinates was leading you, your body came to a fast stop when the toes of your boots met the edge of the forest. The forest, at night, with low visibility, and predators prowling was a bad move. That just screamed a sudden and violent death, not to mention the bulk of missing persons' corpses had been found within its depths. This was a stupid idea, a bad move, but it was a good day and you were too stubborn to follow reason. You would make up for it tomorrow by hiding in your bed all day. It was an unhealthy coping mechanism, but a coping mechanism nonetheless.
You took a deep breath, squared your shoulders, and took a step forward. There was no going back now, you had made up your mind.
The further into the forest you trekked the quieter it became. It didn’t make sense. You were getting further from society so why was it so quiet? The wind was still, not a branch or leaf trembled, and not even a cricket dared to chirp. It was like every living creature had up and left, abandoning their home. The only sound that filled the static silence was the bubbling rush of water from the river.
You began to walk faster, your nerves urging you to get where you were going and be done with it. On top of that, your eyes were starting to play tricks on you, your brain attempting to make sense of the dark and fill in what was missing resulting in ominous shadows shifting through the trees. You were regretting your decision immensely, so you picked up the pace and began humming to yourself to fill the silence.
If you were being honest, you really had no idea what you were supposed to be looking for. The post hadn’t listed much of anything and you weren’t sure what would be at the end of the coordinates. But, the red light glowing in the distance was a sure sign of something. It grew more intense as you neared it, the light getting stronger the closer to the ground it was. When you finally pushed through the underbrush you were met with a set of concrete stairs leading down into the ground and at the very bottom was an old metal door with a faintly pulsing red light above it. Looking down at your phone you were able to verify that you had made it to where the coordinates were marked.
It was a bomb shelter. It was most likely one for the community back in the forties, an evacuation and safe point for those who didn’t have their own. It must have been abandoned and forgotten about after the war, left to rot there for the past eighty years. But if that light was anything to go by, it must have been reclaimed by someone.
You carefully stepped down the stairs, applying a little weight at a time to make sure that the concrete hadn’t eroded and wouldn’t crumble beneath you. When you reached the bottom you tried the door and to your surprise, it opened with a creak. There was a long tunnel just barely lit by candles lining the walls leaving deep shadows in between them. And now you could feel the walls thumping, steadily vibrating with a muffled bass. That meant there was another chamber somewhere.
You hesitantly traveled down the tunnel, long stretches of the floor would eventually give way to more stairs leading you deeper and deeper underground. This was a claustrophobe's worst nightmare. The more you walked the harder the walls vibrated until you finally came upon another door where the sounds became the loudest. Above the door hung a purple neon sign that read: “Blood Sugar.”
Upon testing the door handle, you were surprised to find that it was unlocked, and once it slowly swung open your nose was assaulted with the scent of alcohol, sweat, and a coppery odor. You swiftly entered and closed the door behind you, trying your best not to bring too much attention to yourself. But it appears you would have no trouble doing so.
The room you had stepped into was massive, the walls were tall and rounded out at the ceiling and were made completely out of metal. But it was far from a barren, abandoned bunker. The room was packed with people, some dancing, some drinking, and others wrapped around one another on the various red velvet chaises spread around the space. The music was loud and the room was lit by antique chandeliers as well as deep purple lighting casting an ominous glow over everyone.
The bunker had been converted into a club of some sort and despite the decrepit tunnels you had slunk through to get here, it was surprisingly luxurious. You were honestly surprised the entire town hadn’t known about this place. That much was certainly true because, despite the large crowd, you could only recognize about five people you had seen before. The massive gathering was largely that of people that were not from Briar Hills.
A set of delicate hands slithered around your waist, tugging you sharply towards the stranger behind you. A shout of surprise parted your lips as you turned around, slapping the offending limbs off of you.
There was a tall woman facing you with a grin on her face, her bright white teeth glinting from behind her deep red lips. Her skin was so pale it was glowing with a purple hue from the lights, her long black curls creating an even sharper contrast against her skin. And you couldn’t explain why you felt the way you did, but the sight of those bright white teeth had your stomach twisting in knots. Despite her delicate appearance, every red flag was being raised in your body. The urge to run was strong.
“Hello, sweetheart,” She crooned, “You’re new, aren’t you?”
Something in the back of your mind demanded you lie.
“No, I’m not. If you’ll excuse me,” You said, your voice steady and cold despite the goosebumps on the back of your neck and the rapid thump of your pulse.
As you went to walk past her she easily stopped you with a hand on your shoulder, her face suddenly incredibly close as she pressed her nose to your hairline and took a deep breath. “Oh, you can’t lie to me, I remember every sweet little snack that comes in here.”
What. The. Fuck.
“Look, I’m not interested in…whatever that means,” You huffed, taking a few steps back and breaking free from her steel grasp, “I’m just here for a drink.”
“Oh?” She hummed, “So am I, I’m glad we can cut to the chase.”
“Okay?” You slowly asked before shuffling around her imposing figure, “See ya.”
You slipped into the crowd, forcing your way through the bodies in an attempt to shake her off of your trail. Anybody else in your position would have lingered for the ethereal woman, but you couldn’t ignore that feeling in the back of your mind or that tug deep in your gut. She was dangerous, and no pretty smile or sweet words could hide it. It was in times like these that your intense fear of death became present as paranoia, warning you of all potential threats.
When you started therapy you were encouraged to slowly step out of your comfort zone, to do things that would combat your anxieties. So, on good days, you try your best to succeed with these short-term goals hoping in the long run you could live normally like every other person your age. But you often found your anxiety creeping up on you and you knew after tonight you would need the rest of the week to recover and that meant avoidance which meant hiding out in your rented duplex.
But for now, you had to cope.
When you broke free from the crowd you stumbled forward, a stray limb jabbing you in the back and sending you reeling onto one of the velvet chaises. To your utter embarrassment, you landed right next to a couple that had left all of their inhibitions at the door like many other patrons of the underground club. The woman was straddling the man's thighs, her arms wrapped around his shoulders as he buried his head in the crook of her neck, her long locks obscuring his face. Although you couldn’t see what he was doing it didn’t take a genius to figure out what it was as the woman’s mouth opened to let out soft moans of pleasure.
Heat rushed up to your face as you stumbled off of the chaise and backed up from the voyeuristic lovers. Of course, you weren't innocent, but seeing something like that in person was different from shamelessly reading smut at three AM.
A few feet away from the couple was the bar. It was surprisingly empty for a club. The man you assumed to be the bartender behind the countertop was relaxing against it, his dark eyes scanning your awkward posture.
You swiftly approached the bar and yelled over the music, “Hi, how much is water?”
He gave you an amused chuckle before grabbing a small leather menu and sliding it over to you, “We don’t serve that here, sweetheart.”
You stared at him in confusion before flipping open the menu. The only thing listed there were various wines all costing an exorbitant amount of money, and by that, you meant at least three months' rent and that was just for a glass, not even the bottle.
“These prices are insane, are you kidding me?!”
“They’re from 1889, newbie.” He smiled, a grin identical to the woman from earlier.
“Well, this was a bust.” You groaned, the initial buzz of excitement from finding a town secret had long since faded.
“Can I offer you some advice?”
“Be my guest.”
“You might want to pay more attention to your surroundings, you’ve had eyes on you since you stepped foot in this place.”
Your eyebrows furrowed as you peered over your shoulder. Sure enough, there were a few dark eyes staring back at you - but there was one pair in particular that really caught your attention. There was a man in a roped-off section of the club, a velvet curtain drawn to the side to reveal him seated on an ornate chair. He looked like a king watching over his people, and you meant that not only because of his position but because of his features as well. It was undeniable that he was the most attractive person in the room, hell, the most attractive person you had ever seen. Smooth pale skin, plush lips in a permanent pout, dark eyes, and the widest set of shoulders with a slender waist. He was a work of art. He had this look on his pretty features as if he had just tasted something bitter, and that look was directed behind you.
“If I were you, I would get out of here. Things get crazy with fresh blood, ya know? The people here are like sharks in the water.” The bartender said, regaining your attention. “Uh oh, looks like you got one on your trail.”
You followed his and the pretty stranger’s gaze behind you. It was her again, the woman from earlier. She was slipping through the ocean of moving bodies with ease, her gait like that of a jaguar on the prowl as she approached. You watched as her polished fingers wiped away what looked like stray lipstick from beneath her lips.
Without thinking you darted away from the bar and past the pretty man, rushing through the first door you found which turned out to be the bathroom. Once the door fell shut you felt like you could relax for a moment. The music was muffled allowing you to think coherently for the first time since you had entered the bunker. Everything had become far too stimulating and you could feel your anxiety rising.
You leaned against the sink, turning the water on ice cold before splashing your face so that you could shock yourself back into clarity. You allowed yourself to brace the sink and relax your body, focusing on your breathing and grounding yourself before you lost control, just the way you were taught to.
The feeling of ice-cold fingers on your shoulders threw all of your work away.
You yelped and flinched, your eyes flying open to see her standing behind you in the reflection of the mirror.
“I knew you were a shy little thing, you should have just told me you wanted to do this privately.” She sighed with a sickeningly sweet smile.
In a moment of flight, fight, or freeze your body chose for you, your legs running without you telling them to do so. You didn’t make it far, not before she grabbed hold of you and threw you up against the wall. Your head hit the tile behind you so hard you saw stars.
“I’ve been hunting you down all night, you’ve made me build up quite the appetite. Do you know how many others I’ve had to threaten to get to you? Everyone always wants to take someone’s first bite.”
What the fuck was she talking about?
“While it was cute at first, we've played this game for long enough, don’t you think?”
“Let go of me!” You yelled while grabbing her wrists and trying to pry her hands off of you. To your complete and utter shock, she didn’t move an inch, it was like her bones were made of iron - immovable and inflexible.
“Now, now, don’t go throwing a tantrum that won’t get you anywhere.” She sighed, sliding her hand up your shoulder to wrap around your throat and squeeze.
Your throat and lungs burned as her grip slowly increased its pressure, your eyes watering as broken gasps and chokes for air gurgled past your lips.
“There there, much better.” She whispered into your ear as she released your throat, your body going limp as you gasped for air.
She easily gathered you up into her arms and softly tilted your head to the side, her perfectly polished nails grazing over the stretch of skin as she hummed before pressing her cherry-red lips to your throat.
“Don’t worry, you’ll feel a slight pinch.” She joked before her jaw widened and a demonic hiss left her throat as her teeth grazed the soft flesh of your vulnerable neck.
But before she could sink her teeth in she was harshly ripped away from you, her perfect face slammed so hard into the bathroom wall that the tiles shattered upon impact. A loud cry of pain echoed throughout the room as she pulled herself from the wall, black blood was pouring from her crooked nose and her sliced lips.
Behind her stood the stranger from before, a miffed and frankly disgusted expression marred his stunning features.
“What the fuck, Jin?!” She screamed, cupping her injured face.
“She’s not a fang banger, Junghee.”
Her once flawless features froze in shock as a look of horror crawled over her face. It was the look of someone who realized that they had made a horrible mistake.
“You’ve really fucked up this time.” He growled in irritation, a genuine growl that had your skin crawling.
“Well, how was I supposed to know?! What is she even doing here?!”
“That’s none of your concern anymore, get the fuck out!” He yelled, ripping the bathroom door open and throwing her out of the room.
You stayed pressed up against the wall out of pure terror. Vampires, you had walked into a fucking nest of vampires and had the closest brush with death you’ve ever had in your entire life. Your gaze remained locked on the vampire, Jin, as he calmed down; the waves of his rage slowly dissipating. In this lighting, you could finally see what you hadn’t been able to before in the dim club. Under the fluorescent lights, his eyes gleamed a vibrant, intimidating red.
You winced in fright as he took a step in your direction, your body attempting to meld into the wall behind you. Jin raised his eyebrow in questioning, taken aback by your apprehension. It wasn’t often he had humans cowering in fear, usually, they shook from…something else.
“Enough of that, come along human.” He snapped, grabbing you by your sleeve and easily dragging you from the room despite your protests and your heels digging into the ground. He was pulling you as if you weighed nothing.
“Let go!” You shrieked in terror, struggling against his hold with all of your might.
He came to a sudden halt, gripping you by your shoulder and pulling your body so close that there was barely an inch of space left between his chest and your own.
“Don’t you think you’ve drawn enough attention to yourself tonight?”
You peered over your shoulder, and sure enough, there were several of his kind watching the two of you from the dance floor. Their stares were curious and hungry. Unconsciously you shifted closer to him, choosing the lesser of two evils, one vampire versus many.
“Look at that you’re smart, for a human.” He snickered before guiding you back to the curtained area you had seen him sitting in before Junghee had cornered you in the bathroom.
“Sit, stay.” He said with a smirk as he pressed you down by your shoulder onto one of the couches before gesturing for someone to close the thick curtains.
“Look, I just want to go home. I won’t breathe a word about what happened here or what this place is, it was a mistake coming here.”
“A mistake indeed, but a mistake that needs correcting nonetheless,” Jin said with a distressed roll of his (impressive) shoulders. “So, tell me human, how did you find this place?”
You sat there in silence for a moment, your face the perfect image of confusion, “Are you being serious right now?”
“I don’t recall telling a joke.”
“You - there was a post online, on a forum? Anyone could have found it if they were looking close enough, it really wasn’t that hard to find. All I had to do was translate the text and it told me where to go.”
“A…forum?” He repeated, clearly confused.
Dear God, he was an old-ass vampire who didn't know much about technology or even the internet. He didn’t even know he had advertised the place. He was just an old man in a young man’s body.
“You know, a forum, it’s online, it's where people who want to discuss a certain topic go to. I was looking for obscure places, abandoned buildings, and lesser-known spots in town. I found the posting for this place and it just said ‘The best bite I’ve ever had’...I didn’t know it meant literally.” You said, your nerves leading you to ramble on and on.
Jin’s eyes pressed shut, his face contorting in anger as a hiss parted his lips, “Jimin.”
Jimin and himself were the only two vampires in their coven that knew about the club Jin hosted. Jin had been careless one night and Jimin had followed him, discovering the secret he had kept well hidden. Jin bought Jimin’s silence initially with limited access to the place, but now he was regretting every interaction he had had with the short vampire.
One of the few times Jin had found himself getting on with said vampire had led him to express his annoyance with the lack of human stock for the club. In turn, Jimin had offered to help “advertise” in exchange for unrestricted access to the club.
Now that he had figured out how the little human had snuck her way in, he had to decide what to do with her. He could always kill her, that would be the simple answer. He could drain her dry and snap her pretty neck in an instant. But that wasn’t really his style, he typically preferred to savor his meals unlike his gorger of a “brother”, Jungkook.
Perhaps the human could serve a purpose for him.
“Come, human.” He beckoned with his fingers.
You remained frozen in your seat, your body still in active survival mode keeping your joints locked.
Jin sighed, clearly miffed by your disobedience. He rose from his own seat only to cross the room and sit next to you. His long fingers gripped your chin and jerked your head up, forcing you to look at him. His hold was ice cold, the chill from his touch steadily seeping into your jaw. You felt paralyzed by his intimidating crimson gaze. His eyes flicked quickly over your features as he turned your head from side to side, taking in your every pore.
“Not bad, for a human. Don’t feel too offended, it’s difficult to look as flawless as myself.” He said with a casual tone as if he were merely stating a fact.
“You look pretty average to me,” You blurted out the lie, your lips moving before your brain could stop you from verbalizing.
It was so fast you almost couldn't see it but it was there, his left eye twitched and his grip tightened forcing a slight whine of pain from you. He roughly jerked your head to the side, choosing to ignore what you said despite how much it clearly bothered him. Instead, he trained his focus on your neck, pulling the collar of your shirt down past your collarbone.
“Smooth,” He observed, his icy touch skipping over the skin of your throat, “Junghee didn’t sink her dirty fangs in you after all, that’s good.”
Without warning he leaned down, his nose skimming over your neck as he breathed in, flooding himself with your scent. His grip tightened as you yelped and tried to jerk away from him in fear that this time you would surely die at the hands of a mythical creature, a monster in the flesh.
You squeezed your eyes shut as you felt his plump lips brush your throat, his cool breath fanning over the skin and leaving goosebumps in its wake. His actions were reminiscent of a wine connoisseur, the way they studied the body of the wine and the aroma. He was assessing you - attempting to decide if you would make a good meal, that you were certain of.
You jerked as you felt him bury his face further into your neck. You could feel the slight flutter of his eyelashes against your skin as a groan parted his lips.
“Well, don’t you smell delicious?” He crooned, his tongue swiping over his lips and just barely ghosting over your throat. “I think that we can come to an agreement, does that sound nice?”
“What,” You paused to clear your throat, “what did you have in mind?”
“I’m glad you asked,” He said with a wink after pulling back from you, “You see, I think we could mutually benefit from one another’s company. While breaking your pretty little neck would certainly be the easiest way out of this problem, I do find you quite amusing, pet.”
Your body grew stiff as your mind conjured up the image of his strong hands severing your vertebrate in one smooth pull, your body falling limp and lifeless on the club’s floor. Your greatest fear was death and Jin was death incarnate. He could very easily take your life if he so desired and he was making that very clear. He cared not whether you lived or died but only if your presence benefitted him in some manner. Your life was inconsequential.
“Very few people meet my standards but you are very lucky, I have a rather refined palette and it just so happens you meet said standards. So, I would like to propose a business arrangement. You will be my sole donor and keep those pretty lips sealed about everything you have witnessed tonight and in turn, you get to keep your life.”
“And if I don’t agree?” You dared to ask.
A sneer marred his perfect face, his fingers gripping your chin and forcing you to look at him in his blood-red eyes.
“Then your pathetic human life ends right here, right now.” He said, his hand slipping down your jaw to loosely wrap around your throat. He could feel your pulse steadily thumping against his hand causing his mouth to involuntarily pool with saliva, hunger twisting in his gut.
Your breath hitched, fear slicing down your spine like a violent chill. You knew you only had one choice, and that was to appease the monster that sat beside you because he was far less frightening than the unknown, than the certain embrace of death that waited at every corner.
When fear rules your life, you have no choice. There is only ever one option.
“I agree,” Your voice trembled as you swallowed uncomfortably under his grasp. “I’ll be your donor.”
“Splendid.” He said with a grin, his canines glinting under the light.
“Can I…can I please go home now?” You asked, clasping your trembling hands together to try and still their shaking.
“No, there are a few more fine details we have to iron out,” He said, his index finger lightly tapping your chin, “Firstly, I expect you to maintain a healthy lifestyle and that means no alcohol within a twenty-four hour period before we meet and certainly no smoking it’s a dirty and disgusting habit.”
You nodded slowly, trying your best to avoid looking into his piercing red gaze.
“Try your best to have a healthy diet as well, the junk you humans gorge yourselves on taints your flavor, it’s unbearably sweet.” He said with a wrinkle of his nose in disgust. “I will compensate you for your efforts and your donations, once I’ve deemed you satisfactory, of course,”
“I think that about covers it. And when I call upon you I expect your presence. Do we understand one another?” He asked with a tilt of his head.
Your throat was far too tight, your eyes burning with unshed tears as you weakly nodded in agreement.
“Very good,” He hummed before leaning back into the couch and soundly tapping the top of his thigh, “come, pet.”
You sat still, your body frozen in shock as you were unsure if you had heard him correctly.
“Well?” He raised his eyebrow expectantly.
“I…I don’t think that, um-”
“Are you going to keep babbling and test my patience, or are you going to be a good little pet and do as I say?” He interjected and immediately you remembered the phantom feeling of his hand on your throat, the light grip that screamed threat.
You awkwardly shuffled on your knees across the couch and hesitantly settled your legs on either side of him, hovering so that your weight did not rest on his lap. In response, he firmly gripped your hips and harshly pulled you down onto him, pressing you directly against him in a way that sent heat rushing beneath your skin despite the evident chill that emanated from his body.
You could see his fangs even clearer now. They had become longer than before, the sharpened points dragging along the flushed skin of his plump lower lip. You were terrified by the thought of them piercing your thin flesh. What if they punctured your jugular and you bled out to death? What if he had just been playing with his food this entire time, instilling a false hope of survival in you just to watch with murderous glee as you realized you were meant to die the entire time as he drained the life out of you?
And then what? The void of inevitable nothingness? The abyss of the afterlife? You were spiraling now, you could feel it in the way your chest constricted and your breaths came out in panicked, short huffs.
A soft, wet, stroke against your throat pulled you from your frightening thoughts. As your vision cleared you realized that he had settled back into the juncture of your neck and shoulder, his tongue gently and steadily lapping at your skin. Despite your embarrassment, you could feel your body slowly relaxing and melting against him. It felt like you were being shot up with a tranquilizer, your muscles going weak from his ministrations as the skin of your neck went numb.
And within seconds his fangs were sinking through your flesh, easy and smooth. You jolted in response, a cry of pain leaving you as your fingers curled into the silk of his shirt while your body subconsciously leaned away, trying to escape the sudden painful stimulus.
In response, you could feel Jin’s arms tighten around your back and harshly pull you flat against his chest with an animalistic growl, one that immediately paralyzed you with fear.
The vampire beneath you was enraptured, completely lost in the feeding frenzy as rivers of blood flowed freely past his plump lips and poured down his throat. Your scent had been seductive, but your taste? It was better than any wine, better than ambrosia and nectar, it was addictive. So addictive he was unsure if he would be able to stop but at the same time aware he could not kill you because the rest of his immortal existence would be utter hell if he were unable to get another hit.
Kim Seokjin had a refined palette and high standards and few people met his expectations. But you? You were complete and utter perfection. And he deserved perfection.
His grip was too hard, unrelenting, crushing you against him. You wouldn’t be surprised if he cracked your spine by accident. It was like he was afraid to release you, afraid that there was a chance you would be able to escape him, the apex predator.
But these thoughts were all uselessly whimpered in the back of your mind because the rest of your brain was completely flooded with euphoria. You had never felt so warm and tingly despite his cool hands in your entire life. It was almost like an out-of-body experience, the only thing keeping you grounded in existence was his tight hold. And there were other feelings as well, feelings you would have been ashamed of had your inhibitions not completely disappeared. Feelings that had your thighs clenching on either side of his waist, your heart beating pathetically fast, your pupils dilating, and your limp body helplessly rocking against him with his hands guiding and encouraging you.
This was completely out of character for you. You didn’t climb into random men's laps and writhe against them eagerly like you were in heat. That had never been who you were, but the position you were in now clearly said otherwise.
You were growing lightheaded, not only from arousal and euphoria but from blood loss as well. You weakly pushed at his chest, your innate desire to survive prevailing over the pleasure that had relaxed your muscles.
“Jin, please,” You whimpered, struggling to speak.
The vampire didn’t respond or relent, his arms still wrapped around you like a vice. In desperation you wound your arms around his neck, your fingers tangling into his hair and tugging at the roots. The pull certainly took him off guard, his fangs sliding free from your throat and his perfect lips parting to release a startled moan.
His eyes were half-lidded but his red irises still burned brightly under the dim lighting, a perfect match for the blood that stained his lips and chin. He said nothing at that moment and from what very little you knew about him you could conclude that it was not often that he was at a loss for words.
Warmth trickled down your neck, rivulets of blood still flowing freely now without him there to catch them and that seemed to snap him back to attention. He slowly leaned forward, maintaining eye contact with you until he was level with your throat once more, his tongue darting out to lick up the trails of blood before tracing over the puncture wounds he had left behind.
Your hold on his shoulders did nothing to dissuade him, in fact, he quite enjoyed your weak attempts to keep him at an arm's length. Humans were so fragile, so weak, and he enjoyed that.
“Relax,” He breathed, “We have a deal, remember? It would be a waste to drain you dry in one night.”
“And how do I know you don’t just like to play with your food?” You asked.
“You don’t. You’ll just have to take my word for it, pet.” He smirked, tapping your chin with his finger.
“You’re not going to kill me?”
“Let’s just say your sample was more than satisfactory, I have no reason to take back my word just yet.”
Yet. And yet, he was actually letting you go.
“I’ll see to it that you make it home safely,” He began. But before he could finish speaking you were eagerly sliding off of his lap.
His hands caught your waist easily, one holding you steady and the other firmly grasping your chin between his thumb and forefinger forcing you to look him in his eyes.
“Remember, I call, you answer. As long as you abide by my rules we won’t have a problem.”
You nodded quickly, his words barely registering in your brain as your body took control. You would agree to anything that would keep you alive.
“Don’t disappoint me.”
~~~~~~
Days had passed since that night at Blood Sugar, days where Jin had not tried to contact you, days that you spent isolated in your house - a wave of agoraphobia so strong that the thought of passing a threshold frightened you to the bone which was beyond ironic considering your situation. But those days also led to you trying to convince yourself it had all been a bad dream.
If the encounter at Blood Sugar had in fact been real, you had little to show for it. The skin of your throat was smooth and untouched despite the fangs that you were certain had torn through it like paper. The only parting gift you had was the urge to sleep for days, a splitting headache, and a touch of soreness around your ribs where you were sure his arms had once restrained you.
Pretending it hadn’t happened was easier on your mind. Your whole world had been turned upside down and the monsters you once thought to be the stuff of stories had been pulled from the shadows and abruptly thrust into the light. It was easier to pretend it was a dream. But you couldn’t shake those blood-red eyes from your memories nor the show of pure strength that had been demonstrated against Junghee - her once perfect face that was so easily disfigured by the elder vampire.
You were afraid of death and the realization that it actually lurked at every eerie corner and you had sat in its lap like a contented house cat was enough to fry the connections in your brain.
And you could only pretend for so long. You could only ignore reality for so long.
It had been three weeks since you had seen him when he finally confirmed his existence in the form of a simple text.
“Hungry, you know where to find me.”
And that made your blood run cold. It was time to finally face reality, you had actually made a deal with a vampire and now he was cashing in on your promise. It was donate or die.
And in an absolute panic, you made a terrible decision. You placed your phone face down and retreated beneath your blankets like a small child hiding from the boogeyman.
Your phone did not cease to remind you that you had made a bad decision. The messages started sporadically - spread out throughout the hour. But Jin’s impatience grew as did the texts and calls. The eerie silence of your bedroom filled with a continuous buzzing as your phone continued to vibrate until you couldn’t take it anymore and without looking at a single message you shut down your phone. But that only brought temporary relief.
You were begrudgingly pulled from the safety of your bed that day for an inspection your landlord had scheduled two days prior. There was no getting out of it and in your mind, it was a welcome distraction from the spiraling anxiety you felt when you thought about your powered-down phone.
You had no way of knowing that their presence would only worsen the problem that you had created.
You were generally a quiet person that kept to yourself around strangers, especially strangers that had a say in whether you continued living in your home or not. You practically stuck yourself to the walls as she inspected your home, and while your landlord was not necessarily a mean woman she wasn’t very chatty. You two got along in those regards.
You were able to breathe when she gave you an awkward, tight-lipped smile, waved, and closed the door behind her.
As soon as she was gone you rushed back into your bedroom and just barely pulled your curtains aside to peer out your window and watch her retreat. But when you did look out that window you felt your blood run cold. She was still there, standing on the walkway, and directly in front of her was him. It was twilight out, the sun still desperately trying to cling to a purple and ochre colored sky. It was safe for him to be out. He was giving her a charming smile, one that anyone would fall over at the sight of. You could see him laugh and then say a few words but you were too far away to make out what they were. And then to your utmost horror, she walked away and he made his way up the front steps.
You were frozen, your muscles tense, and refused to move. You held your breath as you listened. There was no way that he could get in, you hadn’t given him permission. But all of your hope washed out of you when you heard the front door’s knob turn and the soft click of it leaving the frame. There were a few light steps and then the door shut once more.
He was inside the house.
You felt absolutely helpless as all you could do was wait for him to find you. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, you were cornered.
It was only a matter of seconds before he did find you, a stern and angry expression clear on his face as he rounded the banister and the stairs and stood right outside the door frame of your room. His eyes were different now, they weren’t the vibrant red that you remembered. They were a deep burgundy now, almost black as they stared back at you with intensity. You couldn’t even make out the difference between his pupils and his irises. It was a bottomless, dark gaze.
“How did you get in?” You asked, the words rushing out of you to your own surprise.
One of his dark brows quirked, whether it was in surprise or irritation you did not know.
“Elaine let me in,” He said with a stomach-turning grin.
Your landlord. She technically owned the house, she could let him in even if you didn’t invite him.
“I thought I made myself clear when we spoke, did I not?” He asked rhetorically, “I call, you answer, I feed, you keep your life. What part of that did your little human brain not comprehend?”
“You called me?”
“Don’t play dumb with me.”
“My phone died-”
“Don’t make me repeat myself!” He snapped, his voice shockingly loud and incomposed.
You flinched back against the wall as he finally entered your room only to stop dead in his tracks not more than five feet away. His eyes widened, his nostrils flared, and his fangs descended on instinct.
The two of you stood there, both staring at each other and refusing to move, waiting for the other to act first.
Jin was the one to break the stalemate.
“You’re on your period.”
Your eyes widened in embarrassment, warmth radiating beneath your skin in response. He could smell it, that was the only explanation and that was a mortifying thought that had you pressing your thighs together, tight and closed.
He looked shaken, frazzled, and incredibly unlike himself. His rage was forgotten, his hunger controlling him. He was gripping the footboard of your bed, the skin of his knuckles stretched taut as he held onto it like he was keeping himself grounded.
“I want a taste,” He said, staring you down without a single blink.
It took you a moment to comprehend what he had just said, and as soon as you connected the dots you were anchoring yourself to the wall and vehemently shaking your head.
“No, no way!”
“Yes,”
“No! That’s messy and gross and I never agreed to do anything like that with you!
“I’m hungry,” He hissed, “And you expect me to just leave when you smell like fucking heaven?”
“Yes, because everything about this is crazy! I don’t know you, I never wanted to find you and now I’m stuck with you until you ultimately decide to kill me so I’m sorry that you’re hungry but it’s not even my problem in the first place!”
That was the one upside to being on your period, the influx of hormones allowed you to become confrontational.
“I’ll pay you double for a feed directly from the source,” He said with gritted teeth.
Jin was never one to bargain, usually he would leave a deal with far more than the other party. But this was something he refused to pass up. Vampires, very often, had little to no inhibitions especially when it came to sex. Sex was often a co-occurrence with feeding, and menstruation was the epitome of that. He didn’t expect a pathetic little human like you to understand. You were fettered by mortal concepts that had forced you to believe you were to be a social pariah during that time, that it was “gross,” as you had said. Little did you know you were considered a delicacy in his world, ripe for the taking. And he knew how delicious you were when he fed from the vein, his mouth watered at the thought of what it would be like now.
Your silence to his proposition only frustrated him even more.
“Do you know how many people would die to be in your position right now? I’ve had women beg to be on their knees for me and I’m offering to pay you to do the opposite.”
You were sure that he was telling the truth because he certainly was the most breathtaking man you had ever seen in your entire life. But what confused you was why he didn’t just throw you down and do as he pleased. He was bigger than you, stronger than you, and far faster than you. If he wanted it as badly as he claimed, why was he bargaining with you? You could only assume it was the lingering effects of the era he had lived in. While he was an asshole, perhaps he took no joy in forcing himself on a woman in that manner.
And then there was the money. Rent wasn’t cheap, that was for sure. And not many people could say that they were paid to be pleasured. It wasn’t a terrible offer, and the last thing you wanted to do was displease a vampire that could kill you and had threatened to do so before.
Shit.
“You wont hurt me?” You asked, your voice wavered.
“Quite the opposite,” He smirked. He knew that he had won.
A gasp of surprise parted your lips as he closed the distance between you, moving so fast that a gust of wind whipped up ruffling your hair and sending loose pages of paper tumbling from your desk. Your heart stuttered in fright, every minute you spent with him only served as a reminder of how dangerous he was. This arrangement you had with him was dangerous, you were toeing the line between life and death and that thought made your stomach turn in unease. He was a vampire, an apex predator, a creature that you had stopped believing in long ago, but also the undead embodiment of death. The very thing you feared the most. All it would take is one moment of frenzy, a lack of control and you would be left to bleed out in your sheets with no one to come and find your remains for weeks to pass.
You didn’t want to die, but you knew he wouldn’t let you live.
The touch of his cold fingers to your waist brought you back to him as he tugged you toward your bed, pressing you down onto the sheets before moving over you like an animal on the hunt. His eyes were pitch black, the veins beneath them prominent, and his fangs dangerously grazed his plump lips. He looked like a fallen angel, like Lucifer himself, the most beautiful outcast of them all.
An involuntary cry of fright left you as he moved impossibly fast once more, his face now level with the side of your head, the tip of his nose just barely brushing over your cheek as he chuckled. Even his breath was frigid.
“You’re nervous,” He hummed in delight, “Careful now, we wouldn’t want your heart to stop, would we?”
He could feel the violent, rapid thumps of your heart where his chest was pressed against yours. It had been a long time since he had had a human like this, oftentimes he found it too annoying. They were fragile creatures and having to restrain himself was rather inconvenient, but he preferred his partners to be responsive when he had his way with them, unlike some of his kind who couldn’t care either way. Was it still necrophilia if both parties were technically dead?
And while your heart was making itself known, you could feel nothing in response. His heart didn’t beat like yours, it had gone silent long ago and that thought only reminded you of just how wrong this entire thing was. He was dead, but you couldn’t wrap your mind around how he also seemed so very alive and while that scared you deeply, it also ignited a disturbing thought within you. But that thought was quickly halted when he noticed your lack of attention on him.
He hated that your attention wasn’t on him.
An annoyed growl rumbled in his throat as he moved back, quickly going down the length of your body and ripping your shorts down your legs, exposing you to the cold air.
“Jin wait-” It felt as if all the air was sucked out of your lungs as he ignored you, plunging his face directly in between your thighs.
He was unlike any of the partners you had had before. He did not take his time even though he evidently had plenty of it. He didn’t warm you up with gentle words, pleasing touches, or lingering kisses. Instead, he was absolutely ravenous. It was just like he said, he was hungry. But you, on the other hand, had not been prepared in the slightest for how sensitive you would be.
You could only whine in discomfort as you tried to clench your thighs closed, one hand coming down to push at his shoulder. Your actions were completely useless, no matter how much force you could use it was like pushing against a concrete wall - he was immovable.
You could feel him growl in annoyance which only sent a shock throughout your body, your hips twitching and your shoulder blades digging into the mattress. His fingers were harshly pressing against your thighs, forcing them open wider and hooking your legs over his shoulders so that he could get impossibly closer to you.
“Too - too much!” You barely managed to get the words out, your body jolting from sharp bursts of pleasure.
“Be a good pet and take it for me,” He crooned, parting from you for a mere moment to look up at you - his bright crimson eyes cutting through the darkness that had steadily filled the room. “I thought you said you would do anything to keep your life?”
You couldn’t explain the feeling that his words gave you, but the shame that lingered was recognizable. Shame that enduring pleasure to ensure your survival was an addictive cocktail of emotions.
You couldn’t even form a response in time before he returned back to his feeding, his soft lips and firm tongue caressing you in a way that made you realize he was actively trying to make you feel good instead of solely focusing on gorging himself on your blood. You had no way of knowing that that just made the feed all the more enjoyable, the rush of hormones in your body only adding to the flavor. It was a flavor he already knew he was addicted to and while he was reluctant to admit it to himself, it was a flavor he could not live without.
And with each feed there were more problems to come. While he knew his blood, saliva, and venom were incredibly intoxicating to your weakened human state - he underestimated the effect you would have on him. With all of the hormones his bite coaxed out of you there was one pesky one that affected him: oxytocin. It was a bonding hormone, one that fostered a relationship between feeder and donator which was why so many vampires rarely fed from the same human more than once typically preferring to drain the body dry and dump it anywhere to rot.
He was willingly making himself vulnerable to you all in order to get another fix, another hit of your blood. And the worst part was, he didn’t mind.
“Jin!” You cried.
He was disgusted with himself, disgusted by the way his body shuddered and was aflame with tingles at the mere moan of his name rolling off of your lips. It was nothing special, countless others had done it before you, but he couldn’t understand why it was you. Why were you special?
He could blame it on the damn hormone bond all he wanted, but this was only the second feed which meant, to his utmost horror, it was him. His interest in you, a human, was more than just superficial desire.
Oh, how far he had fallen.
He smelled your salty tears and he could even see the gleam of them as they rolled down the curves of your cheeks as your hips pitched forward, broken whimpers wracking your body that only served to drive him crazier. He could drown in you and it still wouldn’t be enough.
And as soon as all of the tension within you snapped he was digging his fangs into the meat of your thigh, fresh, hot blood rushing over his tongue and down his throat. The blend was intoxicating for not only him but for you as well - the bite secreting venom that doubled the effects of all of his efforts that lit your brain and body on fire. You could become addicted to him just as easily as he was to you because that feeling, that feeling was indescribable and would never be able to be replicated by anyone but him. Just as he was chasing you for his fix, you could easily see yourself doing the same.
When you came too, you were startled by the gentle touch of his tongue to the puncture wounds on your thigh. It soothed over the cuts rhythmically, urging the skin to sew itself back together again. And while he worked, he stared. Bright, crimson red eyes were trained on you. His gaze dark and dangerous. Your body that had once been limp and relaxed immediately tensed once more. The knowledge that a predator was nestled into your lap was enough to reignite fear in your chest. You feared that the slightest twitch or breath would signal for him to lunge again, but this time the outcome would not be so pleasurable for you.
But Jin was a man of his word. You didn’t die that night and your bank account was fed in due course.
This continued for the next six days. Whereas before it seemed like the vampire was able to abstain from feeding for as long as he wished, he had now become ensnared by a ravenous, bottomless hunger. And that was all the more frightening. But what was even more frightening was the way he began to change.
He was still rude, cold, and dominating. But he had become ever present. His closeness could be described as suffocating. The only solitude you could find was in the daylight, but the minute the sun began to set he was back and hungrier than before. And after the…feeding, he would linger. He would touch you more often, his words still snarky but lacking their usual bite. It was like he was becoming comfortable around you. He was still insufferable, but undeniably comfortable.
It was that comfortability that encouraged you to entertain that dark thought you had tried to smother before. Your ever present fear of death could easily be solved, the answer to your problem mere inches away from you. You understood the gravity of the situation, what it would mean to become something like him. But you couldn’t deny the truth that you could live with ending the lives of others if it meant you could sustain your own. You didn’t want to die, you couldn’t fathom dying, and you had an undead man at your disposal. If he was willing.
It was after your seventh session together that you decided to finally ask him. His cherry red lips were pressed against your throat, swallowing every last drop of blood that slid down your skin. Your neck stung and your body thrummed with ecstasy, your fingers cupping the back of his head on reflex - moving without your permission.
“Jin?” You asked.
He hummed in response, visibly enthralled by the feed but letting you know he was listening anyway.
“I want to be like you,” You whispered.
A slick pop echoed in the room, his fangs pulled from your neck and retracted into his mouth, disappearing from sight. His eyes narrowed, his dark brows drawing together in confusion and distaste.
“No,” He simply said, retreating to the foot of your bed.
“Why not?”
“Because you would be useless to me, that’s why. What good is a donor that’s dead?” He scoffed.
You couldn’t deny the ache you felt in your chest, the sting that “useless” struck against your heart.
“You’re…you’re going to grow tired of me eventually. I’ll get old, I won’t taste as good anymore. Then, I’ll be useless.”
“Oh, I plan to savor every last drop that you can offer. I won’t let you go to waste like that, you are mine after all.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean? You’ll just kill me before I go bad? Put me out of my misery before I can rot? I’m a fucking human being not a piece of meat!” You yelled, angrily standing up from your bed.
You expected him to become enraged, to become violent. But if anything he was deathly calm, still, and silent.
“Wouldn’t that be a kindness,” he stood from the bed, now towering over you, “To not have to grow older, to be in pain? To just stop here where you’re perfect, when you’re young and beautiful?” He said with a soft caress down your cheek.
“But you could give me what I want,” You pleaded, “You would never have to see me again, I could go far away and I wouldn’t be your problem anymore.”
A frown pulled at his lips, frustration falling over his features, “It’s not as simple as that. You would be bound to me, there are rules about these things.”
“Rules? Like laws, is there someone in charge of you?”
“Don’t bring that Twilight bullshit into this,” He hissed, running his hands through his hair in what appeared to be distress.
“Then I don’t understand, why can’t you do this for me? I’ve done everything you’ve asked! I’ve given you everything you wanted so that I could stay alive! Why can’t you understand that I don’t want to die!”
“Because you don’t understand what you’re asking for!” He snapped.
In that moment, he was brought back to that fateful day all those years ago. Yoongi had warned him, he had tried to stop him and he hadn’t listened. And now, he was being faced with a painful reminder of his naivety and arrogance when he stared back at you. Jin never regretted becoming a vampire. He never regretted his inability to grow old or the only way he was able to satiate his hunger. He enjoyed it. But if there was anything he didn’t enjoy, it was being under the control of someone else.
“We would be connected for the rest of eternity. Anything I ask of you, you have to do. You can’t deny me even if you tried. And even if you ran, you would eventually come back whether you wanted to or not. I would be your sire, your creator, you couldn’t hurt me no matter how badly you want to. We would be stuck together, do you understand?”
If there was anything he was afraid of, which he would never admit to, it would be having to rely on someone like that. It would be loving you, obsessively loving you like he felt the desire to creep over him. While he refused to admit it, all of those feeds had done their toll. He could feel the tugs of a weak bond forming between you - begging to be strengthened by a little of his own blood and a swift death. If you stayed human, he could save you from the fate he suffered through. And if he killed you, then no one else could have you. It was insane, but to him it was incredibly logical.
You had been quiet for quite some time, your face pensive before you finally spoke.
“That doesn’t sound all that different from our current arrangement.”
“Ugh, you’re insufferable!” He yelled, grabbing the closest thing to him and flinging it across the room in a show of strength and anger. So this was what Yoongi felt like.
“You’ve exhausted your usefulness to me,” He spat in rage, “Good luck defending yourself on your own.”
And just like that, he was gone. The only remainder of his presence was the broken chair that lay in pieces on the ground and the huge dent in the plaster from where it had hit.
You couldn’t stop the sudden wave of tears that poured down your face. That had been your only way to cheat death, and he wouldn’t give it to you after you had given him every piece of yourself that he had asked for.
The silence was loud, your sniffles and your pounding heart painfully apparent. But what was even more apparent, was the sense of paranoia steadily creeping over you.
What did you have to defend yourself from now that he was gone?
~~~~~~~
Jin was starving.
Even he was not so thick-headed that he couldn’t see what he was doing. He was throwing a temper tantrum.
He had left you for a month now in what was supposed to be a break that would teach you a lesson. You weren’t allowed to make demands from him, you weren’t the one in control. But if there was anything he had learned from his pathetic plan, it was that you were very much in control.
You had managed to burrow your way into his unwilling, stone cold heart. A feat that no one in his human and vampiric life had managed to do. The very thought itself made his stomach turn. He had never had to depend on anyone else, he never wanted commitment in that sense. Yet here he was yearning for you, a pathetic little hermit. His pathetic little hermit.
He let out an audible groan, collapsing back against one of the velvet couches in the club. The blue and red lights flashed over his face, his stomach rumbled in pain. He had thought it would only take a week for you to break, just a few days before you apologized and begged for him to come back. But he had greatly underestimated you.
It had been a month and he hadn’t fed. Everyone else paled in comparison, their blood sitting on his tongue like spoiled milk; he couldn’t even manage to swallow a drop. And that was completely his fault. This was why he was warned not to keep feeding from the same source. You were bonded now and he was suffering because of it.
He had never felt so backed into a corner before. And the fact that it was all because of a human was just salt in the wound. He thought that time would sever the bond but in reality, distance had just made it grow stronger.
Even now he was certain that he could smell your scent sifting through the hazy air, it’s tendrils beckoning him to come find you.
It was the prick of his fangs against his lip and the sudden pool of saliva flooding his mouth that made him realize it was anything but a fantasy. You were there. A wave of satisfaction rolled over him, you had broken first in a stalemate that you were unaware of. He had won. But any excitement he felt about his win was quickly thwarted when he was reminded of the present danger. You, who smelled so heavenly, had once more crawled into a nest of vampires.
He quickly lurched to his feet, cutting through the crowds of vampires and humans alike in order to find you. You were in the most dangerous spot in Briar Hills and he could not protect you. His abstinence had greatly weakened him, he could only hope that no one else would be aware of that. He was the eldest there and he was in charge, that should be enough to keep everyone else away from you.
Well, all except one.
You hadn’t even seen her coming, her or her “friends.” You had just barely managed to step foot inside the bunker before she was ripping you back outside, moving so quickly that your head was spinning and your neck burned with whiplash.
You moaned in pain, one hand cradling the back of your neck while the other dug into the damp earth in an attempt to ground yourself from the violent pounding that vibrated all throughout your head. At first you were utterly dumbstruck, confused as to what exactly happened. But the swift kick of a pointy shoe to your ribs rolled you onto your back and allowed you to be faced with four pairs of glowing red eyes.
The pain in your head was quickly overshadowed by the hot shooting pain in your ribs. Your spinning head could just barely register the loud crack that had sounded when you were kicked. What looked to be an effortless, swift strike from her was enough to break your ribs.
“Hello sweetheart,” A familiar, sickeningly sweet voice crooned.
It was her, that vampire from a month ago. The one that Jin had saved you from.
Cold shocks ran through your body as you panted, grabbing your side as you tried to scoot away.
“Ah, ah, ah,” She teased, grabbing you by your ankle and roughly pulling you back. Another sickening pop echoed through the night as a violent scream tore its way free from your throat.
“Now, I’m not letting you get away from me so easily this time. You really pissed me off, and now you’re going to give me what I want.”
You had no time to react and nowhere to run to. She and her friends descended on you like a pack of hungry vultures. They ripped at clothing and jostled you around like a toy they didn’t want to share. And all four of them dug into you. With Jin, there had been little to no pain. But this was the worst pain of your life. You could feel teeth digging into you, ruthlessly cutting through your flesh and ripping it apart. Hot, thick blood was pouring out of your wounds, drenching your skin and your clothes in an instant.
There was nothing you could do but scream, cry, and shake.
You were helpless and soon you were going to die. You had no doubt that they had every intention to bleed you dry. You felt like you were on the verge of passing out. Your greatest fear was suddenly becoming a reality and there was absolutely nothing that you could do about it. Death spared no one, especially you.
And for a moment you thought that death really had come for you because the pain was suddenly wrenched away.
You laid there, groaning in pain as you listened to what was happening. You could hear her low, sultry voice, the sounds of hits landing, and a deep, rumbling growl that shook you to your very core. It wasn’t death, but it was a close second. Jin had found you.
You forced yourself to open your eyes and look, you struggled to turn your head but when you did your heart dropped. Half of her group collapsed, in various states of injury. But Jin was the worst. He was barely managing to stand and he looked so weak. His cheeks were gaunt compared to the last time you had seen him, the veins beneath his eyes prominent and exposed. But worse of all, he was coated in his own blood. It stuck to him like an oil spill, pouring from wounds that were trying to heal themselves albeit very slowly. He wasn’t going to make it out of this; he was too hurt, too weak, too hungry, and outnumbered.
“I knew it,” Junghee giggled, her voice pitchy with murderous glee. “I could smell you all over her, you bonded with her!”
Jin said nothing. He wobbled, his chest rose and fell rapidly with angered breaths.
“Oh, how far you’ve fallen, Jin,” She sneered, “So high and mighty and look at you now. You’re no better than the rest of us - in fact you’re weaker than us! I’m so sick and tired of living under you and your rules, I think it’s time someone replaces that coven of yours. It’s time for a new jurisdiction.”
“I’ll give you one chance to get on your knees and beg for forgiveness,” He said with a deathly calm voice.
“I’m going to rip you apart and burn the pieces. And when I’m finished with you, I’m going to drain your little pet dry.” She said with a cocky grin.
Jin hummed in response, his head slightly tilting back as he thought. His eyes seemed to glow even more intensely in the dark, a ring of light shining around his irises as he spoke.
“That’s an interesting idea. Tear each other apart.”
You stared in shock as they immediately obeyed his command. It was mind-control, he could compel individuals to do his bidding. How many times had he used it on you and you had gone on unaware of it?
All four of them turned on one another, rushing at each other with abandon. It looked like they were marionettes, like someone else was controlling their limbs and forcing them to do as he commanded. You watched as the four of them attacked each other, clawing at their friends and prying their limbs from their bodies. The sounds were horrific. You could hear them screaming, crying, gurgling, and begging for it to end as they tortured one another. Black blood sprayed and stained their hands and faces as they ripped each other apart limb by limb.
Your stomach rolled at the sight, your wounds flashed hot with pain, and your ribs and ankle throbbed in sympathy as they violently mutilated each other until they couldn’t reach one another anymore - their limbs dismembered and useless.
You choked down the bile that threatened to escape your throat. They had tried to kill you, they were getting what they deserved. They were going to do the same to you and Jin.
Jin.
You caught sight of the vampire a few feet away from you. He had fallen to the ground after he had issued the command. His body was unnervingly still, his skin ashen and the sickliest pallor you had ever seen. He was dying, you were sure of it. That was something you had thought to be impossible for his kind but here he was proving you wrong. It was possible, but hard to do.
You felt a surge of adrenaline wash over you. You couldn’t let him die, he was your one chance to avoid that very same fate. You needed him just as much as he needed you. If you could help him then he would owe you. You could get the immortality that you were desperate for.
You cried out in pain as you rolled onto your side and crawled to him. Each inch you moved felt like you were being stabbed along the way. Your body was crying in protest but you were on a mission.
When you finally closed the distance between you, you could breathe a sigh of relief. He was hurt badly, but he was still “alive,” if not barely.
You grabbed him by his shoulders and slowly, painfully, dragged him into your lap. Your body threatened to crumble beneath his weight as you guided his head to the open wound on your neck. This was a risk, a really big risk. You were hurt badly and you had already lost so much blood, but you were sure that he would be able to stop.
“Come on, Jin,” You encouraged him, cupping the back of his head with your hand, “Come on drink, you need to drink.”
You felt a cool puff of breath on your neck, his nose slightly skimming over your pulse as the scent of blood pulled him out of unconsciousness. And as soon as he was awake, his predatory instincts took control. He lunged forward, wrapping you up in a vice like grip as he dug his fangs into the already open wound.
You hissed but held still, allowing him to get his fill. He was scarily inhuman at that moment. Jin had fed from you many times, but he had never been like this before. Silent, overbearing, and territorial.
Your eyes began to flutter, they were feeling incredibly heavy and it was becoming hard to keep them open. You had lost too much blood, you were still losing too much blood.
“Jin,” You croaked, “You need to stop.”
He ignored you and continued drinking, only digging his fangs in harder to force more blood from your throat.
“Jin please stop, please,” You cried, “You’re going to kill me!”
When you realized he wasn’t responding, that he was too enthralled by the feeding frenzy, you began to fight. You tugged at his hair, pushed at his shoulders, kicked at him with your good leg but it all was for nothing.
He let out an animalistic growl, squeezing you tighter before roughly shoving you to the ground and pinning your wrists above your head. He groaned in delight as your fighting ceased, as your blood flowed more easily into his waiting mouth.
You were fading fast, your visions steadily beginning to black out around the edges. He was going to kill you, and just like before there was nothing you could do about it. You were utterly helpless.
Your own desires would be your downfall. Just like Icarus, you had flown too close to the sun.
~~~~~~~
When Jin came to, he was confused.
He couldn’t remember anything after he had ordered Junghee and her coven to dismember one another. But when he became aware, he quickly figured out what had happened. Their corpses were sprawled about, their limbs still occasionally twitching.
And you were there, scarily still in his arms with the remnants of your blood on his lips.
He didn’t expect a wave of grief to wash over him. He hadn’t felt that even when his own family died or when he watched them mourn the loss of a son that never truly perished. But the sight of you, your broken body limp in his arms was enough to force a choked sob out of him. It was painful, it was complete and utter despair.
It was in that moment that he realized he did love you. In some horrific twist of fate, he loved you. He once thought that he would be able to kill you, then no one else could have you. But he didn’t anticipate the pain that it would cause him.
A soft, weak flutter halted all grief he felt. It was your heart. Your little human heart was still trying to beat. You could still be saved.
That was how he ended up here, with the only person he knew that could fix you.
“So, this is what you’ve been doing with all your free time.” Namjoon hummed, checking over your vitals.
Jin stayed quiet, nervously clenching and unclenching his fingers. At that moment, he understood what Yoongi went through. If he believed in karma, which he didn’t, he would have been able to appreciate it. This was what he deserved after what he put Yoongi and the fledgling through. But Jin was far more determined to keep you human than his “brother” ever was.
But it was undeniable that he could finally understand him. He finally knew what Yoongi was trying to protect him from all those years ago.
“Junghee really did a number on her. I’ve given her an awful lot of my blood to heal her wounds. It would just take one quick break, Jin. You said it yourself, this is what she wanted.” He mused.
“She’s my pet, nothing more. She’s useless to me as one of us, I want to make her last as long as I can.” He said with a warning glare.
“It’s useless, you know, lying to me. I could smell it on you the second you came through the door. You bonded with her, she’s yours now. Do with her what you will, but she will join us soon. Whether it’s you or me, well that’s entirely up to her. But I have a feeling she would let any of us do it at this point.”
“You wouldn’t-”
“Oh, but I would. Remember this, everything I do is for our family. You helped me with Yoongi, you understood then what I was trying to do. You can keep playing with her for a little longer, but she will join us. Don’t make me command you, Jin.”
Jin’s back stiffened, that familiar tug in his brain was there. That feeling that he needed to fulfill his creator’s wishes. And so, he bought himself some time.
“I don’t think it’s her you need to be worried about,” Jin said, that cocky edge to his voice back once more.
“Oh really?” Namjoon asked, leaning forward in interest.
“When was the last time you checked in on Hoseok?”
Namjoon’s brows furrowed in thought. Jin had got him, this was what he was good at - misdirection.
“Hoseok too?” He mumbled to himself. “Don’t you find it odd that this is all happening now? Yoongi and the fledgling, you and your pet, Taehyung and the little human he keeps in his studio, and now Hoseok? How interesting.”
He knew about Taehyung? But he hadn’t said anything about Jimin or Jungkook. He didn’t know everything. He had two more bargaining chips to buy himself more time.
“Watch over her, make sure she doesn’t hemorrhage. You’ve done a good thing, Jin. Thank you.” Namjoon said before briskly leaving the room - his office that now served as a hospital for you.
He wasn’t so sure that he had done a good thing. He was paying for what he had done to Yoongi now, what would come to him next now that he sold out Hoseok. And what about Jungkook and Jimin, what would happen when he revealed their secrets as well.
That was all he could think about as he waited for you to wake up. Namjoon’s blood was doing a thorough job. He was old and strong and because of that your body was mending itself incredibly quickly.
The only thing he hated was that you smelled like him. It was Namjoon’s blood in your body and because of that you were practically emanating his scent. Your normal heavenly essence was murky in the haze of his creator’s and it would take some time for it to dissipate. He was going to have to live with it for the time being. For now, he needed to figure out how he was going to protect you from the fledgling and from Hoseok. One was hungry and the other was certainly going to be pissed with him.
But if he could keep you like this for a little while longer it was worth it.
Your heart monitor was starting to accelerate, the beeping became loud and frequent. You were awake.
He slowly raised his head to look at you and he felt his stomach drop. You were giving him the thousand yard stare, your frail body tense on the mattress. You were utterly and completely frightened of him.
Your name left his lips in a hushed whisper as he stood, moving closer to your bedside. You shrieked and huddled into the furthest corner that you could.
“Stay away from me!” You yelled, crossing your arms over your chest in an attempt to block yourself off from him.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, his tone the softest it had ever been, “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Let me go, I want to leave. I don’t want to see you ever again, I want to go home!” You were rambling now, every frightened word running out of you with a gasp.
“You can’t leave, it’s too late now.” He said apologetically. He had never apologized before.
“I want to leave!” You screamed again, “You tried to kill me! You said you wouldn’t but you did! You lied, you’re a fucking liar!”
“I’m in control now, that’s never going to happen again I swear.”
“You’re a fucking liar!” You screamed again, your words trailing off with a broken sob.
He had felt grief when he thought he had killed you, but now he was experiencing heartbreak. His first, genuine heartbreak. He thought seeing your lifeless body was bad, but this, this was somehow worse.
He was suddenly overcome with the urge to comfort you, to hold you. And so he tried. The second he picked you up you began to writhe, screaming obscenities at him and clawing at his skin. You were trying to do anything you could to get away from him.
The last time he had held you like this, held you this close, he had tried to kill you. Your body and mind were completely in survival mode now and you needed to get away from him.
But he wouldn’t let you budge. He pulled you into his chest and wrapped you in a tight embrace, pinning your arms in between the two of you so that you couldn’t hurt yourself while trying to hurt him. All you could do was scream and cry and writhe but eventually your body went lax when you realized it was pointless. There was no escape.
Your brush with death had only made you more frightened of it. You had met that dark, empty void and the void had stared back at you. What some might have found to be peaceful, you had found to be terrifying. And, as a result, you were terrified of Jin. He had brought you to that void and your body was certain he would escort you back.
“I’m sorry,” He finally said, the words not burning him like he once thought they would for the longest time. “I’m sorry.”
You sniffled as you limply laid in his hold. You could feel the soft touch of his lips against your cheeks, collecting your tears as they brushed by in the lightest of kisses.
“Never again,” He mumbled, “I promise.”
You whimpered once more, the word liar echoing in your mind.
“I’ll give you what you want, I swear. You’ll never be that close to death again, I’ll keep you safe. Just give me time.”
You slightly perked in interest. What you want…what you want. He’ll give you what you want. You tilted your head up at the same time he went to kiss your forehead, only for him to gently kiss you instead. He froze for a moment, still as a statue as he processed what he had done before he did it again, and again, and again. It was like he had discovered a new insatiable hunger that he couldn’t settle no matter how many times he tried.
“I love you,” He admitted so softly against your lips that you thought you had imagined it.
He loved you. He was going to give you what you wanted. You had almost died. He was a liar. Your mind was reeling.
“No one else can have you, not even death can take you away from me; because you’re mine, remember?”
Warnings: 18+, Yandere, Obsession, Fear, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Touching, Symptoms of Panic/Anxiety, Stalking, Mentions of Murder, Depictions of Gore, Blood, Lot’s of Blood, Like Intense Amounts of it, Depictions of Car Accidents, Absent Mother, Anger Issues, Loss of a Family Member, Funerals
I do not condone the acts displayed in this story nor do I believe any members of BTS would actually engage in this type of behavior. This is simply written for entertainment purposes and should not be taken as a reflection of my own values, opinions, or morals.
Preview: His fingers were ice cold. Like the touch of death it seeped through your skin and into your bones chilling you to your very core. You jerked your arm away as you finally looked at him. It was undeniable that he was unfairly attractive but there was something uncanny about him. His skin was too perfect like polished marble, his lips even and full and pink like they were freshly bitten, a symmetrical and slim nose, and those eyes. They were dark and bottomless and you could swear they had rings of red within them. It was like staring into black holes that were slowly dragging you in with the force of a collapsed star.
A/N: THIS IS UNEDITED. It’s currently 2 in the morning and I desperately need to post this so that I feel accomplished lmao. So please do ignore any spelling errors I will manually edit this tomorrow when I am awake lol. Anyways I hope you enjoy the fic and as always I can’t wait to see you in my inbox and my comments. Ily 💜💜💜 (Status of fic: Edited)
When your phone rang at three in the morning, you instantly knew that something was wrong.
It was that gut feeling, that shutter in your chest, and the prick of goosebumps on your skin that told you you were going to have to digest some bad news.
You blinked groggily, your eyes struggling to wake up with the rest of your body. You rolled onto your side, your blanket sliding off your shoulder and pooling around your waist as you reached for your phone. Your fingers, numb from sleep, fumbled with the device before you finally gathered yourself and clicked accept.
“Hello,” You coughed twice to clear your throat, “Hello?”
You quickly realized that it was your mother from her voice but you couldn’t make out what she was saying. Her words were too frantic, too scattered, and disrupted with heavy sobs and even louder crying.
“Mom, calm down, what’s going on?” You attempted to ask her with a soothing tone, you were suddenly wide awake.
All she could do was sob harder at the sound of your voice. She was trying so hard to speak but no words were coming through.
“Mom?” You asked again, your voice rising in fright.
There was a sudden silence as the phone was passed to someone else, a new voice sounding through your speaker. It was another woman, her voice much calmer and more composed than your mother’s. You could hear her ask your name.
“Yes, I’m speaking.” You clarified.
“Alright, this is Sheriff Bailey from Briar Hills Police Department. I’m sorry to inform you that your sister is dead.” She said matter of factly.
Warnings: 18+, Yandere, Kidnapping, Obsession, Fear, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Touching, Symptoms of Panic/Anxiety, Stalking, Mentions of Murder, Depictions of Gore, Blood, Lot’s of Blood, Like Intense Amounts of it, Mentions of Painting with Blood, Tae Basically Draws Lude Fanart of the MC, Insecure MC, Mentions of Childhood Bullying, MC Deals with Symptoms of Body Dysmorphia, MC Has Incredibly Low Self Esteem
I do not condone the acts displayed in this story nor do I believe any members of BTS would actually engage in this type of behavior. This is simply written for entertainment purposes and should not be taken as a reflection of my own values, opinions, or morals.
Preview: “Then let me show you how persuasive I can be,” He breathed, resting his hands on the desk on either side of you.
He leaned in a bit closer to you, his eyelashes fluttering subtly as his gaze traveled over every inch of your face. It was almost as if he was just as mesmerized by you as you were of him. The only difference was the fact that your knees were trembling beneath your weight on the verge of collapsing, you were about to go boneless.
And he hadn’t even said a word.
A/N: It’s almost 2 in the morning and I am delirious from lack of sleep, that midnight motivation really had me in a chokehold. I’ll edit this tomorrow I just need to get it out so I can sleep tonight lol. As always, I hope you enjoy and I hope to see you in the comments and in my inbox 💜💜💜
Your lips were pressed together firmly as you exhaled from your nose.
Your fingers fiddled anxiously with the shiny pearlescent buttons of your coat, you were in one of those moods again. You didn’t like to put a name to the feeling, for as long as you could remember it was better leaving it as one of those things that were to be left unsaid. The only way you could describe it was a strange sense of claustrophobia in your own skin.
You thought that you had been doing better, it had been weeks since you last felt like this and you were so certain that you were on the road to recovery. But the feeling liked to creep up on you when you least expected it as well as at the worst times possible.
You wanted to be better, you really did, but that was part of the problem. Years of feeling like you could be better, like you were nothing, had dragged you down into this cyclone of wretched feelings. There were days in between where you felt “normal” but those days had so often been overpowered and thrown into the shadows by those horrible thoughts that never totally went away.
It was on days like these, cloudy, foggy, and wet with mist, that their words would echo in the back of your mind.
Warnings: 18+,Yandere, Vampire Jimin, Stalking, Obsession, Blood (Lots of it), Gore, Fear, Panic/Anxiety, Depictions of dead bodies, Murder, Isolation, Smut, Oral Sex, Kinda Fearplay
I do not condone the acts displayed in this story nor do I believe any members of BTS would actually engage in this type of behavior. This is simply written for entertainment purposes and should not be taken as a reflection of my own values, opinions, or morals.
Preview: He could tell just from the sight of you that you were inexperienced and uncomfortable. The way you pressed yourself against the bar and clung to your friend told him that more than enough. He liked the shy ones, not that he was exceptionally picky because really he wasn’t, especially when he had the knowledge that he could have anyone he wanted. But every now and then Jimin would get a bit of a competitive streak, with himself of course. And on the nights where he wasn’t as ravenous as he normally was, he had enough clarity to challenge himself.
A/N: Here’s the Jimin fic! I swear this was like Cut 2.0, it stressed me the fuck out to write and I don’t know if it’s good enough, but I still hope that you guys will like it. As per usual, this is not edited but I will find time tomorrow to get it done. I can’t wait to see you in my inbox and in the comments ily 💜💜💜
This wasn’t how you had imagined your day going in the slightest.
You had always been a creature of habit, the type of person that adored a structured day free of surprises. But today, today had far too many of them.
The first surprise was one you gave yourself, your boyfriend had often complained about your lack of spontaneity in your relationship. If the two of you wanted to do something, it had to be penciled in and scheduled lest you be riddled with anxiety. You weren’t the most social creature, and if you were going to have to do something, you would rather give yourself weeks or days to prepare in advance. So, you took the plunge for him and took a sick day from work. You were going to break your structured plans and try to do something he would like.
Spontaneity had been lacking in your relationship for a long time. But, you had convinced yourself that was what happened when you were with someone for as long as you were. You and Hyun-woo, your boyfriend, had met each other in your sophomore year of college and his junior year. And the two of you had dated ever since, going on six years.
Warnings: 18+,Yandere, Vampire Jimin, Stalking, Obsession, Blood (Lots of it), Gore, Fear, Panic/Anxiety, Depictions of dead bodies, Murder, Isolation, Smut, Oral Sex, Kinda Fearplay
I do not condone the acts displayed in this story nor do I believe any members of BTS would actually engage in this type of behavior. This is simply written for entertainment purposes and should not be taken as a reflection of my own values, opinions, or morals.
Preview: He could tell just from the sight of you that you were inexperienced and uncomfortable. The way you pressed yourself against the bar and clung to your friend told him that more than enough. He liked the shy ones, not that he was exceptionally picky because really he wasn’t, especially when he had the knowledge that he could have anyone he wanted. But every now and then Jimin would get a bit of a competitive streak, with himself of course. And on the nights where he wasn’t as ravenous as he normally was, he had enough clarity to challenge himself.
A/N: Here’s the Jimin fic! I swear this was like Cut 2.0, it stressed me the fuck out to write and I don’t know if it’s good enough, but I still hope that you guys will like it. As per usual, this is not edited but I will find time tomorrow to get it done. I can’t wait to see you in my inbox and in the comments ily 💜💜💜
This wasn’t how you had imagined your day going in the slightest.
You had always been a creature of habit, the type of person that adored a structured day free of surprises. But today, today had far too many of them.
The first surprise was one you gave yourself, your boyfriend had often complained about your lack of spontaneity in your relationship. If the two of you wanted to do something, it had to be penciled in and scheduled lest you be riddled with anxiety. You weren’t the most social creature, and if you were going to have to do something, you would rather give yourself weeks or days to prepare in advance. So, you took the plunge for him and took a sick day from work. You were going to break your structured plans and try to do something he would like.
Spontaneity had been lacking in your relationship for a long time. But, you had convinced yourself that was what happened when you were with someone for as long as you were. You and Hyun-woo, your boyfriend, had met each other in your sophomore year of college and his junior year. And the two of you had dated ever since, going on six years.
Warnings: 18+, (Soft-ish) Yandere, Vampire Yoongi, Stalking, Obsession, Blood (Lots of it), Gore, Fear, Panic/Anxiety, Depictions of dead bodies, Devious Intentions, Mourning, Self Harm, Murder, Isolation, Existentialism, Talks of Religion, Talks of Life and Death, Serious Illness
I do not condone the acts displayed in this story nor do I believe any members of BTS would actually engage in this type of behavior. This is simply written for entertainment purposes and should not be taken as a reflection of my own values, opinions, or morals.
Preview: Yoongi wouldn’t be surprised if he forgot what had happened in that alleyway, the monster usually remembered it all for him and locked it away in the darkest corners of his mind. But he did know there would be one thing he would remember after this, and that was that he was willing to kill for you. It didn’t matter who it was, if they tried to harm you or get in his way he would tear them down without a thought or a shadow of remorse.
A/N: Hehe, surprise everyone! That’s right, the next series takes place in the Predator Universe! I got so inspired (specifically by Yoongi) to turn this into a series. I already have ideas for Jimin and Tae as well. Now, I hope you enjoy and I can’t wait to see you in the comments and my inbox 💜💜💜
A life without meaning is as good as being dead.
In the darkness of his room, Yoongi laid with his arm thrown over his eyes and his other hand resting limply on his chest.
Beneath the frigid skin of his palm, there was nothing. In his chest, he held a black heart that no longer beat a rhythm that had once been familiar to him.
He felt like nothing.
Life had not been kind to Min Yoongi when it still held him in its clutches. As a young man in the 1600’s of Salem, he was damned.
He had done everything right, he had been the perfect church boy, god-fearing and worshipping all the same. He had attended services, prayed every day, and attempted to avoid the calls of sin. He had done everything perfectly, and still, it had not been enough.
Especially when he unknowingly consorted with the Devil.
Warnings: 18+, Yandere, Vampire Jungkook, Stalking, Obsession, Manipulation, Forced Relationships, Blood (Lots of it), Fear, Panic/Anxiety Attacks, Mind games, Tormenting the MC, Discussions of discovering dead bodies, Jungkook frightens the mc, Jungkook watches the mc sleep
I do not condone the acts displayed in this story nor do I believe any members of BTS would actually engage in this type of behavior. This is simply written for entertainment purposes and should not be taken as a reflection of my own values, opinions, or morals.
Preview: There was someone crouched down in between the trees and ferns. It wasn’t a stance that had suggested they had fallen or were looking for something, it resembled that of a predator patiently waiting for it’s innocent prey to come stumbling by. You could make out a few of its features, although it was mostly concealed by the greenery. Pale flesh stretched over it’s limbs, so light that it appeared like it hadn’t ever seen a ray of sunlight. There was a mop of unruly, dark curls poking out from the leaves, and worst of all, piercing red eyes that were staring back into your own. They resembled thick pools of blood, a deep crimson color that forced trembles throughout your once still form. You were certain you were staring into the eyes of a demon, there was no way that was a human hiding in there
A/N: Did anybody ask for a supernatural AU? The answer is no but I wrote it anyways and scared the shit out of myself. I hope you enjoy it if you read it, I finished this surprisingly quickly and it was really fun! My fingers are numb now though and I’m going to bed. Also, this is my first fic post Bouquet Series! Happy reading, I can’t wait for asks and to see you in the comments 😊💜
READ PART II - PREY
The scent of sulfur was thick in the air.
Your fingers fiddled with the string of your one untied shoelace as you gazed up into the sky from your spot seated on the covered porch. You gently leaned your face into your hand, cupping the full flesh as you rested your elbow on your bent knee, your other leg extended out in front of you as you rolled your ankle from side to side.
It was raining now, the soft tapping of the rain against the soil would have been enough of a melody to send you off to sleep had it not been for the sudden crack of lightning that shattered and broke off creating thin scars in the sky.
You loved the smell of rain, sweet yet earthy, it reminded you of home. You closed your eyes for a moment, listening to the rain and the soft rumble of thunder in the sky. You could hear the light creak of the old wooden porch swing mere feet away from you before another flash lit up the sky, this time far brighter than before spurring your eyes to snap open and trace each splinter of light.
You then began to count; 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 - another flash. The storm was about a mile away, this was a neat trick your grandfather had taught you years ago. You knew it wouldn’t be long before the light rain developed into an angry torrent and you would be forced back inside. The storms there weren’t very forgiving and it wouldn’t be surprising if the rain began to slant and drenched you completely through.
With a soft sigh you drew both your legs to your chest and settled your chin on top of your knees, determined to remain in your spot until you had to retreat into the warmth and safety of your house. You loved your house dearly, it had been your grandparents before they moved down south and was then passed onto your parents. The siding which was once a pure white was now faded and peeling away at the corners from years of weathering. The porch swing was creaky and wobbly, and the stairsteps squeaky and in need of a fix. But you still loved it.
You probably loved the backyard the most though, it was relatively large and melted into the edge of the forest behind it. The trees had been there far longer than the house and now towered over it. It was a little alcove away from everyone else, and at one point you had treasured that. But now with your parents gone, headed south to help take care of your grandmother who had just had her second heart surgery, it was far too quiet and incredibly lonely. There was something undeniably eerie about the house, now that it was empty like the life had left with your parents. But you knew you couldn’t be selfish, your grandparents needed help and you had school. Classes didn’t stop for just you.
You raised your hands from your legs, pressing them palms down against the porch beneath you. You swiped the grainy planks of wood mindlessly before you pushed off of the ground, the rain had finally arrived in heavy, thick, wet streams. That was your queue to retreat back into the empty, quiet house behind you.
drabble — hongjoong biting on your shoulder to muffle the moans slipping on his mouth because of how good you feel around him.
Hongjoong’s hips stuttered against yours, buried so deep you could feel every throb of him inside your tight heat. The room was thick with the sounds of skin on skin and your shared, ragged breathing, but he was losing control faster than he could hide it.
He started moving, hips rolling in that devastating rhythm he knew drove you crazy. Each stroke dragged against that sweet spot inside you, making your nails dig into his back. But the harder he fucked you, the louder he got. Soft grunts turned into broken moans, and every time you clenched around his cock, a filthy sound would slip from his throat.He tried to stay quiet. He really did.
But when you rolled your hips up to meet him, taking him even deeper, Hongjoong’s control snapped. A raw, desperate moan tore from his mouth—loud enough that it made his eyes widen in panic. Without thinking, he surged forward and sank his teeth into the soft curve of your shoulder to muffle it.
The sharp bite sent a jolt of heat straight to your core.
“Mmmph—!” The sound vibrated against your skin as he bit down harder, hips stuttering before slamming back into you with renewed force. He was panting now, hot breath and muffled groans spilling against your shoulder with every thrust. His teeth stayed locked on you, anchoring himself while he fucked you harder, deeper, chasing that mind-melting pleasure.
You could feel how close he was—his cock throbbing inside you, hips losing their rhythm. Every time he drove in, your walls fluttered around him, pulling another choked moan from his chest that he tried to smother against your flesh.
“Fuck, baby… you feel too good,” he growled into your shoulder, words slurred by the bite. “Gonna cum if you keep doing that—ahh—”
You deliberately clenched around him again, and Hongjoong’s teeth sank deeper. The pain mixed beautifully with pleasure as he pounded into you, skin slapping against skin, the wet sound of your bodies echoing in the room. His moans grew frantic, vibrating through your shoulder while his hips snapped relentlessly.
Suddenly his rhythm broke completely. He shoved himself as deep as he could go, grinding against you as he came hard—long, thick pulses of heat flooding inside you while a wrecked, muffled whine poured against your bitten skin. His teeth didn’t loosen even as his body shook, riding out every wave of his orgasm buried inside your tight heat.
Only when the last shudder left him did he finally release your shoulder, breathing hard. His tongue traced over the deep indentations he’d left, soothing the sting with lazy, apologetic licks and soft kisses.
He lifted his head just enough to look at you, eyes dark and hazy with satisfaction, lips shiny and swollen.
He stayed buried inside you even after, panting against the fresh bite, tongue soothing the sting as if apologizing… or promising to do it again.
series warnings: heavy bdsm dynamics, subspace, rules and punishments, kink exploration, eventual romance, heavy/extreme kinks in later chapters. the characters engage in consensual controlling behaviour under the agreement of a 24/7 bdsm dynamic. this story does not represent ateez in any way; i merely use them as muses for my own characters. specific warnings will be in each chapter.
chapter warnings: this is the petplay chapter, so expect everything that entails. puppy play, dehumanisation, slight anal play (use of a tail plug), crawling, degradation, eating out of a dog bowl, psychological play, barking, brief mention of the um… practicalities of anal play (just aiming for realism here). mentioned/threatened whipping.
words: 10.2k
You wake around the same time the next morning, the city still quiet, the traffic and the distant noise of the city just beginning to swell beyond your window.
Your clothes are on the desk, as always—a top and panties and a skirt that’s most likely short enough to expose you when you bend over. You go to the bathroom first, then pull them on, glancing at your phone that you’d left charging next to them on the desk. There’s nothing new, really; just a few posts Maya’s sent you on Instagram.
You’re not particularly interested in what’s on your phone right now, you realise as you scroll through them. Everything you’re interested in is already in the house.
You huff slightly, softly, just enough to feel the cold air brush across your lips. You’re not sure what to do. You don’t hear any of them outside your room; no footsteps in the hall, no voices from downstairs—just silence. A thin silence, unsure, like it doesn’t know how to sit or what to do with itself.
Maybe you’ll go downstairs. Yeah, you could do that. You’ll go downstairs, maybe get a drink, and watch some TV until they come down.
You wrap a blanket around your shoulder, one a thin, loose knit that’s practically see-through You’re not trying to hide yourself, really; it’s just cold air and instinct that has you tugging it over your chest.
San is there on the couch when you shuffle into the living room, already dressed, reading something on his phone and looking up when you walk in. Something in his expression seems to spark and soften at the same time.
“Morning, pretty,” he smiles. “Sleep well?”
“Yeah,” you answer. “Did you?”
“I slept great,” he says. He pauses, hesitating for a moment. For a second, maybe two, he just looks at you; silent, a little scrutinising, like there’s something he’s trying to gauge. Something he’s trying to understand. Then his face evens out, calms, like a mess of laundry now folded into neat piles, and his smile widens. “You know, though,” he continues, and his voice is lower than before. “I was bouncing off the walls a little bit.”
“The walls?” You giggle. The look on his face—something like seriousness wrapped in intention, like there’s something you’re missing that he’s waiting for you to understand—wipes the smile off your face. You swallow. Suddenly nothing seems funny. “Why?”
“The same reason I’m wondering why you’re on your feet.”
You blink. “What?”
He stands up, not suddenly nor aggressively, but just the movement makes you cower like he’s all but run at you. Maybe it’s the way his eyes have sharpened, or how his voice dipped as he spoke—the next small indicators, now impossible to ignore, that the game has begun.
Or maybe you’re just on edge, because you know it has.
“What did we tell you you’d be doing today?” He asks, voice level, even, but not quite light. “What did we tell you you’d be today?”
Oh. The memory of last night—of their hands, their words, their promises—hits you like something solid. Your reply comes soft, shaking, face heating up already. “A—a puppy, sir.”
“Then get down.”
It feels odd to be doing it so early, in here yet with only one of them. You don’t even feel fully awake yet—but San has given you an order. That’s what matters. You’re on your knees before the words have even settled in the air.
“Good,” San says. He takes a step towards you, then another, until he’s close enough to take your chin in his hand. “That’s a good puppy.”
You keep your eyes down, fixed on the floor, and it’s as hard as it’s ever been—San sounds, feels, so confident and dominant and in control that you want nothing more than to look up at him, to see him. See the way he stares you down, eyes narrowed, like you’re nothing and everything all at once.
And today—like you’re a pet. A puppy.
You’ve definitely thought about pet play before; fantasised, and you’d taken a few tentative steps in that direction with Maya. But even those steps were barely so—certainly nothing like this. This is already much, much deeper.
“You look troubled, pup,” San says gently. “Something on your mind? You can speak. Tell me what’s going on in that head.”
“Nothing sir,” you say. “There’s nothing on my mind.”
He hums like he doesn’t quite believe you. “Eyes up.”
His face, you find, is the same as his tone—gentle, calm, but stern and very much owner. He slots a thumb past your lips and lets it sit inside your mouth. “You shouldn’t be thinking about anything,” he tells you, voice firmer now. “Nothing except being good and following directions. That’s all puppies should care about. Is that what you were thinking about?”
“Kind of, sir.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Kind of?” He repeats.
You nod. “I was thinking… I was thinking that I like this.”
“Being a puppy?”
“Yes sir.”
“Well I suppose that’s good,” he smiles. “We want you to like it. I’d rather you weren’t thinking at all, but we’ll work on that. One day you’ll be able to switch your brain off on command.”
Your stomach swoops at the thought, the image, the fact that by now you have very little doubt that he’s telling the truth; your breath hitches, caught in your chest, and you see on his face him taking stock of each small response of your body to his words.
What you don’t do—pointedly so—is clench your thighs together. Because you’re not allowed to anymore. He notices, of course; he must see the way your thighs tense then start to move, like you’re about to press them together but stay stubbornly apart like you’re forcing yourself not to, and he makes a noise that sounds like satisfaction. “Good girl,” he praises. “There’s your control. You’re learning.”
You hear footsteps in the hall, getting closer, but you don’t dare take your eyes off of San. He doesn’t take his off of you, either. “Very good,” he says.
“I see we started early.”
Jongho. He sounds tired still, voice rough, but there’s a slight edge to it that betrays something else.
San chuckles and pulls his thumb halfway out of your mouth, far enough to smear your saliva over your bottom lip, tugging on it a little and seeming to enjoy the way your head moves with it without a choice. “I had to,” he says. “She came in looking like a lost puppy, poor little thing. She was practically begging someone to put her down.”
“And is she being good?”
“Wonderful,” San tells him. “Didn’t even hesitate when I told her to get down. I think we’re weeding that instinct out of her already. Starting to, at least.”
“Let’s hope so.”
Jongho emerges from behind you, coming to stand by San; he’s already dressed, too—comfy, casual, but still dressed. He frowns. His eyes narrow, honing in on your top half that’s still concealed by the blanket. “Is she covering herself?”
“Just a blanket,” San shrugs. “Harmless. You want it off her?”
“Is she cold?”
San looks at you expectantly. “Well, pup? Are you cold?”
“No sir,” you whisper.
“Off then,” Jongho says bluntly. You shrug the blanket off; it falls from around your shoulders, sliding down your back and landing on the floor around you. He tilts an eyebrow, expectant; warning. “Are you going to leave it there?” He asks, sharper now. “On the floor? You’re going to make a mess in our house?”
You falter, hesitating. He cuts you off before you can speak. “Pick it up,” he instructs, voice hardened at the edges. “You don’t make messes here.”
“Yes sir,” you mumble. You move to obey, reaching for it, but Jongho stops you before you can.
“Do dogs use their hands?” He asks.
You pause, turning to him, then shake your head. “No sir.”
“Then neither do you. Pick it up. Use your mouth.”
Your heart is pounding, heat blooming in your chest and neck as you lean down for it; you take the fabric between your teeth, biting down, then look back up at him like you’re silently asking for instruction. “You know what to do,” he says. “Dogs don’t walk, either, in case you’ve forgotten.”
You whine before you can help it; you half expect him to scold you for it, but he just breathes out a low laugh and nods towards the coffee table. “Go.”
So you go—you crawl, just as you’ve done before, under those same stern, watchful gazes, pulling the blanket between your teeth along the floor next to you, then pull it up onto the coffee table and drop it there.
“Good,” San says. “Turn around. Let’s have a look at you.”
They’re smiling now, you see when you obey, turning around on your hands and knees until you’re facing them; small, soft smiles that don’t quite reach their eyes. San clicks his fingers then points down to the floor in front of him. “Here. Come. I have something for you, my girl.”
You perk up, intrigued; if you really did have a tail you’re certain it would be wagging now. They watch, silent, smiling slightly, as you crawl towards them and settle on your knees with your back straight.
“Good posture,” Jongho murmurs.
“Good puppy,” San says. There’s another, newer quality to his voice now, and you know what it is. The same thing that, for you, is making everything seem fuzzy and warm and thrilling.
“Chin up,” San orders. He grasps it in his hand, held between his finger and his thumb, then tilts your head upwards a little more. “There’s my puppy,” he breathes. “Keep your head like this, sweetheart, don’t move it. Stay docile.”
He crouches down so he’s at your level and runs his finger lightly across your neck. Gentle, without pressure, from one side to the other, like he’s tracing the outline of where a collar would be.
Then he reaches into his pocket and actually does pull out a collar.
It’s white, leather, a few centimetres thick, with a small metal ring hanging from the front. You stare at it for a moment, unsure what to say—your face, though, seems to say everything. San’s lips twitch; a small, knowing smirk. “You like it?”
You nod. “Yes sir.”
“Good,” he says. “This is just a play collar, for when you’re a puppy and we need something to tug you around with. Once you’re officially ours you’ll get a real collar; something you can wear all the time. Something formal, a little more subtle so you can wear it out. But this is sweet too, isn’t it?”
“It is, sir. Can I wear it now?”
“Yes you can. Stay still, honey, I’ll get it on you.”
He fastens it around your neck, slotting two fingers between your skin and the leather while he tightens it. “You need room to breathe,” he tells you before you can ask. “If you wanna try breath play, that’s a conversation to have when you’re in your right mind. For now you’re breathing freely. How’s that feel, baby?”
“Feels good, sir.”
“Not too tight or too loose?”
“No sir.”
“Good girl. And how do you feel?”
You pause, still for a moment, trying to find the words—to know what they’d be if you could. It feels rather like they’re running away from you right now.
You feel… “Floaty,” you settle on. “And… and light.”
“There’s your subspace,” he smiles. “You love it there, don’t you?”
“Yes sir.”
“We love you there, too. So sweet and obedient. God, even looking at you like this it feels like you were meant to be a puppy. How’d you survive so long without an owner, baby? Without someone to look after you?”
Your face is burning, you feel it; flames twist in your gut and scorch you in just the way you need it. Your breathing stutters, catching in your throat. “Not— not easily, sir,” you whisper.
“I bet,” he hums. “Poor baby. It’s okay. We’re here now. We’re gonna do everything for you.”
You nod. “Thank you.”
“Okay,” Jongho says a moment later. “No more talking, That’s not puppy-like, is it, baby? You need to get used to being a pup, keeping quiet. Alright?”
You open your mouth to reply, purely instinctual, but stop yourself just in time. Jongho nods, satisfied. “That’s it.”
“Oh my.”
Seonghwa’s voice, soft but sudden, cutting through the silence unexpectedly, almost has you turning towards it. You stop yourself just in time, just as your head starts to move; San makes a noise of satisfaction that has something warm and comfortable swelling in your chest.
You feel Seonghwa’s presence behind you, approaching from the doorway; slow, relaxed footsteps, a soft sound against the floor. You want to look. You want to see him. Fuck, you want…
“I didn’t realise we’d have a puppy already,” he says. God, he’s right there, you feel it— “She’s a pretty one. Where’d you find her?”
He takes another step; then, finally, his hand comes to rest on your head, flat against your hair. It takes everything in you not to keen into his touch.
“She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?” Jongho says to him, but he’s still looking at you. “Seems like a show pup to me, all perfect and pretty. I hope she has the temperament to match.”
“She’s been very obedient so far,” San says. “But I think she needs more training. Her previous owners seem to have been a little hands off.”
“Well we can’t have that.” You hear the smile in Seonghwa’s voice; the laughter he’s barely holding back. Everything about this is over the top, is ridiculous—should be ridiculous, and yet it doesn’t feel ridiculous at all. It feels the opposite, actually—it feels right. Natural. Needed. You feel yourself sinking into it like quicksand you don’t want to free yourself from. “We’ll have to train her up, if her previous owners didn’t. A pretty thing like her deserves nothing less.”
His hand moves forwards, tracing the path of the collar on your neck then grabbing your chin. He doesn’t move you; he just holds it there. He pushes his thumb past your lips and lets it sit there, too.
You want to suck it, badly. Maybe chew on it. But you don’t.
“She’s trying so hard to be good right now,” San clicks his tongue. “Look at her. Poor little thing. Bet she wishes she could tell us how bad she needs it.”
“Shame puppies can’t talk,” Jongho says. “She’ll just have to bark and whine and whimper if she wants something, I guess.”
“You’re doing well,” Seonghwa says; you can tell just from the tone, even before the words sink in, that this is meant for you now. His voice has dipped some, quieter than before, lower; like a secret the two of you share. “You can suck, sweetheart.”
He pushes his thumb in further, down to the knuckle, and you suckle at it; tentatively, at first, then more keenly. It’s strangely relaxing; a little instinctual. He hums. “Eager. I like it.”
“Where’re the others?” Jongho asks. He hides it well, but you still hear the faint impatience in his voice. The excitement.
Seonghwa laughs. “Excited, huh? They’ll be along. For now, why don’t we get some breakfast?”
The way Jongho smiles makes you think it’s probably not pancakes waiting for you in the kitchen. Seonghwa pulls his hand from your lips then taps your jaw with two fingers. You manage not to whine at the loss in your mouth.
“Stay still,” Seonghwa murmurs. “Eyes down. Keep them there. No matter what we do.”
He’s pulled away completely now, no longer touching you; you don’t like it, really, you want him to touch you again, but what you want even more than that is to please him. To hear him call you a good puppy. Maybe you’ll even find out what their version of a treat will be.
So your eyes stay on the ground, firmly, almost stubbornly, as San steps forward then clips a leash to the ring on your collar.
Oh fuck. You’re not surprised, exactly, but shit. They genuinely have you on a fucking leash.
“Come on,” San says, then tugs at it just firmly enough to make you whimper. He heads towards the kitchen, Seonghwa and Jongho in tow, and you follow on all fours. The only sound is their footsteps, your hands and knees padding against the floor, and the sound of your heartbeat pounding between your ears.
They don’t point it out to you. They let you spot it on your own—the little pink bowl on the floor by the table.
It’s not meant for people. The word puppy in bold blue letters on the front only affirms it.
San nudes you forward with his foot where you’ve frozen mid-crawl. “Go on,” he croons. “Breakfast.”
It’s full, you realise as you approach it. It looks like—
“It’s cereal,” Seonghwa tells you. “We’re not giving you dog food.” There’s a layer of amusement in his voice.
“I’m sure we don’t have to tell you not to use your hands,” Jongho says.
No, you think. He doesn’t.
“If you do feel tempted, though,” San adds, “you should remember what happens to puppies who don’t behave. A rolled up newspaper should remind you of your role today. If it doesn’t, a few lashes of your leash against your thighs definitely will.”
You can’t help but wince at the thought, and he laughs. “Eat up. Good puppies obey the first time.”
You don’t think you’ve ever found the act of lowering your head down and taking a bite to be quite so daunting. It’s a little awkward like this, hard to hold yourself, but you manage.
They pay you no attention—none. They just… go about their morning. Sitting at the table. Talking in low voices you can’t quite make out. Then, when you finish, Jongho beckons you over with two fingers and a “here, girl.”
You crawl over to him—not far, but your bare shins on the cold tiles makes it feel a lot further—and settle on your knees. He scratches the back of your head, between your ears, and hums.
“Good girl,” he grunts. “I’m gonna finish my breakfast. Why don’t you curl up at my feet til I’m done, hm?”
He pushes you down, gently, a hand on the back of your neck nudging you towards the floor. “Down you go,” he murmurs.
Time, you realise, passes strangely at Jongho’s feet. You’re not sure how much elapses like that—curled up, your head resting on his slippers, cold tile pressed against your bare skin, eyes half closed. But it’s peaceful. You’re not too cold, either, despite your near nudity; maybe they’ve turned the heating up a little bit, or maybe it’s the fact that you’re already feeling, well, hot.
It might well be both.
Every now and then Jongho reaches down to pat your hair, or nudges you gently with his foot, like a little silent assurance that you aren’t forgotten. It’s nice—knowing that even when you’re being ignored, they’re still paying attention.
You get so comfy like that, so far away in your own head, that you don’t realise they’re done until you’re being pulled back up onto your knees by the leash.
“All fours,” he orders, and you obey without thinking. “Good.”
He tugs at the leash again, already walking away and you pad through to the living room by his side, Seonghwa and San following closely behind.
Your face heats up a little, being so exposed, feeling their eyes on you, but you hardly register it. All you register—all you have the capacity to register like this—are the individual steps you’re taking and your desperation to do a good job of it.
Wooyoung arrives in the living room just as you do, shuffling in from upstairs. Your head is bowed still, eyes cast downwards like a good puppy; you dare to raise them for a moment, just a moment, but it’s long enough to catch his reaction; he pauses briefly, eyes widening for a moment, lips parting in surprise then curling into something more intentional. Something sly.
You force your eyes back down as soon as he meets them. For a moment you worry that’s not enough—that you shouldn’t have dared to raise them in the first place, even subtly—but no one moves to correct you on it.
Perhaps you get a little leeway like this. You dare to hope so.
“Well, well,” Wooyoung says. “I wasn’t expecting the puppy this early.”
“She was desperate for it,” San says mildly. He nudges you with his foot, a soft kick to the back of your thigh. “Sit, pup.”
You obey easily, settling on your knees, staring resolutely at Wooyoung’s feet, snug inside dark slippers partially concealed by the hems of his black pyjama pants. You want to look at him, of course, see the approval you hope you’d find on his face, but you know better. You’ve chanced it enough already.
He rests his hand atop your head, ruffling your hair gently; this time you can’t help but keen into his touch. He laughs. “So cute,” he coos. “Little pup can’t help herself, huh? Needs to be touched. Eyes up.”
He looks soft. That’s your first, immediate thought; hair unstyled, a little messy, face bare, eyes gentle if still holding a little of the sharpness they always seem to with you.
“You’re a little lax today,” he hums, but he doesn’t sound scolding—just observational. “Looking up when you shouldn’t be. Chasing my touch, but that’s okay. Puppies get more leeway than regular subs, ‘cause they’re cute and they don’t know how to talk back. You go deeper into your subspace as a puppy, so you can’t think as clearly, can’t catch yourself like you usually would. You get the leniency to reflect that.”
He’s stroking you as he talks, soft, circular motions, just enough pressure to feel grounding; it makes it hard to digest his words as he speaks, but you manage to when you concentrate. He smiles—a kind, smug, knowing smile like he’s reading your mind exactly.
“You’re a good girl,” he murmurs. “Pretty. We’ll show you how to be a good puppy, too. Come.”
You follow him to the couch; the leash is gone, you realise, unclipped some time after they’d tugged you into the kitchen, but you must have missed it in the haze of your headspace. Still, you crawl obediently by Wooyoung’s feet as if you were still attached to it, until he sits himself down on the couch and points at the floor between his parted legs. “You can kneel here,” he says. “No pets on the furniture.”
The other three are already seated, following you with their eyes; San reaches across Wooyoung’s lap to ruffle your hair. “Good puppy,” he smiles, eyes in crescents. “You just sit there.”
Wooyoung’s legs are pressing against you, not tight, no pressure, just holding you where you are and keeping you straight. You could lean against him if you get tired, you think, without breaking position. You don’t want to break position. So that’s good.
Wooyoung runs a long finger over your head, following the parting of your hair, and hums. “Didn’t we get her some ears?” He asks. “Poor little pup doesn’t have any.”
“We did,” Jongho replies. He looks up from his phone, brows furrowing a little, then looks back down again. “We got her everything she needs.”
“Well, she needs ears,” Wooyoung says. “What kind of puppy doesn’t have ears? Or even a tail? Was it docked off at the breeder or something?”
San snorts. “As if we’d let them do that to her.”
“The stuff is in Seonghwa’s room,” Jongho adds.
Wooyoung hums. “Well, go and get it.”
“You go and get it.”
Wooyoung reaches around you to grab your chin, fingers digging into your cheeks, and yanks your head around to face Jongho. You squeak, half in surprise and half in pain; they ignore you. “Can’t you see I’m busy?” Wooyoung snaps. “I have a puppy to train. You go and get it.”
“I’ll go,” Seonghwa says. “You two, stop acting like children. We’ve our own little girl now.”
He leaves before the words can really settle, but your reaction is instant, instinctive. A sharp intake of breath, catching in your chest; a shudder that makes your whole body quake.
Jongho laughs lowly, knowingly. Wooyoung, his grip on your face released now, tugs on your hair hard enough to make your eyes water.
“Oh, you liked that, huh?” San’s smile has stretched into a grin now, all teeth. “She wants to be our little girl, doesn’t she?”
“Seems that way,” Jongho says. “She’d be a cute one, wouldn’t she?”
“She would,” Wooyoung hums. “All tiny and bratty and clingy. Suits her.”
“Maybe we’ll try it some time,” San says.
You’re only half following; your eyes are fixed on the empty doorway Seonghwa left through, the small expanse of hallway you can see through the opening. For a moment you heard his footsteps as he retreated, getting quieter and further away until they were gone too; you’re frowning, lips pushed out into a pout, you realise when San laughs, nudging your thigh with his foot. “Hwa will be back soon, puppy. Poor thing, you didn’t want him to leave, huh?”
You shake your head; just as you do, as if summoned by magic, Seonghwa appears again, and you straighten up instinctively, lifting your head, back arching some like you’re trying to show him how poised and proper and good you can be. He smiles, coming to stand in front of you and patting your head. “Here we go,” he says.
He’s holding a couple of things. First, a pair of floppy white ears, attached to a headband that he crouches down to clip into place in your hair. “Don’t want you losing ‘em,” he smiles.
The other is a pair of what looks like mittens, in the same colour as the ears. “Paw,” Seonghwa says. It takes you a moment to realise what he means; you hold out your hands, one at a time, and watch silently as he fastens the mittens around your hands and ties them at the wrists. “Puppies don’t use their hands,” he tells you. “This way you won’t have to remember not to.”
The last thing in his hands is a box. It’s small-ish, nondescript, and you can’t tell what’s in it; you look up at Seonghwa with pleading eyes, hoping it’ll sway him into telling you, but he just laughs. “That’s not gonna work today I’m afraid,” he says. “This is for later, if you’re good and if you want it. We’ve already given you, what, three gifts today? If I give you this now you’re gonna end up spoiled.”
“She’s gonna end up spoiled anyways, just look at her,” Wooyoung says. “The sweetest little puppy. I already want to give her whatever she wants.”
“It’s hard to resist,” San says. He’s standing now, next to Seonghwa, eyes raking over your bare, kneeling form, taking in the sight of you. He looks pleased. “Jongho, bring her bed over here.”
The words take a moment to settle; from the corner of your eye you watch as Jongho rises, walking across the room and picking up— oh. Of course.
That’s why they’d been so insistent that the thing you’d been lying on last night wasn’t a dog bed—because they were about to give you something that actually was.
Jongho puts it down in front of the couch, near to where you’d been kneeling. It’s a dark brown, soft looking, big enough to hold you if you curl up. Seonghwa nudges your attention back towards him with a hand on your chin. “Okay,” he says softly. “We’ve let you be curious for a bit. Let you get a good look at what’s going on. Now you listen. Eyes down.”
Your gaze falls, just as instructed; Seonghwa makes a noise of satisfaction that sits warm in your belly. “Good,” he says. “You remember. There’ll be no more wandering eyes today. We’ll keep you on track. Show me your panties.” He nudges your knees, pressed together, with his foot, humming when you realise what he wants you to do and part your legs accordingly. He crouches down for a better view of them, the black cotton and lace snug against your cunt. His hand wraps around your thigh and nudges your leg open a little bit further.
It doesn’t improve his view, already unimpeded; you think he just wanted to feel your body obeying him.
“Cute,” he smiles. “Are you wet? Nod or shake your head.”
Tentatively, you nod, though you’re all but certain. There’s no way you couldn’t be wet now, right?
“I’d like to check myself. Nod or shake your head.”
You nod again. Seonghwa exhales. His hand moves up your thigh, then two fingers press against your clothed cunt. You inhale, a sharp, sudden breath, and bite down a whimper.
Seonghwa’s touch feels like static, reaching you in every corner of your body; finds you in the smallest, darkest corners and crevices. You can tell he knows it. He presses down a little harder, the corners of his lips quirking in amusement, then pulls away, standing back up again. He lifts the two fingers that were pressed against your cunt and shows them to San.
“Look at that,” Seonghwa says. “Sheen. All the way through her panties. Leaking like a little faucet.”
“Good call having her wear panties, then,” San laughs. “She’d be dripping all over our floors.”
“You like it this much?” Wooyoung asks. His voice comes from behind you, landing on the back of your neck like a cold breath. “Being a pet. You’ve been waiting for it, haven’t you?”
Not consciously, you think. But you’re taken aback by how natural this feels. You make to respond, mouth opening; you catch yourself just in time, and a soft, throaty whine slips out from where you’d held the words back. Wooyoung coos.
“Eyes up.” Seonghwa’s hand is on your chin now, gripping it between two fingers, forcing your attention onto him where it had started to drift away. “Good puppy. Now. I’m going to give you some instructions, and you’re going to listen very, very carefully. Yeah?”
You nod, straightening up a little; Seonghwa smiles. “Good,” he says. “You’re going to curl up in your little dog bed here. You won’t speak, unless it’s to call a safeword. You’re going to be a good puppy. You won’t bother us. You’ll wait for us to put you to use, and you’ll be grateful for what you get. Go on now. Crawl.”
He smacks your ass as you start to obey, on the patch of skin where your skirt’s ridden up; you don’t react, determined to show them you can control yourself and focused on your mission of getting to the bed.
It’s soft, more padded than you thought it would be. You take a second to get yourself comfortable, finding a position that works and allows the bed to hold you in your entirety, then let your head rest on the raised side. When you look up, you can see Wooyoung and San, but they’re not looking at you. No one is looking at you.
You sigh softly, turning your head back to where it was lying comfortable before, facing outwards; you yawn, humming slightly, and without really thinking, you push two fingers past your lips and into your mouth.
You’re not even conscious of it until someone laughs.
“Is that her version of a chew toy?” You’re not sure where Hongjoong’s voice is coming from, and by now you’re too comfy to lift your head to look, but you hear the slight sleepiness, the soft amusement in his tone. “Her own fingers?”
Seonghwa is in front of you a second later, crouching down by your bed and yanking your fingers out of your mouth. He smacks your cheek, not too hard but certainly not gentle, clicking his tongue. “Bad dog,” he says. “You don’t decide what goes in your mouth. We do. Understand?”
You nod. Seonghwa smiles gently. “Good girl.”
He reaches to pat your head, ruffling your hair slightly, and then he’s gone.
You hear them telling; at some point, the voices of the others come into the mix, but you don’t fully digest what they’re saying. It’s not about you, though, you know that; while Yeosang gives a short, fond laugh when he walks in and sees you there before turning the conversation to something else, Yunho and Mingi say nothing at all. From this angle, you can’t be certain they even looked at you.
It’s surprisingly easy to just lie there, doing nothing, even with your subspace making you so needy for them; the same subspace that makes you hot and desperate, like this, is making you calm. Floaty. Fuzzy. You’re happy just lying curled up in the warmth of your little bed and think of nothing but obeying them.
You do wonder what their intention here is, though. You know the purpose, of course, to show you what it’s like to be a puppy, but you’re not certain why. Everything they do with you seems to have a reason—that first day, when they took you apart, it was to set the tone and the expectations for this relationship; the second day, when you were wrapped up in rope and spanked into total and complete submission, it was to teach you to surrender. To show you the freedom of losing control. Yesterday, when they had you strung out and denied all day, it was to teach you control itself. To teach you to obey.
You’re not sure what it is today.
They turn on the TV, a variety show none of them seem to be watching, but with nothing else to do you start to follow along. They’re speaking quickly, the hosts, a little faster than you’re used to or comfortable with in your second language, but it’s not too hard to keep up.
They’re playing a game; the group, rookies you haven’t heard of, are split into two and playing some odd sort of playground game. It’s neck and neck. The tiebreaker round is next.
Just as it’s about to start, the channel changes. Your head lifts off of the bed, only slightly, and a confused sound escapes your throat before you can help it.
A hand fists into your hair and pulls you upwards, far enough that you’re on your knees and staring right into San’s face.
He doesn’t look annoyed. He looks amused. “Were you watching that?” He asks.
You keep your mouth shut. The corner of his lips quirks on one side. “Poor thing,” he says. “You haven’t quite learned yet, have you? Puppies don’t know how to think. That’s why they need their owners to do it for them. But I think you were thinking, weren’t you, pup?”
Your gaze drops, cheeks flushing pink, a small measure of shame breaking through the haze. San laughs. “Don’t worry, baby,” he coos, “I know it’s hard. You’ve spent so long trying to be a person, haven’t you? It must be hard to turn it off. We’ll help you.”
He lets go of your hair and you fall back down, not expecting to suddenly be unsupported; you’re kneeling with your ass against your shins now, staring up at San with an empty expression.
Help you. What does that mean?
“We need to dumb her down a little,” San says. “A bone, how about that?”
“Do we have a bone?” Mingi asks.
“I think we do,” Seonghwa says. “More of a chew toy. We never got around to using it, when we had— yeah, I know where it is.”
“And the other thing?” Wooyoung asks.
“Later,” Seonghwa says. “She hasn’t earned it.”
You wonder what it is you haven’t earned yet, but you don’t have much time to dwell on it now, because Seonghwa is walking out of the room to go and get you a bone, a chew toy, and the thought fills you with excitement and curiosity. You wonder if it really will make you go down; make the thoughts and the coherence and all the human stuff happening in your head just turn off. If the act itself doesn’t, the praise you hope they’ll give you for chewing on it so nicely surely will.
Seonghwa returns with it in hand, still wrapped up in plastic; he pulls it out, discarding the wrapping on the table, then walks over to you. “Kneel,” he says. “Eyes up. Open your mouth.”
Your lips part obediently; Seonghwa shakes his head. “Wider.”
Once it’s wide enough, so wide that it’s starting to hurt your jaw, he slides the toy in and rests it on your bottom row of teeth. “Bite down,” he says. “Carefully, I don’t want your slobber on me. If your mouth touches my hand I’ll beat you.”
You close your mouth slowly, carefully; when you’re biting down hard enough he pulls his hand away, ruffling your hair a little. “Good girl,” he smiles. “Lie back down. We have some things to talk about today—no, not with you, don’t worry—so you’re going to lie there and be good while we do it. Just chew on your toy and entertain yourself.”
You sigh, curling up in your bed again, this time with the toy between your teeth. You start to bite down on it, hesitant, still getting used to the feel of it in your mouth and— oh. It squeaks.
It’s a quiet sound the first time you hear it, your bite weak enough to only just make it go off; you try again, biting down a little harder, and it comes louder now. Oh, that’s fun. You bite down faster this time, two bites in quick succession, and the squeaks are faster and shorter in tandem. You smile around the toy, biting down again; it’s wet now, drool beginning to soak into the plastic and drip down onto your bed, but you hardly notice. You’re having fun. Someone reaches down to scratch your head, gentle, and you keen into the touch a little bit. You don’t know how long they stay like that for, and it doesn’t even dawn on you to look up to see who it is. You’re focused on your toy. On the squeaks. On the oddly soothing feeling of soft plastic between your teeth.
You hear them speaking; hear their voices, low and serious, talking about work from the few words you care to make out—practice, stage, choreography. You hold the toy between your two mitten-clad hands, keeping it steady as you bite down harder. You wonder if the plastic would rip, if you did it hard enough. You wonder how tough it is—would it still squeak if it was ripped open? Maybe it would squeak even louder, actually, if it didn’t have the plastic muffling it.
That’s something to do.
You bite down as hard as you can, dragging your teeth across the plastic, trying to tear a hole somewhere. You manage to make one near the middle, where the plastic is thinner, and the squeak is louder, just like you’d thought.
“What are you doing?” You pause, looking up; Hongjoong is standing over you, peering down with an eyebrow raised. “Get up,” he says. “On your knees.”
You pull yourself up into position, staring up at him with the toy still held between your teeth. Hongjoong holds his hand out in front of your face. “Drop it.”
You do; it lands in his hand and he lifts it, moving it so the end is held between two fingers. “Covered in slobber,” he says. “Embarrassing. Is that a hole you’ve made in it?”
“A hole?” Yeosang appears suddenly by Hongjoong’s side, a slight smile catching on his lips. “She made a hole in it?”
“Right here,” Hongjoong says, pointing to it. “I think that was on purpose, don’t you? I don’t think a little puppy could do that by accident.”
“Definitely not,” Yeosang agrees. “I think the dog—” He pauses for a second, gaze flickering down towards you then back up, “—has some lessons to learn about respect.”
“She’s just a pup,” Wooyoung says from behind you. “It’s normal for them to break things. You were just playing, weren’t you honey?” He leans down, nuzzling his face into your hair and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.
“She still needs to learn,” Hongjoong says, voice firm. “Look at me, dog. Eyes up.”
He doesn’t look angry, of course; just stern. His voice is quiet and firm and final.
“You do not break things. You do not tear holes in things. When we’re nice enough to give you something, you treat it with respect. Do you understand me?”
You nod. He doesn’t look impressed. “No,” he says, “we let you be a quiet little lap dog because we thought you could behave like one. But if you want to chew holes in things, you can act like the untrained stray you seem to think you are. So now, if we ask you a question, you’re going to bark. Understood?”
Jesus Christ. Your breath hitches, catching in your throat; Hongjoong is staring at you expectantly, waiting for you to respond, and you force out a quiet little yip that might be the most pathetic sound you’ve ever made.
Hongjoong looks delighted.
“Good dog,” he grins. “You’ve lost the privilege to play with toys, I’m afraid, so you’re going to come and sit with me. Any more misbehaviour and you’ll be whipped, understood?”
You bark again, a little louder this time; Hongjoong clicks his fingers, pointing to the floor next to him. “Come, girl.”
You crawl by his side as he returns to his seat on the other couch, next to Jongho; you feel Yeosang following behind you, hear his quiet footsteps against the floor, and when you settle kneeling by Hongjoong’s feet Yeosang sits down on the other side. Hongjoong puts the toy away somewhere out of your sight, then parts his legs. “Kneel in between them,” he says, pointing to the floor. “You’re going to learn to be respectful of your things. So instead of a chew toy, you’re going to keep my fingers in your mouth; maybe that’ll make you more considerate. I understand puppies can’t think as clearly as humans, but you knew better. You made a conscious choice to destroy that toy, so now you’re going to learn not to.”
He pushes two fingers into your mouth once you’re in position, pushing right to the back of your throat; you gag around them, but it’s more out of surprise at the intrusion than an actual inability to breathe, and when he pulls them out far enough to sit comfortably on your tongue you settle down. He pushes the side of your head gently with his hand, guiding it to rest against his thigh. “Good puppy,” he coos. “Suck on my fingers, sweetheart. We still have a few more things to discuss.”
His other hand is a firm presence on the back of your neck as the conversation starts up again, keeping you still, the feeling of his fingers pressing into your skin pushing you deeper into the haze. His grip is so firm, so assured; his control of you, of your body, so palpable you feel like you could reach out and touch it.
You can’t believe how easy it is with them. How little it takes to put you into subspace; to push you further into it and keep you there. How they can do it with barely more than a glance.
You float there for a while, content, until someone speaks.
“Are you enjoying this?”
You look up, blinking, meeting Hongjoong’s blank gaze. Um.
“I think you are,” he says. Let’s see how wet you are.”
He lays you flat over his lap, your ass in the air, like Wooyoung had done yesterday with your legs spread and your toes grazing against the floor. He runs two fingers up your inner thigh, slowly, steadily, easing closer and closer to your cunt. His touch is feather-light, a tickle that makes it hard to stay still and quiet.
“Such a good dog,” he murmurs. “I can see how hard you’re trying to stay still. Sensitive, hm?”
Finally he reaches your cunt; his fingers push through your folds, grazing across your hole and your clit, gathering your wetness in his hand. He hums. “Soaking,” he says. “Wet cunt on a wet dog. She just has no shame at all.”
“She can’t help it.” Another hand, a little larger, fingers thicker and rougher, settles on the back of your thigh, pressing slightly into the skin. Jongho. “She’s gone all the way down now, I think. Exactly how we wanted her.”
“I think she’s earned her reward,” Hongjoong says.
“I agree.”
You’re moved then; lifted from Hongjoong’s lap and placed back down on the floor, on your knees the way you’d been before. Hongjoong grabs your jaw, pushing his thumb into your mouth and using it to ease it open. “Show me your tongue,” he says. “And your throat. Gotta make sure.”
You must look confused, because Jongho, sat next to Hongjoong and peering down at you with equal intensity, huffs out a low laugh. “Sweet girl doesn’t get it, do you? Puppies need to be inspected all over. That includes the mouth. Anywhere that can take a finger or a dick needs to be checked.”
Oh, right. You let your mouth open a little more, jaw falling slack, something warm pulsing in your chest at the satisfied sound Hongjoong makes in response. He looks focused, brows furrowed slightly, finger pressing down on your tongue, then pushing to the back of your throat, then running across your bottom lip. “Very good,” he says. “Seonghwa, come here. Bring her tail.”
A tail. You perk up, back straightening some, and something tightens in your gut at the thought. Hongjoong smiles. “Eager, huh?” He says. “The tail matches your ears.” He reaches to tug at one of the ears gently, the clips it’s fastened to tugging at your hair slightly. “It’s fixed to a plug. Can you take a plug right now?”
You nod, barking quietly. You can definitely take a plug now; you haven’t eaten much, and you cleaned yourself out this morning as you always do. Hongjoong nods. “Good,” he says. “Lean over, then. Ass up.”
You feel the presence behind you, then your ass grazing against someone’s crotch. His hands comes to rest on your hips, steadying you, then push your skirt the rest of the way over your ass where it has already started to fall. “Easy,” comes a low murmur. Seonghwa’s hand moves down, the other locked in place to hold you still, and slowly starts to tug down your panties. They’re pulled to your mid-thigh, far enough down to expose you but high enough that the fabric keeps your legs pressed together somewhat. The sound of a cap being undone, then liquid squeezed out, makes your breath catch in your throat.
You exhale, steadying yourself. It’s just a plug. You’ve taken things in your ass before.
It’s cold, both the lube and the what feels like steel of the plug; you gasp, flinching ever so slightly, but you manage not to react too much. Seonghwa’s hand stays firm on your hip while the other pushes the plug in past your rim; it’s a full feeling, intrusive, but not quite a stretch.
“There we go,” he hums, pushing it the rest of the way inside until your rim is curled around the base of it. He pats your ass, not quite a smack, but there’s a slight sting to it that makes you wonder if there’s still a sensitivity there from the spanking you took a couple of days ago. “Now she’s a puppy,” Seonghwa says. “Isn’t she cute?”
“Adorable,” San says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “Looks natural, doesn’t it? I wonder how it feels.”
“Full, probably,” Jongho says. “Kneel, puppy.”
You feel their eyes on you as you push yourself up onto your knees; your panties are still bunched around your thighs, the fabric slightly tangled, damp and sticky at the crotch, but you don’t try to move them. You know better than that.
You wonder what their plans are for you; if they have any at all, or if they just want to have you like this. Hongjoong sighs, adjusting himself, hips pushing outwards slightly, then points downwards. “Here, girl.”
You crawl over to him as gracefully as you can, settling on your knees by his side; he rests a hand on your head and runs his thumb over your scalp. “Eyes up,” he orders. “Good girl, you’re a natural. And so pretty with your little tail, aren’t you?”
His hand moves down to grip your jaw, fingers digging into your cheeks, then pulls away. You hear the smack before you feel it; the loud, sharp sound that rings out on its own for a few seconds before the pain hits.
It’s not overly hard. It doesn’t knock the wind out of you. But the sound and the sting and the way his expression doesn’t change—still cool, still passive, as though nothing had happened at all—makes something in your stomach swoop and your vision blur at the edges. You bite back a whine, afraid it will come out louder than you can get away with, but something in your face must betray you, because Hongjoong breathes out a laugh then hits you again. “Pathetic,” he says, but the softness of his tone makes the word land like praise. “Don’t give me those puppy eyes.”
“She probably feels a little lost right now,” Jongho says. “All floaty and fuzzy and hardly being touched. Wondering if we’re gonna put her to use or just string her out.”
“Must be hard not knowing,” Hongjoong says. “Colour, puppy? You can speak.”
“Green.” The word feels oddly unfamiliar on your tongue; the sound of your voice, small and soft, strangely foreign. You’ve already gotten accustomed to being quiet. To barking and whining and whimpering. Speaking feels… wrong.
“Good girl,” Hongjoong replies. “Then I’ll put you out of your misery. You’re not getting off today. Clear?”
You nod. You’d sort of figured.
“Good,” he says. “Then you can get your bed and bring it over here. Save the floor digging into your poor little knees. Go on.”
You nod, turning away from him; he sends you off with a smack to your ass as you start to crawl away. It makes the plug shift inside you, reminding you of the presence that had already started to slip your mind, and you whimper.
You feel them watching you as you move. When you reach the bed, for just a moment, you hesitate.
You can’t use your hands; they’re still snug in those soft mittens, and you doubt you’d be allowed to anyway. So how…?
“Teeth,” someone says. “Come on. You’ve seen puppies pick things up, haven’t you?”
You have. It’s not as easy to pick up as your bone was, of course (rest in peace to that poor piece of plastic), but you manage to tug it along the floor as you crawl back over to Hongjoong. He takes it from you once you’re within reach, putting it down between where he and Jongho are seated, then taps it with his foot. “Down,” he says. “On your knees. Face Jongho.”
Jongho slips his fingers past your mouth just as Hongjoong had done, pulling your head to rest against his thigh; his fingers are splayed across the back of your head and neck, thumb rubbing soft circles into your skin, and you can’t help but sigh contentedly.
You’re so comfy. This is so easy. You’re right where you want to be.
Nothing much happens for the next while. You stay there, still and silent, as they go about their day; people come and go, to their rooms, Hongjoong and Mingi leaving for a while to get a hook recorded before they forget it, but you don’t move. Nor does Jongho. He takes his hand away from your head after a while, but his fingers stay in your mouth, resting atop your tongue.
You’re not really thinking about much. Time seems to slip by separate from you; independently, like you’re floating somewhere it can’t quite reach. You don’t fall asleep—but you’re not exactly awake, either. You’re just… there.
They feed you your lunch by hand, sandwiches cut up into small bites, then hold a bottle of water to your lips until you’ve downed at least half of it. Your plug comes out a little while later; you don’t want it to, of course, enjoying the feeling of fullness and the softness of your tale against your legs, but Yunho’s narrowed eyes and the threat of a whipping stops your whining before it can really start.
“You’ve had it in long enough,” he says. “I can easily go and get your leash. Do you need some lashes on your thighs with it to help the point sink in?”
You shake your head quickly, biting down on your lip as if to physically trap your protests in your throat. Yunho nods, humming, a noise halfway between amusement and satisfaction sounding out in the silence as he slowly eases the plug out of you.
“Good puppy,” he murmurs. “You’re going to start to come up now. Slowly. You’ve been down for a while, haven’t you?”
True to his words, you come down steadily, at your own pace. They don’t rush you; Jongho’s other hand returns to rest against your head where it had been before, caressing you slowly, his touch just heavy enough to feel grounding and stabilising as you come back to earth.
The paws are the first to come off, untied and pulled off of your hands so quietly you don’t even notice. Your ears are next. Your collar comes off only once you’ve been lifted off of your bed and settled by Jongho’s side.
“There we go,” he says. “Coming up, huh? In your own time, baby. You can speak whenever you want to.”
“Sir.” The word is quiet, mumbled, your face pressed into Jongho’s side, eyes half closed.
“I’m here,” he assures you. “You did well.”
His arm is wrapped around your shoulder, you realise, hand rubbing up and down your back. He’s slid it under your shirt so his skin is pressed directly against yours, and his hand is warm, the skin soft.
“It’s almost time for dinner,” he tells you. “Do you think you can eat?”
“Wanna stay here,” you respond. “Comfy.”
“You can eat here,” he says. “We’ll bring the food through, just this once.”
“Once?”
“Not really,” he says. “Usually we eat at the table. But I’m sure the others wouldn’t mind you eating in here when you want to. Especially when you’ve just been so good and sweet for us.”
Another hand, larger, comes to rest on your thigh, following the curve of it where it’s angled towards Jongho. “How’s the pup?” Mingi asks, his voice a low drawl.
“Still coming up, I think,” Jongho answers. “Not sure you still calling her pup is gonna help the process though.”
Mingi huff, snorting slightly. “That has nothing to do with the scene,” he says. “She looks like a little puppy all the time to me. Tiny and naughty and eager to please.”
“I suppose she does.”
“How’s your hole, honey?” It takes a second for you to register that Mingi is talking to you.
“Fine,” you respond. “Empty.”
He laughs. “I’ll bet. You take a plug well, don’t you? Good at having your ass full. You like it?”
“Like it,” you repeat. “Comfy.”
“I’m sure it is.”
They feed you your dinner, too, noodles in a light soup that Jongho balances in your lap while he feeds you small mouthfuls of it, praising you with each one. You’ve never been praised for something so unremarkable before.
You don’t do any more scenes that day, but the small, lingering pieces of the high and the peace and the calm fuzziness stay with you until nightfall.
San comes to check on you when you’re tucked in, just before you turn off the light. He’s in his pyjamas too, soft looking blue checkered ones, his glasses sitting on his nose and his feet snug in his navy blue slippers. He looks homely. Cozy. Like something you could hide away in.
He runs his hand up your body where it’s tucked beneath the blanket, from the bottom of your legs to your cheek; his hand lingers there for a second, cupping your face, and there’s nothing but softness in his eyes. “You did well today,” he says quietly.
“Thank you.”
He leans into you slightly, just a little, and for a moment you think he’s going to kiss you; where his lips would land is another question, of course, but something in his expression seems to speak to an intention along those lines.
But then he hesitates. Stops. Moves back again. The smile on his face is no less genuine even as he retreats.
He’s just starting to turn for the door when you speak, the words slipping past your lips before you can consider them.
“San,” you call quietly. “Stay?”
He pauses, smile fading and for one moment, ice cold, you think he’s going to say no and the illusion of care and fondness they’ve created for you over these past few days will shatter into tiny pathetic pieces. But then the smile comes back softer, gentler, and he nods, climbing into bed with you and pulling you into his arms. “Course,” he murmurs. “C’mere, puppy.”
His hold is strong and firm but not hard; it yields and gives where you want it to and holds you tight where you don’t. He, they, seem to do much the same.
“Why do you do this?” You ask, out of the blue. Sleepiness has always loosened your tongue a little. “Like, have a sub all together.”
“As opposed to what?” He asks.
You shrug. It feels like a trick question somehow, but he’s looking at you with nothing but patience. “One sub each, or hookups, or…girlfriends or something.”
He’s quiet for a moment; thoughtful. “Think of it like this,” he starts. “Everyone needs connection, right? And release. With our jobs we aren’t really able to meet those needs in a meaningful way; too busy for girlfriends, of course, and it can get messy as idols anyway. We had hookups, as well, but it didn’t do it for us.”
“Why not?”
“Because release on its own does nothing for us. It has to be both. There has to be connection, deep connection. We couldn’t get that from just sex. We were all feeling it but we weren’t sure what else to do other than, like, fuck each other, which, no.”
He makes a face, exaggerated and you giggle softly. He glances down at you with a small smile and adjusts you in his hold a little; now, held against his chest, you feel the low, calm vibrations of his voice as he speaks to you. “Then I just… started thinking about it. Saw someone online talking about their sub and it made me think. Not just about having a sub but about sharing with the others, too. We’d all tended to take dominant roles in sex, and when we were doing hookups we’d sometimes share a girl together, in twos or threes usually. Turns out we all wanted something deeper too, and we all get a lot of fulfilment from being in control. From taking care of someone, taking charge of them. Which led us here.”
“That makes sense,” you hum. “Do you think…do you still feel lacking anything, like you did before?”
He takes a second to think. “No,” he answers. “This feels right. In a job like ours your whole life is controlled; everything is decided for you. But with you, with this, we can have control. We can have responsibility and bear it. And by having it together we find our own bond with each other deepens. Hey, look at me.”
He suddenly shifts you, tilting your head upwards by the chin to meet his eyes. “Whatever happens, we’ll never take for granted this gift you’ve given us,” he says. “I want you to know that.”
“Gift?” You repeat. “What gift?”
“Your submission,” he responds. “Your surrender. Letting us have control when we usually have none. It’s not a small thing to us. Never would be.”
“Thank you.” It slips out without any thought; instinct rather than reply. It feels a little strange, to say it, not really certain what you’re thanking him for, but he hums like he knows exactly what you mean and pulls you closer.
You fall asleep that way, in his arms, wrapped in the shared silence.
told you it was coming back! thank you so much for waiting. i hadn’t anticipated how crazy this school year was going to be but im so glad to finally be able to continue this. i promise i will not make u wait that long again!!!
your comments and thoughts are SO appreciated and make me more motivated to continue my work on this. love🖤🖤🖤
Married off to a feared king to secure peace, you expect cruelty. What they find instead is distance.
He does not touch you.
He does not claim you.
He barely even looks at you.
But in a palace full of watching eyes and quiet betrayal, you begin to realize something unsettling he has been protecting you all along.
Pairing: Choi Jongho x Reader
Genre: Royal AU, Political Drama, Slow Burn Romance, Emotional Angst
Tropes: Arranged Marriage, He falls first, Cold x Observant, Only soft for her (eventually), Misunderstood Male Lead, Court Intrigue / Hidden Enemies
Featuring: all of ATEEZ
Main Masterlist | Jonghos Masterlist
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
This is Part 4
The council room had begun to feel suffocating.
Jongho stood near the large table at the center of the room, one hand braced against the wood while the other rested near the scattered reports spread before him. Maps, names, guard rotations, statements from servants and soldiers alike. Days of searching and still no clear answer.
The assassin remained faceless.
Invisible.
And Jongho was running out of patience.
“The servant entrances were searched again this morning,” Yeosang said calmly from the opposite side of the table. “Nothing unusual.”
“There has to be another access point,” Yunho muttered, frustration clear in his voice as he crossed his arms. “Nobody disappears this easily inside the palace.”
Seonghwa remained quieter than the others, studying the reports with sharp concentration. “Or someone inside is helping them.”
The room fell silent for a moment at that.
Jongho’s jaw tightened.
He already knew that possibility existed. He simply hated how likely it had become.
His shoulder still ached occasionally, especially during long days, but it no longer slowed him. The bandages beneath his clothing felt more irritating than painful now, though Y/n still fussed over him enough that he sometimes wondered if she enjoyed forcing him to sit still more than she should.
The thought surfaced unexpectedly.
And with it came the memory of her laughing the night before.
Of her leaning against him half asleep while complaining that he cheated at chess even though he had lost again.
Something in his chest softened immediately. Dangerously so.
“You’re doing it again.”
Jongho looked up sharply.
Yunho sighed. “Leaving mentally.”
“I am listening.”
“You are thinking about your wife,” Seonghwa corrected lightly.
Jongho frowned. “That obvious?”
Yeosang looked unimpressed. “Painfully.”
Yunho snorted softly.
Before Jongho could answer, hurried footsteps echoed outside the room.
All four men looked toward the door immediately.
Then the doors burst open.
Mingi stormed inside, breathing harder than usual, his expression darker than Jongho had seen in a long time.
Behind him came several knights. And between them was Hana.
Held tightly by the arms despite how violently she struggled against them.
Jongho stared.
Confusion struck first. Then immediate suspicion.
“What is this?”
His voice cut sharply through the room.
Mingi looked furious.
Before he could speak Hana laughed.
The sound was ugly. Twisted in a way Jongho had never heard from her before.
“My king,” she said mockingly, her eyes bright with something venomous. “Would you not like to see your lovely wife?”
The room stilled instantly.
Jongho’s blood ran cold. Every muscle in his body locked at once.
“What happened?”
This time his voice was quieter. Far more dangerous.
Mingi stepped forward immediately. “She attacked the queen.”
The words hit like a blade directly through his chest.
For a second Jongho could not move. Could not breathe.
“What?”
“She lured her into the gardens,” Mingi continued quickly. “She tried to abduct her. The queen escaped and ran toward the training grounds.”
Jongho’s heart pounded violently now.
Too fast.
In his mind he already saw it…
Y/n running.
Terrified. Hurt. Alone.
Mingi kept speaking. “She was struck in the leg by a thrown knife before we reached her.”
Jongho moved before he fully registered doing so.
His chair crashed backward violently as he stormed toward the door.
Toward her.
Nothing else mattered.
Behind him Hana laughed again.
“You should have seen her scream your name,” she called after him. “Your precious little wife looked so afraid—”
Jongho stopped. The entire room changed.
Even the air itself seemed to tighten.
Slowly he turned back.
The darkness on his face made Yunho straighten immediately.
Hana’s smile faltered slightly.
For the first time fear touched her expression.
Jongho walked toward her.
The knights holding her shifted uneasily.
“H-His Majesty—”
Jongho ignored them. He stopped directly in front of her.
And grabbed her throat.
Hana gasped violently as his hand tightened instantly, forcing her upward slightly despite the knights still restraining her.
The room remained silent. Nobody moved.
Because they had all seen this side of him before. The side the kingdom feared.
Jongho’s face remained terrifyingly calm.
Which made the rage beneath it infinitely worse.
“You,” he said quietly, tightening his grip further when she tried to pull away, “should pray.”
Hana clawed weakly at his wrist.
“You should pray,” he repeated, his voice lowering further, “that my wife survives this.”
Her face began losing color.
The knights looked increasingly uncomfortable.
Mingi himself looked ready to kill her.
Jongho released her suddenly.
Hana collapsed coughing violently against the soldiers holding her upright.
He looked at none of them again.
Only turned and walked out.
The corridors blurred around him.
Servants flattened themselves against walls as he passed, his pace bordering on reckless now.
His thoughts spiraled violently.
He should have listened to his instincts. He should have guarded her more closely.
He should have…
No.
She would be alive. She had to be.
He reached their chambers and shoved the doors open so hard they struck the wall.
The sight inside nearly stopped his heart.
Y/n lay unconscious on the bed.
Her dress had been ruined, blood staining the torn fabric near her leg in dark crimson streaks. Her face looked pale beneath the candlelight, strands of hair clinging messily to her skin.
Too pale.
Doctors surrounded her, speaking over one another in tense voices while bloody cloths piled nearby.
Jongho crossed the room immediately.
“What is happening?”
The physicians startled visibly at his tone.
One of them straightened quickly. “Your Majesty, the knife caused significant tearing to the muscle and skin. We must stitch the wound closed but—”
“But what?”
The man hesitated.
“The scar will likely remain severe.”
Jongho stared at him. As if he had just spoken another language entirely.
The physician swallowed.
“We thought perhaps Her Majesty would prefer we proceed more cautiously to minimize—”
“Are you stupid?”
The room froze. Jongho stepped closer, fury flashing across his face openly now.
“SEW HER LEG TOGETHER.”
His voice echoed violently through the room. “I do not care about a scar.”
The doctors immediately moved again.
Nobody dared hesitate further.
Jongho turned back toward the bed.
And for the first time since entering he really looked at her.
Shock settled heavily into him.
Because she looked fragile.
This was the woman who argued with him over chess boards and mocked him without fear. The woman who laughed too loudly sometimes and curled against him in her sleep like she belonged there.
Seeing her unmoving like this felt wrong in a way he could barely endure.
His hand reached for hers immediately.
One of the physicians began cleaning the wound again while another prepared the stitching thread.
Then Y/n screamed.
Her body jerked violently awake from the sudden pain, panic flooding instantly into her expression as she tried to sit up.
“Wait—!”
The doctor reached for her.
She cried out again when they touched her leg.
Jongho moved immediately. “I’m here.”
His hands caught her carefully, pulling her against him despite the physicians protesting that she should remain still.
Her breathing was ragged. Tears filled her eyes instantly from the pain.
“It hurts—”
“I know.”
Jongho held her tighter.
His hand moved into her hair instinctively, steadying her against his chest while the physicians resumed their work carefully.
“You’re safe,” he whispered.
Her fingers clutched desperately at his shirt.
“It hurts,” she repeated weakly.
The sound nearly destroyed him.
“I know,” he said again softly, pressing his lips briefly against her forehead. “I know, my love.”
Another stitch.
Y/n cried out sharply and buried her face against his neck immediately.
Jongho’s jaw tightened violently. Every instinct in him screamed to stop this. To make them stop hurting her.
But the wound had to be closed.
So instead he held her tighter while she trembled against him.
“You’re doing well,” he murmured quietly. “Just a little longer.”
Her breathing shook unevenly.
He could feel tears soaking into his collar.
“I thought…” she whispered brokenly. “I thought she would take me away…”
Jongho closed his eyes briefly. Rage surged again instantly at the image.
Hana near her. Touching her. Threatening her.
His grip tightened unconsciously.
“You are here now,” he said firmly. “Nobody is taking you anywhere.”
Another painful stitch. She gasped sharply against him.
“I hate this,” she whispered miserably.
The words were so genuinely upset that despite everything—
Something in his chest softened painfully.
“You may complain about it as much as you wish afterward.”
A weak sound left her. Halfway between a laugh and a cry.
The doctors continued carefully.
Every second felt unbearable.
Jongho never let go of her once. Not even when she nearly crushed his hand from pain. Not even when exhaustion finally began overtaking panic and her body started trembling less violently against him.
When the final stitch was tied, the physicians stepped back carefully.
“It is done, Your Majesty.”
Jongho barely looked at them. His attention remained entirely on her.
Y/n looked exhausted now, her eyes heavy despite the lingering tears clinging to her lashes.
Still she looked at him.
Focused on him immediately despite everything else.
“You’re okay,” she whispered weakly.
The words stunned him.
Even now, after everything she was worrying about him.
Jongho brushed her hair carefully away from her face.
“I should be asking you that.”
Her lips trembled slightly. “I was scared.”
Something in him cracked at that confession.
Because he knew. Knew exactly how frightened she must have been.
And he had not been there.
The guilt settled heavily into his chest.
“I’m sorry.”
She blinked slowly. “What?”
“I should have protected you.”
The words came rougher than intended.
“I told you not to go into the gardens and still failed to ensure your safety.”
Her expression softened immediately.“That’s not your fault.”
“It is.”
“It isn’t.”
Even injured, exhausted, and pale, she still argued with him.
The realization almost made him smile.
Instead he lowered his forehead briefly against hers.
“You terrified me.”
Her breath caught softly at the honesty in his voice.
Then her hand lifted weakly to his face.
“I’m here.”
Yes. She was. And suddenly that felt like the only thing holding him together.
Y/n slept not long after the stitching was finished.
One moment she had still been clutching weakly at his shirt, her breathing uneven from pain and exhaustion, and the next her body simply gave out beneath the strain of it all.
The physicians assured him it was normal. That her body had endured too much stress in too little time.
Jongho almost threw them all out anyway. Instead, he remained beside her bed long after everyone else had left the room.
The candles burned lower as the night stretched on, shadows shifting softly across the walls while silence settled heavily around him.
Y/n slept without moving. Her face had regained some color, though not enough to ease the tightness in his chest every time he looked at her. The bandages around her leg had been freshly changed, the injury hidden beneath layers of clean fabric that somehow made it no less horrifying in his mind.
Because he had seen it.
Seen the blood.
Seen the knife embedded in her leg.
Seen the terror on her face when she woke screaming from the stitching.
And worst of all he had seen how close he had come to losing her.
Jongho sat beside the bed with one hand wrapped carefully around hers, his thumb brushing absentmindedly across her knuckles while his thoughts spiraled endlessly through everything that could have happened.
Everything that almost did.
He lowered her hand slightly and pressed a soft kiss against her skin.
Then another.
The gesture had become instinctive over the last two days. He barely realized he was doing it anymore.
The physicians had noticed, though. So had Seonghwa.
Hongjoong outright smirked the first time he saw it.
Jongho ignored them all. Because none of them understood the weight pressing against his chest every time she so much as shifted in pain.
The door opened quietly behind him.
One of the royal physicians stepped inside, careful not to disturb the silence too much.
Jongho looked up immediately. “How is she?”
The older man bowed slightly before approaching the bed.
“Her fever has lowered, Your Majesty. That is a good sign.”
Good. Not enough.But good.
The physician hesitated briefly while checking Y/n’s pulse again.
“There is… another matter.”
Jongho’s body tensed instantly. “What?”
“We cannot confirm it yet,” the physician said carefully. “But it is possible Her Majesty may be with child.”
Everything inside Jongho stopped.
The room. The silence. Even his breathing.
“What?”
The physician lowered his gaze respectfully. “The symptoms align with early pregnancy. Given recent events, we hesitated to mention it before having more certainty.”
Jongho stared at him.
Then slowly his eyes dropped to Y/n.
Still asleep. Still pale. Still holding onto life by sheer stubbornness alone.
And now possibly carrying his child.
Something sharp and terrifying moved through his chest immediately.
Protectiveness. Fear. Wonder.
All at once.
His fingers tightened carefully around hers.
The physician continued quietly. “We will know more within the coming days.”
Jongho barely heard him.
His attention remained fixed entirely on her.
A child. His child. Their child.
The thought settled heavily into him.
Not unpleasantly.
Just overwhelmingly.
The physician eventually excused himself quietly, leaving Jongho alone again.
He remained seated beside the bed.
His gaze tracing every detail of her face.
Then slowly, almost reverently, he lifted her hand again and pressed another kiss to her knuckles.
“You are making this very difficult for me,” he murmured softly.
She did not wake.
Three days later, Jongho stood beneath the cold stone ceilings of the palace prison.
The air smelled of iron and dampness, the distant sound of dripping water echoing through the narrow corridors while torchlight flickered unevenly against the walls.
San walked beside him. Mingi slightly behind.
Neither spoke.
Because they all knew why they were here.
And none of them were in the mood for words.
Yeosang had remained behind with Y/n.
Jongho trusted him more than anyone else to protect her if necessary.
Especially now. Especially after what the physicians had told him.
His jaw tightened immediately at the thought.
Nobody was touching her again.
The prison doors opened further ahead.
Wooyoung already stood inside one of the cells, leaning casually against the bars despite the tension radiating through the room.
Hana sat chained against the wall, her head lowered at first, strands of dirty hair falling across her bruised face. One of her wrists was stained red where the iron restraints had rubbed her skin raw, and dried blood marked the corner of her mouth.
She looked ruined.
The moment she heard Jongho step into the cell, she lifted her head slowly.
And smiled. It was a horrible expression now.
Broken. Unstable. Still smug somehow.
“You came back,” she rasped softly.
Wooyoung pushed himself away from the bars, arms crossed tightly over his chest. “She still refuses to speak.”
Hana laughed weakly.
“She will talk eventually,” Wooyoung continued flatly. “Usually just insults.”
Mingi scoffed from the doorway. “Let me handle her for five minutes.”
“No,” Jongho said quietly.
That single word silenced the room immediately.
Because there was something wrong with his voice. Something too calm.
Jongho stepped further into the cell slowly, stopping directly in front of Hana.
She looked up at him through swollen eyes.And still smiled.
“How is your queen?” she asked softly. “Still crying?”
The chain around Hana’s throat tightened suddenly as Jongho grabbed it and jerked her forward violently.
The sound she made was half gasp, half choke.
“You tried to take my wife.” His voice remained low.
Which made it infinitely more terrifying.
Hana coughed harshly, trying to straighten slightly despite the chain biting into her neck. “She looked so frightened,” she whispered. “I didn’t think royals could scream like tha—”
Jongho tightened the chain harder. Hard enough that she gagged.
Mingi watched with frightening satisfaction. San remained silent near the entrance, though the tightness in his jaw betrayed how furious he still was.
“You will tell me who ordered this.”
Hana smiled again despite the tears gathering painfully in her eyes from the pressure around her throat.
“And if I don’t?”
Jongho released the chain suddenly.
Hana collapsed forward coughing violently. The room stayed quiet while she struggled to breathe.
Then Jongho crouched in front of her.
His gaze remained fixed entirely on her face.
“We found your family.”
That got her attention.
Her breathing faltered slightly.
Jongho noticed immediately.
“There are five of them,” he continued quietly. “Your mother. Your father. Two younger brothers.”
Hana stared at him now.
The smile fading slowly.
“And your sister.”
Silence.
“She is twelve,” Jongho said softly.
Hana’s jaw tightened.
“She cries easily.”
For the first time something flickered behind her eyes.
Jongho leaned slightly closer. “If you continue refusing to speak,” he said quietly, “I will begin with your youngest brother.”
Hana swallowed hard despite herself.
“He is what?” Jongho continued softly. “Eight?”
She glared at him immediately. “Don’t touch them.”
“There is a small knife used by palace physicians,” Jongho went on calmly, ignoring her interruption completely. “Very sharp. Very thin.”
The room felt colder suddenly. Even Wooyoung stopped leaning casually against the wall.
“With it,” Jongho continued, his voice almost conversational now, “I can remove pieces of him slowly enough to keep him alive for several hours.”
Hana’s breathing quickened.
Mingi stared at Jongho briefly. Even he looked slightly unsettled now.
Jongho never looked away from Hana. “I think I will start with his fingers.”
“No.”
The word left her immediately.
Panicked.
Jongho continued speaking anyway. “One by one.”
“Stop.”
“Then perhaps his hands entirely.”
“You’re lying.”
Jongho tilted his head slightly. Amusement flickered briefly across his face.
“You know I am not.”
That was the problem. Everyone in the room knew he wasn’t.
Hana looked away first.
Her body trembled slightly now.
Jongho leaned closer still.
“And after him,” he whispered quietly, “I will move to your younger sister.”
Hana’s head snapped back toward him immediately.
“No.”
“She is very cute,” Jongho continued softly. “I imagine she would remain cute even while screaming.”
“STOP.”
Her voice cracked violently.
Jongho’s expression never changed.
“I will carve her apart slowly enough,” he said quietly, “that your mother will hear every sound.”
Tears gathered instantly in Hana’s eyes now.
“You monster.”
Jongho smiled slightly. A terrible expression.
“Your queen called me worse once.”
Hana shook violently against the chains now.
“You touched my wife.”
The room fell completely silent.
“She woke screaming in pain because of you.”
Hana cried openly now, shaking her head desperately.
“You don’t understand—”
“No,” Jongho interrupted quietly. “You do not understand.”
His voice lowered further.
“If my wife dies…” his eyes remained fixed entirely on hers, “your family will beg for death long before I allow it.”
Hana looked genuinely horrified now.
Jongho continued anyway.
“I will keep your parents alive long enough to watch every one of their children die first.”
“Please—”
“And afterward,” he whispered, “I will return to you.”
Her breathing became ragged.
“I will remove your eyes first.”
Mingi stared. San looked away entirely now.
Even Wooyoung’s face had gone completely blank.
Jongho remained terrifyingly calm.
“You will hear everything,” he continued softly. “Your family screaming. Your brothers begging for their mother.”
Something inside Hana finally broke.
The fight drained slowly from her face, leaving behind exhaustion and hopelessness so deep it almost looked hollow.
Tears rolled silently down her bruised cheeks now.
“You don’t understand,” she whispered weakly.
Jongho’s expression did not change.
“They already won.”
Silence settled heavily into the room.
Hana lifted her bloodshot eyes toward him again.
This time there was no madness in them.
Only despair.
“The queen was never meant to die quickly,” she murmured. “That would make her a martyr.”
Jongho stilled.
Cold spread instantly through his chest.
“What are you talking about?”
Hana swallowed hard.
“The kingdom needs instability,” she whispered. “Fear. War. If the queen dies slowly after being attacked inside your own palace…” Her lips trembled weakly. “Her people will blame you.”
No one in the room moved.
“The alliance breaks,” she continued quietly. “Your kingdoms turn against each other again. And while everyone fights…” Her gaze lowered weakly. “The throne becomes vulnerable.”
Jongho felt something dark and violent rise instantly inside him.
“What did you do?”
Hana closed her eyes briefly. “The head physicians.”
Mingi cursed immediately.
Hana continued speaking anyway, her voice distant now.
„They wereinstructed to poison her slowly while treating the wound.” A weak breath left her. “Fever. Weakness. Organ failure eventually.”
San moved first toward the door.
Jongho’s entire body locked violently.
“When?”
Hana looked at him again.
And for the first time she looked afraid for him.
“He’s probably with her already.”
Silence exploded.
Jongho stood so quickly the chair behind him crashed backward violently.
No.
No no no…
He turned immediately.
Hana’s weak voice followed behind him one last time.
“If you run now…” she whispered hoarsely, “you might still make it before she dies.”
Jongho had never run this fast through his own palace before.
The corridors blurred around him, servants flattening themselves against the walls in panic as he stormed past. His heartbeat pounded violently in his ears, drowning out almost everything else.
Too late.
The words repeated endlessly in his mind.
Too late.
Every possible image forced itself into his thoughts no matter how hard he tried to stop them. Y/n pale and motionless. Her breathing gone. Her body cold.
No.
His chest tightened painfully.
She was alive. She had to be.
Jongho reached the corridor leading to their chambers and nearly collided with San, Mingi, and Wooyoung following closely behind him.
Nobody spoke.
Because the fear between them had become something tangible now.
The doors to their chambers stood open.
Jongho stormed inside.
And stopped.
For one horrifying second all he saw was blood.
Dark red staining the floorboards in violent streaks, spreading so heavily across the room that his mind immediately reached the worst conclusion possible.
Y/n.
His heart nearly stopped.
Then he saw movement.
Yeosang stood near the bed, breathing unevenly, sword still in hand. Blood covered his clothing and dripped steadily from the blade onto the floor beneath him.
Not his blood. Not Y/n’s.
The physicians.
Three bodies lay scattered across the room. One near the overturned table. Another slumped against the wall.
And the third, still barely alive on the floor, choking weakly through blood bubbling from his mouth.
Jongho moved instantly toward the bed.
Y/n still lay there. Alive.
His knees almost gave out from relief.
Her chest still rose and fell.
“What happened?” His voice came out rough.
Yeosang lowered the sword slowly, his expression darker than Jongho had seen in a long time.
“One of them prepared another injection,” he said quietly. “I noticed they became nervous when I asked what it contained.”
Jongho’s jaw tightened violently.
Yeosang continued. “When I tried to stop them, two attacked me.” His gaze flickered briefly toward the dead physicians. “The third attempted to force the poison into the queen anyway.”
Jongho looked toward the surviving physician on the floor.
Rage flooded him immediately.
The man coughed violently, blood staining his chin while he tried weakly to crawl backward.
Jongho crossed the room slowly. Terrifyingly calm.
The physician looked up at him and immediately began trembling.
“Please—”
Jongho grabbed him by the collar and dragged him upward hard enough to make the man scream.
“Why?”
The physician cried out weakly. “We had no choice!”
Jongho slammed him against the floor again. “WHY?”
The man coughed violently.
“They promised us positions in the new court!” he gasped desperately. “A new king, a new kingdom, more power—”
Mingi looked disgusted. “You poisoned the queen for that?”
The physician shook uncontrollably now.
“We were told it would be slow,” he whispered. “No one would suspect immediately—”
A horrible sound interrupted him.
Jongho turned instantly.
Y/n’s body jerked violently against the bed. Her back arched sharply as her hands clenched painfully into the sheets, her breathing suddenly ragged and uneven.
“Y/n!”
Jongho released the physician immediately and rushed back to her side.
Her entire body trembled violently now, muscles tightening painfully while her breathing became broken gasps.
No. No no no.
“Do something!” Jongho barked toward the remaining healers rushing into the room behind them.
But nobody moved. Nobody knew what to do.
The poison had already spread.
Y/n cried out weakly, her body spasming again.
Jongho grabbed her immediately, trying to steady her even though panic had begun clawing violently through his chest.
“Look at me,” he whispered desperately. “Y/n, look at me.”
Her eyes fluttered weakly but unfocused entirely.
Fear unlike anything he had ever known settled deep into his bones.
He could fight kingdoms. Wars. Assassins.
But this…this helplessness threatened to destroy him.
Another violent spasm tore through her body.
Jongho’s breathing became uneven.
He had no idea how to stop this.
And for the first time in years, he was terrified.
Then a small voice spoke behind them.
“I know what poison this is.”
Everyone turned immediately.
A young girl slowly emerged from behind one of the large armchairs near the fireplace, her face pale with fear. She could not have been older than fourteen.
Jongho frowned sharply. “Who are you?”
The girl swallowed hard.
“I help in the kitchens sometimes,” she whispered nervously. “I brought fresh towels earlier and hid when the fighting started.”
Yeosang lowered his sword slightly.
The girl looked toward Y/n immediately, fear flashing across her face.
“My parents are apothecaries,” she said quickly. “I’ve seen this poison before.”
Hope hit Jongho so violently it almost hurt. “You can help her?”
The girl nodded shakily. “I think so.”
“Then do it.”
She startled slightly at the harshness in his voice before quickly nodding again.
“I need herbs from the kitchens. And hot water.”
Servants moved immediately.
The girl rushed toward the table, hands trembling slightly as she began sorting through the remaining medicinal supplies left by the dead physicians.
Jongho stayed beside Y/n the entire time, holding her tightly while her body continued shaking weakly against him.
“You’re alright,” he whispered repeatedly, though he was no longer sure whether he was trying to convince her or himself.
The girl returned quickly with herbs clutched tightly in her arms.
She worked fast. Far faster than someone her age should have been capable of.
Grinding leaves. Mixing powders. Crushing herbs together into steaming liquid while everyone in the room watched in suffocating silence.
Finally, she lifted the small cup carefully.
Jongho’s eyes narrowed immediately. “How do I know that isn’t poison too?”
The girl froze briefly.
Then without hesitation, she lifted the cup and drank from it herself.
The room went completely silent.
The girl swallowed.
Then handed the cup back toward him with shaking hands.
“If I wanted to hurt the queen,” she whispered quietly, “I would have stayed hidden.”
Jongho stared at her for one long second. Then nodded once.
He carefully lifted Y/n slightly while the girl helped pour the antidote slowly between her lips.
At first nothing happened.
Then suddenly Y/n’s body jerked once more.
Jongho tightened his hold instantly.
The trembling stopped. Silence filled the room.
Y/n’s breathing slowly steadied.
Her body relaxed weakly against him instead of convulsing.
The relief that hit Jongho was so overwhelming it nearly made him dizzy.
He lowered his forehead briefly against hers and closed his eyes for a moment.
Alive.
When he finally looked up again, his gaze found the young girl still standing nearby, visibly terrified now that everything had settled.
“What is your name?”
The girl blinked. “Ara, Your Majesty.”
Jongho looked at her for a long moment. Then slowly stood.
“Ara,” he said quietly, “would you and your parents like a new position in this palace?”
Her eyes widened immediately. “What?”
“You saved the queen’s life.” His voice remained calm now, though the emotion beneath it lingered heavily. “I would prefer healers who value lives more than power.”
The girl looked stunned.
Then emotional. And finally nodded quickly.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
For the first time since entering the room, Jongho almost smiled.
The first thing Y/n remembered clearly was Jongho’s voice.
Not the poison. Not the pain. Not even the terror in the garden.
Everything surrounding those moments had become blurred and fractured in her memory, broken apart into flashes that no longer connected properly. Sometimes she remembered cold hands holding her still. Sometimes the feeling of her body burning from the inside out. Sometimes panic clawing through her while voices echoed somewhere far away.
But through all of it there had always been him.
His voice.
Low.
Steady.
Soft in a way she had never heard before meeting him.
Even now, weeks later, she still remembered waking briefly in the middle of the night only to find him sitting beside her bed, his fingers wrapped around hers while exhaustion pulled at his face.
He had stayed.
Every time she opened her eyes.
The realization still made something warm settle deep in her chest.
Y/n adjusted the blanket over her legs slightly before leaning back against the mountain of pillows behind her. Her body still felt weak much too often, her leg aching whenever she moved too much, but compared to before she felt alive again.
The room smelled faintly of herbs and flowers now instead of blood and medicine. Sunlight spilled softly through the windows, warming the quiet atmosphere while voices moved gently around her.
Ara’s mother fussed with the blankets again.
“Your Majesty, you should not sit upright for too long.”
“I’m not dying anymore,” Y/n muttered.
The small woman gasped softly as if scandalized.
“You must not say things like that.”
Y/n smiled faintly despite herself.
Ara’s mother, Mina, had become impossible to dislike.
She was small and endlessly busy, always adjusting pillows or blankets or bringing tea Y/n had not asked for. Unlike Hana, her care felt warm rather than practiced, genuine in a way that soothed something raw inside Y/n she had not realized still hurt.
Ara herself sat near the window carefully organizing herbs while her father stood beside the bed.
Doctor Lee was a handsome man despite the gray beginning to streak through his dark hair. There was something calm about him, something steady that made the entire room feel safer whenever he entered.
He checked Y/n’s pulse gently before nodding slightly.
“You look stronger today.”
Y/n smiled softly. “That’s because Mina keeps trying to feed me enough for three people.”
Mina looked offended immediately. “You are carrying a child.”
“A child the size of a grape,” Y/n replied.
Ara snorted softly near the window before trying to hide it.
Doctor Lee smiled faintly. “Even grapes require strength.”
Y/n sighed dramatically, though warmth spread through her chest despite herself.
They had become something strangely close to family over the past weeks.
Perhaps because they had saved her. Perhaps because they had stayed.
Or perhaps because after everything that happened, Y/n no longer wanted distance from people who genuinely cared for her.
A knock sounded softly at the door. Before anyone answered, it opened.
Jongho entered immediately.
Y/n’s chest tightened the moment she saw him.
It still happened every time.
Ridiculous, honestly.
Especially now that she had spent weeks mostly confined to bed with him hovering constantly nearby whenever his duties allowed it.
And yet there he was.
Still beautiful. Still carrying that quiet authority that made entire rooms shift around him effortlessly.
Though lately, whenever he looked at her, that coldness people feared seemed to disappear entirely.
His gaze found her immediately. Softened instantly.
Doctor Lee stepped back slightly. “Your Majesty.”
“How is she?”
Jongho crossed the room quickly, his attention entirely fixed on Y/n while he spoke.
“She continues improving well,” Doctor Lee answered calmly. “The poison appears completely gone from her system now.”
Relief flickered briefly across Jongho’s face.
Even now. Weeks later.
As if some part of him still expected her to suddenly disappear if he looked away too long.
“And the child?” Jongho asked quietly.
Doctor Lee smiled faintly. “Strong.”
Something in Jongho visibly eased at that. Y/n noticed it immediately.
Doctor Lee glanced toward his wife and daughter. “We should allow Her Majesty to rest.”
Mina immediately moved to straighten another blanket before Ara dragged her gently toward the door despite the older woman’s quiet protests.
The room slowly emptied. Until only Jongho and Y/n remained.
The silence that settled afterward felt comfortable.
Warm.
Jongho crossed the remaining distance toward the bed before sitting carefully beside her.
As if by instinct.
He lifted it slowly, pressing a soft kiss against her fingers. Then another against her knuckles.
Y/n smiled faintly. “You do that a lot now.”
“I know.”
His answer came easily. Without embarrassment.
That still surprised her sometimes.
Jongho looked at her quietly for a moment before leaning closer and pressing a gentle kiss against her lips.
When he pulled back slightly, his forehead rested briefly against hers.
“I’m happy to see you awake.”
The honesty in his voice made her chest ache.
Y/n smiled softly. “Thank you.”
His brows pulled together slightly. “For what?”
“For staying.”
The words slipped out quietly.
But she meant them completely.
Because even in the fog of pain and fever, she remembered him.
His hands. His voice. The feeling of him beside her every single time she woke.
Something emotional flickered briefly across his face before he kissed her hand again.
“As if there was anywhere else I would be.”
Y/n’s eyes stung slightly. She looked away before she could embarrass herself.
And instead, she pulled the blanket down slightly over her stomach.
Jongho’s gaze immediately dropped.
The small curve there was still subtle. But unmistakable now.
Y/n touched it gently. Almost shyly.
“I still can’t believe it,” she whispered softly.
Jongho looked back up at her.
“That there’s really a little human growing inside me.”
A soft laugh escaped her.
“We made a person.”
The amusement in her voice made something warm flicker through Jongho’s expression.
Y/n’s hand remained over the small bump protectively.
“I’m so happy our baby survived.”
Jongho’s expression softened immediately. His hand covered hers carefully.
“I am too.”
Then quieter. “But you surviving mattered more to me.”
Y/n looked up at him immediately.
Jongho’s thumb brushed gently across her hand resting over their child.
“Though,” he added softly, “I am happy there is already a little fighter in there.”
Y/n smiled faintly. “You think so?”
His gaze lingered on her stomach.
Then softened strangely. “Yes.”
“Why?”
A small smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.
“I think it’s a girl.”
Y/n blinked. “What?”
“It’s just a feeling.”
She stared at him for a moment before laughing softly.
“You sound absurdly confident for someone guessing.”
“I’m rarely wrong.”
“That is objectively untrue. I’ve beaten you at chess seventeen times.”
“Nineteen,” he corrected automatically.
Y/n grinned immediately. Then paused.
“Nineteen?”
Jongho realized his mistake too late.
Her grin widened triumphantly. “You counted.”
He looked away slightly.
Y/n laughed harder. “I cannot believe you counted—”
Jongho kissed her suddenly.
Probably to stop her talking.
It worked.
When he pulled away again, she still looked far too pleased with herself.
A knock interrupted them.
Before either answered, the door opened. All seven entered.
And immediately filled the room with noise.
Wooyoung pointed instantly at them. “You were kissing.”
Y/n nearly choked.
Hongjoong looked deeply entertained already.
“We interrupted something.”
“Leave,” Jongho said flatly.
“No,” Mingi replied immediately.
San stepped forward holding something behind his back while Yeosang smiled faintly near the doorway.
“We actually came for the queen.”
Y/n blinked in surprise. “Me?”
Yunho nodded enthusiastically. “You’ve been trapped in this room forever.”
“Because she almost died,” Jongho replied coldly.
“Exactly,” Wooyoung said brightly. “Which means she deserves a reward for surviving.”
Y/n laughed softly. Then San finally revealed what he had been hiding.
Flowers.
Her breath caught immediately.
Small pale blossoms tied carefully together with ribbon.
Flowers from home. Realizing it made her chest ache instantly.
“How did you—”
Hongjoong smiled lightly. “Trade routes.”
“We may have threatened several merchants,” Wooyoung added proudly.
“That was mostly Mingi,” Yunho corrected.
Mingi looked unapologetic.
Y/n stared at the flowers for another second before looking back at them with visibly emotional eyes.
“You idiots,” she whispered softly.
“We know,” Seonghwa said warmly.
Then Yeosang stepped forward slightly.
“We thought perhaps Her Majesty would like a small walk in the gardens.”
Jongho’s expression darkened immediately.
Absolutely not.
Y/n looked at him instantly. And pouted.
The seven men immediately pretended not to notice.
Jongho sighed slowly. Already defeated.
The seven noticed immediately.
Wooyoung grinned. “That sounded dangerously close to agreement.”
“It was not.”
“It absolutely was,” Yunho replied.
Y/n looked between them with barely concealed amusement before turning back toward Jongho with her most innocent expression.
“Please?”
Jongho stared at her.
“You are not walking far.”
Victory lit up her face instantly. And suddenly every man in the room understood exactly how the king kept losing arguments to his wife.
“She wins too easily,” Mingi muttered quietly to San.
“Every time,” San agreed.
The afternoon air was warm.
Not overly hot yet, but carrying the softness of approaching summer through the palace gardens. Birds chirped somewhere deeper within the trees while sunlight spilled gold across the stone paths beneath their feet.
Y/n walked slowly. Partially because Jongho insisted on it. Mostly because the seven men around her behaved as though she might collapse if she breathed too quickly.
“I can walk by myself,” she complained lightly after Yunho offered his arm for the third time.
“Yes, but His Majesty threatened us before leaving.”
Y/n looked toward Hongjoong immediately. “He did not.”
“He absolutely did,” Wooyoung answered. “‘If she trips over a rock, I will bury all of you beneath it.’”
“That sounds dramatic even for him,” Y/n muttered.
“It wasn’t dramatic,” Mingi corrected. “It sounded genuine.”
Y/n laughed softly. The sound immediately eased something in the atmosphere around them.
Because for weeks now, everyone had been afraid.
Afraid she would stop breathing again.
Afraid she would not wake up.
Even now, she could still feel it sometimes in the way Jongho watched her when he thought she wasn’t noticing.
As if he still needed visual proof she remained alive.
The thought made her chest ache softly.
“We’re almost there,” Yeosang said gently from beside her.
Y/n looked up.
Then stopped walking entirely.
The center of the garden had changed.
Beautifully.
A wide section near the fountains had been cleared and redesigned completely, soft stone paths weaving carefully between flowerbeds she recognized immediately.
Her breath caught. “No way…”
Small green buds had begun blooming across the garden beds, delicate stems swaying lightly in the breeze.
Flowers from her homeland.
Not fully bloomed yet.
But unmistakable.
Y/n stepped closer slowly, emotion rising unexpectedly fast in her chest as she stared at them.
“How…”
“We found gardeners familiar with the climate,” Seonghwa explained quietly.
“And imported seeds,” Hongjoong added.
“That took forever,” Wooyoung complained.
“Mingi almost threatened another merchant.”
“I did threaten another merchant.”
Y/n laughed breathlessly through the tears suddenly stinging her eyes.
Because they remembered.
All of them.
The flowers were arranged carefully around a large stone table positioned beneath the shade of a tree.
Her eyes widened immediately.
A chess table.
Beautifully carved into pale stone, polished pieces already resting in place as though waiting for players.
Y/n turned slowly.
Toward Jongho.
He looked embarrassed. Which almost never happened.
His hand rubbed awkwardly against the back of his neck before he looked slightly away.
“I thought,” he began quietly, “that perhaps during summer…”
The others immediately went silent.
Jongho cleared his throat slightly. “We could play chess here.”
Y/n stared at him.
Then at the table.
Then back at him.
And suddenly her chest felt so painfully full she thought she might burst from it.
Because this man, this terrifying king feared across kingdoms, had built her a garden from home.
And a chess table.
Just so she would smile.
“Oh my god.”
Before Jongho could react properly, Y/n threw herself at him.
He barely caught her before she collided fully into his chest.
“Y/n— careful—”
She kissed him before he could finish speaking.
Hard enough that he nearly lost balance entirely.
The seven immediately broke into laughter.
“Your Majesty is under attack again,” Wooyoung announced dramatically.
“She’s definitely his wife,” Mingi muttered.
Y/n barely heard them.
She kissed Jongho again, laughing breathlessly against his lips while happiness practically radiated from her entire body.
“You made this for me?”
Jongho’s hands settled instinctively around her waist.
“Yes.”
“All of this?”
“Yes.”
Y/n looked genuinely overwhelmed now.
“You ridiculous man.”
Something soft flickered across Jongho’s face as he looked at her.
Then he pulled her gently back against him, wrapping both arms around her carefully from behind while she continued staring at the flowers with shining eyes.
The seven fell quieter watching them.
Fondness settling openly across their expressions.
Because none of them had ever seen Jongho like this before.
This soft.
This openly in love.
Jongho lowered his head slightly toward Y/n’s ear.
And quietly enough that only she could hear…“I love you.”
The words wrapped around her more warmly than the sunlight itself.
Y/n closed her eyes briefly, smiling so brightly it almost hurt.
Then leaned back further into his arms.
Completely happy.
Epilogue
Three and a half years later.
The garden had fully bloomed.
Sometimes Y/n still stopped in the middle of the pathways just to look at it properly, still unable to fully believe that something once built from homesickness and longing had become one of the places she loved most in the world.
Flowers from her homeland stretched across the gardens in soft waves of color now, climbing carefully along the stone paths and surrounding the chess table beneath the large tree at the center.
Their tree, Wooyoung called it dramatically.
Mostly because he insisted every important family needed a dramatic symbolic tree.
Y/n sat at the chess table now with a sleeping baby boy curled quietly against her chest, wrapped carefully in soft blankets while sunlight warmed the top of his dark hair.
Her son had Jongho’s eyes.
That fact alone nearly destroyed her every time she looked at him.
A small shriek of excitement suddenly echoed through the garden.
“Mama! LOOK!”
Y/n looked up immediately.
Their daughter stood several steps away near the flowers, holding Ara’s hand while Seonghwa crouched beside her patiently.
At three years old, she already had entirely too much personality.
And unfortunately, most of it came from both of her parents.
“There’s another one!” she announced dramatically, pointing at a tiny insect crawling slowly across a leaf.
Ara laughed softly beside her. “That one is harmless.”
Their daughter gasped quietly. “He’s tiny.”
“He’s very brave for someone tiny,” Seonghwa said seriously.
The little girl nodded immediately, taking this information with complete sincerity.
Y/n smiled helplessly.
“She likes bugs entirely too much,” Hongjoong said from the opposite side of the chess table.
Y/n glanced toward him with amusement.
Hongjoong moved one of the chess pieces lazily before leaning back slightly in his chair.
“To be fair,” he continued thoughtfully, “she gets that from Mingi.”
“That explains a lot actually.”
Hongjoong snorted softly.
The breeze shifted gently through the garden, carrying the scent of flowers and freshly cut grass while the castle remained unusually peaceful around them.
Peaceful.
The word still felt strange sometimes.
Not because peace itself was unfamiliar anymore.
But because happiness had once felt impossible too.
Hongjoong studied her quietly for a moment before shaking his head lightly.
“You know,” he said, “I truly never thought this marriage would end like this.”
Y/n raised a brow slightly. “That sounds concerning.”
“I mean it positively.”
“Wonderful recovery.”
Hongjoong ignored that. “When we first heard about the arrangement, we thought Jongho would tolerate it at best.” His lips twitched slightly. “Instead he ended up painfully in love.”
Y/n grinned immediately.
“Painfully?”
“He’s unbearable.”
“That is true,” she admitted easily.
Hongjoong laughed softly. “But honestly,” he added quieter now, his gaze drifting briefly toward their daughter laughing beside Seonghwa, “I didn’t expect any of us to gain another friend from it either.”
Something warm settled in Y/n’s chest at that.
Because somewhere along the way, the seven had become family too.
Loud.
Chaotic.
Occasionally deeply irritating.
But family nonetheless.
The baby boy stirred softly against her chest then suddenly turned his head.
His small face lit up instantly.
And before Y/n even looked, she already knew.
Tiny hands reached outward immediately. “Da!”
Y/n laughed softly. “You always know when your father appears.”
Hongjoong groaned quietly. “Unfortunately, so do we.”
Y/n looked up.
And there he was.
Jongho crossed the garden toward them, dressed more casually than he would have years ago, though the quiet authority surrounding him remained impossible to miss.
Only now there was warmth beneath it.
Especially when his gaze found her.
His expression softened immediately.
Still.
Even after years.
It still happened every single time.
Y/n’s chest tightened softly at the sight of him.
Jongho stopped beside her first, leaning down automatically to kiss her gently before even acknowledging anyone else.
Hongjoong looked deeply offended.
“You used to greet people normally.”
“No, he didn’t,” Y/n replied.
Jongho ignored both of them entirely.
His attention shifted toward the baby already reaching desperately for him now.
Jongho smiled faintly before carefully lifting their son into his arms.
The baby immediately settled happily against his father’s chest.
Traitor.
“Were you gossiping about me?” Jongho asked calmly while looking toward Hongjoong.
“Yes,” Hongjoong answered immediately.
“Extensively,” Y/n added helpfully.
Jongho sighed softly as if deeply burdened.
The others entered the garden shortly afterward.
Which immediately increased the noise level by at least three times.
Mingi barely had time to fully step into the garden before a tiny blur launched toward him dramatically.
“Mingi!”
Their daughter wrapped herself around his leg enthusiastically.
Mingi grinned instantly. “There’s my favorite tiny person.”
Jongho narrowed his eyes immediately.
Y/n hid her laughter badly.
Their daughter looked up at Mingi with visibly pink cheeks..
“Mingi,” the little girl said very seriously, “did you know there are green insects AND blue insects?”
“Impossible.”
“It’s true!”
Mingi crouched dramatically in front of her while she continued rambling excitedly about bugs, flowers, and apparently a worm she had named yesterday.
The entire time, she looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky.
Y/n pressed her lips together immediately.
Because if she laughed too hard Jongho might actually start a diplomatic incident.
Jongho stared at Mingi.
Mingi slowly looked up.
Then blinked.
“…why are you looking at me like that?”
“Our daughter is blushing.”
The entire garden went silent.
Then exploded.
Wooyoung nearly fell into the grass laughing. Hongjoong buried his face in one hand. Yunho outright wheezed.
Mingi looked horrified. “She’s THREE.”
“She is blushing.”
“She likes bugs!”
“She likes YOU.”
Mingi looked genuinely panicked now while their daughter blinked in confusion at all the yelling.
Y/n finally lost control and started laughing openly.
Even Seonghwa looked seconds away from laughing himself.
“Mingi,” San said helpfully, “I fear His Majesty may challenge you to a duel.”
“I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING.”
Their daughter tugged on Mingi’s sleeve innocently. “What’s a duel?”
“Nothing,” Mingi answered immediately.
“Something,” Wooyoung corrected through tears of laughter.
Jongho continued glaring.
As if Mingi himself had personally orchestrated this betrayal.
Y/n laughed so hard tears gathered in her eyes.
And when she looked toward Jongho again, he was trying not to smile too.
Failing slightly.
And suddenly the sight of all of them together hit her all at once.
The garden. The flowers.Their children. The warmth around her.
This family they somehow built from something that once felt terrifying.
She had walked into this kingdom expecting loneliness.
Instead she found home.
That night, the palace felt quiet again.
Y/n rested comfortably against Jongho in bed while warm candlelight flickered across the room around them.
One of his arms wrapped securely around her waist while her head rested against his chest, listening quietly to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her ear.
Their son finally slept.
Their daughter had exhausted herself after attempting to bring three beetles into dinner.
It had been a long day.
A happy one.
Jongho’s fingers traced absentminded patterns along her side.
“When I see you with them…”
Y/n looked up slightly.
“With the children,” he continued softly, “I start thinking.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
A quiet laugh rumbled beneath her cheek.
“I think about having more.”
Y/n immediately burst into laughter.
Jongho looked mildly offended.
“You don’t sound supportive.”
“You just enjoy making them.”
“That is not true.”
She looked up at him knowingly.
Jongho stared back for exactly two seconds before sighing.
“…that is only a plus point.”
Y/n laughed harder.
Then he pulled her closer suddenly, kissing her softly until her laughter melted into warmth instead.
“I love you,” he murmured quietly against her lips.
The words still affected her every single time.
“I love you too.”
Jongho kissed her again.
Slower this time.
Longer.
And when his hand settled carefully against her waist while he smiled softly against her mouth, Y/n already knew exactly where this conversation was heading.
Honestly.
She wasn’t complaining.
The candles burned lower.
The garden outside remained quiet beneath the moonlight.
And somewhere between laughter, kisses, and whispered I love yous, their family began growing once more.
Pairing: Mafia Jongho x reader
Word Count: 2K
Genre: Mafia Romance
Warnings: MDNI, 18+, Criminal Activities,
He's dangerous but is he too dangerous?
The diner never closed, it just dimmed as the crowds left and the late-night shift began. After 1 a.m., the overhead fluorescents hummed softer, like they were too exhausted to continue exposing things. The night crowd thinned to truckers, insomniacs, and men who didn’t want to go home yet, or ever.
He came in at 12:45, always within five minutes of that time and always alone. To begin with it was once or twice a week, then it became every second day but for the last month it had been every single morning. You noticed, your livelihood depends on you noticing patterns, that's how you survived each shift unscathed. You knew who liked extra sugar, who left without paying, who stared too long, who would get handsy if you got too close.
But he didn’t stare, he assessed.
The bell above the door rang once. He stepped in, rain sliding off the shoulders of his expensive looking black coat. He didn't rush, he never rushed, He seemed to be the kind of man who made the room adjust to him.
Jongho, he gave you his name once after he had been your only patron one night months ago, but you didn’t know his last name. He never offered it. He took the booth in the back corner back to the wall with a clear view of the door, the bathroom hallway, the street through the rain-streaked windows. The first time he’d sat there, you thought he just liked privacy, you had figured out after a few nights that he was different to everyone else in the room, you knew it wasn't just for privacy.
You grabbed the coffee pot and crossed the faded linoleum floor. “Rough night?” you asked lightly, sliding seamlessly into your role.
He looked up at you. His eyes were darker tonight. Not tired more like calculated. Like something had been decided. “They usually are.” His voice wasn’t loud and it didn’t need to be, it had weight to it like it was used to being obeyed.
You poured his coffee, the plain white mug looking smaller than average in his large hands. Black with no sugar. There was a faint mark near his knuckles. A bruise blooming under the skin and a split that looked like it had been clean but was still fresh. You didn’t ask, you were never going to ask.
Outside, across the street, the same black sedan idled under the flickering streetlamp. You asked him once, weeks ago, if he had friends waiting. He’d replied, “I don’t wait alone.” That was all no elaboration and no offer of anything more than simple fact.
You learned the rules about Jongho quickly. He never touched you without reason, never flirted cheaply and never asked personal questions unless you offered something first.
But he always listened memorizing the information you gave him men who actually listened were dangerous but also far too attractive.
One night, long after Jongho had come in, a drunk wandered in and got loud, he was a sloppy drunk and rude to boot, one of your least favorite combinations. When you handed him his plate he leaned into close moving to grab your wrist you flinched in anticipation.
Before you could step back, Jongho’s voice cut through the air. “Sit down.” He hadn’t raised it any louder than normal, but the drunk froze in place his hand still hanging in mid-air before obeying and sitting down in silence.
There was something in Jongho’s tone, something cold and final, that made the man obey without argument. You watched it happen, the shift within the room, the power without volume.
After the drunk left, nearly tripping over himself to get out the door, you returned to Jongho’s booth slowly. “You didn’t have to do that.” You smiled sweetly grateful for his protection but not wanting to seem weak or expectant.
“Yes,” he said calmly, maintaining eye contact. “I did.”
You studied him then. The precision in his posture. The way his fingers tapped once on the table, like a signal that had already been sent somewhere else. You swallowed. “Who are you?” you asked quietly.
He held your gaze for a long moment before finally conceding “Someone who doesn’t like seeing you disrespected.”
It wasn't an answer it was a deflection. But you felt heat crawl up your spine regardless.
He asked you out on the twenty-third night, you had been counting.
“Dinner,” he said simply, watching you over the rim of his coffee cup, both of you ignoring the hairline crack that was turning dark brown every time he raised it to his lips. “Somewhere proper.”
You smiled coyly “And if I say no?”
His eyes didn’t flicker. “Then I’ll still come here tomorrow.” There was no pressure, he had no ego about it, it was just inevitability.
You, of course, said yes.
The restaurant he took you to was the kind of place you’d only ever seen through glass. Low golden toned lighting, burgundy velvet booths and crystal that caught candlelight like trapped fire. The pianist played something slow and aching the music swirling through the room like smoke. Your black dress now seemed too simple to be worn in a place like this, but Jongho had looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing he had seen in years.
You stepped inside on his arm and felt it immediately the power in the room shifted. Conversations dipped to near silence. A man at the bar straightened almost unconsciously. The hostess blinked once too many times before smiling too wide, like she was counting the taking before you had even been seated.
“Mr. Choi,” the manager said, hurrying forward to shake his hand a little to enthusiastically.
You felt it then, no longer was it just a suspicion that sat in the back of your mind. It was now confirmation of what you had suspected for longer than you wanted to admit. Jongho’s hand remained at the small of your back. It was steady even slightly possessive but not gripping. Like he was aware of exactly how much pressure he applied.
“You’re not in logistics, are you?” you said once you were seated.
“No.” The honesty startled you more than a lie would have. The waiter approached nervously. Jongho ordered without looking at the menu. Ordered for you too, but paused just long enough to murmur, “Unless you’d prefer something else.”
You didn’t protest, you let him choose for you.
“You have a lot of power,” you said after the wine arrived sipping it slowly.
His gaze met yours over the candle. “Power is a perception,” he replied almost too casually.
“That’s not a denial.” You smiled over the top of your wine glass.
“No.” Again he spoke as though it could have been the weather you had asked about.
The pianist missed a note, and you didn’t know how you heard it, but you did. “Jongho, are people afraid of you?” you asked softly.
He paused. “Yes.”
Your heart kicked once against your ribs. “And should I be?”
His fingers brushed the stem of his glass. Slow and thoughtful. “That depends.”
Your breath hitched. “On what?”
“On whether you think I would ever let harm come to you.” The way he said it wasn’t romantic, not truly, it was territorial.
You studied him more carefully now. The tailored suit, the expensive watch and cologne, the faint scar just beneath his ear you hadn’t noticed until now. “I saw your hand the other night,” you said quietly. “It was bleeding.”
He didn’t look down at it. “It happens.” Again, the casualness should have made you pause but it didn't.
“That’s not normal.” You bit your lower lip lightly, but it wasn't from nerves.
“It is for me.” There it was, he cracked the door open just enough for you to see darkness inside. You should have felt fear. Instead, you felt something hotter something dangerous and electric.
Because through all of it through the weight in the room, through the tension coiled beneath his stillness he had never once looked at you like you were disposable. He looked at you with a soft reverence that made your whole-body hum.
After dinner, rain had started again. He walked you outside, umbrella untouched in his hand. He let the rain fall on him instead, angling it over you. Across the street, a car engine turned over and then went silent, waiting for him to give his orders.
“You knew,” he said quietly, once you were alone on the sidewalk. “From the beginning.”
“I suspected.” Your words careful but honest.
“And you still came tonight.” The slight hint of surprise that made its way into his tone made you smile.
You stepped closer, heels clicking softly against wet pavement. “You’ve never lied to me,” you said. “You just don’t answer.”
There was a faint shift in his expression that looked a lot like approval. “You don’t scare easily,” he murmured. “You don’t push.”
You were silent for a moment. “You could ruin me,” you said softly. Not accusingly more stating a fact.
His jaw tightened—not in anger, but restraint. “I could ruin a lot of things in this world.” The rain slid down his temple, over his cheekbone. He looked carved from shadow and light. “But I wouldn’t ruin you.”
It wasn’t a sweet nothing to give you false hope it was an absolute.
Your pulse pounded in your throat as you reached up, fingers brushing rain from his collar. “Why not?” you asked your voice dropping to a whisper.
For the first time since you’d known him, something flickered in his eyes. It wasn't weakness it was something deeper something far more dangerous. “Because” he said quietly, stepping closer until you felt the heat of him through your dress, “I don’t destroy what I intend to keep.”
The world narrowed around you and the traffic noise blurred. Your hand flattened against his chest. His heartbeat was steady. Controlled. Unlike yours. “Then what do you intend?” you whispered letting the heat building inside you fill your words.
His hand came to your waist slowly, giving you time to step back but you didn’t. His thumb pressed lightly into your hip, grounding you in place. “I intend,” he murmured near your ear, voice low enough that it felt like it belonged to the rain, “to see how far you’re willing to step into my world… before you ask me to step into yours.”
Your breath caught your whole body aching for him to be closer to you. “You won’t tell me what you do?” You murmured turning your head towards him slightly.
“No.” His breath stroked your cheek.
“You won’t promise it’s clean?” you breathed.
“It isn’t.” The honesty burned like fire.
“But you’ll protect me?” The words came out almost inaudibly, but you knew he would hear them.
His gaze locked onto yours. “With everything I have.”
A car door shut somewhere behind him. You didn’t look. Because in that moment, with the city bleeding neon around you and his hand firm and hot at your waist, you understood something simple and terrifying. Jongho wasn’t mysterious because he had secrets, he was mysterious because he had control. Worse still was you weren’t afraid of him.
You leaned up first. His kiss was nothing like the careful restraint he showed in public. It was slow, intentional and possessive in a way that made your knees weaken. He didn't rush he claimed your lips for himself. His hand tightened slightly at your waist, pulling you flush against him, shielding you from the rain, from the world.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. “If you ever want out,” he said quietly, breath warm against your skin, “you say it once. I won’t ask twice.”
“And if I don’t?” You whispered as sultrily as you could
His thumb traced a slow line along your side, just enough to make your pulse stutter. “Then you stay,” he said softly, “and you learn exactly what it means to be chosen by a man like me.”
The sedan’s headlights flicked on. He stepped back just enough to open your car door. You hesitated only a second before getting in. Because some women fall for safe men, and some women look into the darkness and decide they can see just fine.
a/n: Thank you so much for reading, apparently I am on a mafia/crime boss bender again but eh. Your love and support is deeply appreciated and I love you all to bits xx
you kind of wished he had never found out about it. not really, but now it certainly seems he likes to use it as leverage against you.
your boyfriend was gentle in all the ways that count. soft touches that made you feel like precious art. sweet words of encouragement that made you feel seen. but sometimes you feel like he might be too gentle with you.
the only times he ever let that soft-handed mask down were when he was fucking you.
and the first time he ever found out about your little infatuation, he seemed to have grown a little more comfortable with roughing it up a little.
“oh god… oh baby. fuck, you feel so good.” on your stomach, face pressed into the sheets, san’s face nudged in the tight space where your neck meets your shoulder. his arms caged either side of your head, resting his forearms next to your ears.
his chest was glued to your back, your spine digging into his stomach. bare and hot and wet, your bodies pressed against each other without an inch of space to speak for. your entire body shivered when he forced himself deeper into you, his curved, thick cock splitting your cunt open.
this position had him so deep, so invasive, so full. his hips rolled against the flesh of your ass, san’s voice dipping low in needy moans when you squeezed around him while he pulled his hips back, listening to the slick sound your pussy made, trying to keep him inside.
“pussy’s so warm today, baby.” he lets his mouth fall open against the shell of your ear, panting and groaning to make your brain melt. “making me feel so fucking crazy, you make me feel crazy, pretty.”
you forced your head out of the pillow when you felt his thrusts slow to a deep grind, pulling a ragged whine from your mouth. you pried your eyes open to watch as his arms moved around your head.
“turn, look at us.” he kisses below your ear, and drags his tongue up the side of your cheek. his right arm reaches and grabs his phone from the corner of the bed, holding it tight in his hand and scrolling and pressing buttons.
you forget he keeps a tall mirror against his bedroom wall, right next to the end of his bed. you can see the top halves of your melded bodies. his big, broad shoulders shadow your littler form under him. his soft, flushed face meeting your eyes in the reflection, his big, meaty arms flexing and twitching around your head every time he moved.
you watch to try and see what he was doing, and he punishes your nosiness with a sharp, deep thrust that makes your calf lock up.
“mind your business, babydoll.” he grumbles, then you feel it. his left arm curls around the front of your throat, tight. the muscles twitch and contract over your neck, just enough to limit your breathing. snug, warm and secure around the front of your throat.
he feels you tighten around his cock, and it makes his skin prickle. “ooh, fuck…” he groans and you feel his voice vibrate against your back. you forced your eyes up and you can see his phone recording your reflection in the mirror. catching the fucked out look on your face, his thick arm wrapped around your throat in an owning headlock.
his mouth spreads into a sly grin when your eyes roll when he pulls back his hips and then sinks his cock back into you so slowly, so smoothly, your legs jerk under him to try and escape the feeling.
“my soft little slut…” san leans down to whisper in your ear, the flash of his camera moving with each thrust. he licks the tears that pool at the corner of your eyes before he drags his head back up to watch you both in the mirror.
“look at you go, baby.” he praises around a heated smile. “drooling all over my arm like some kind of puppy. does that feel good? hm?”
you whimper out an incoherent agreement, and he giggles softly, littering the nape of your neck with soft kisses. he adjusts his hips to drag against that deeper, sweeter spot, that makes you still and lightly sink your teeth into his arm.
he keeps that meaner pace, deep heavy strokes in your guts that you can do nothing but lie under his body and take. his arm around your neck made clouds swim around in your brain. he tightens the hold, and you squeal loudly, barely catching the way he zooms in with his phone to better catch the pretty look on your face.
your cheeks squished by his muscles, your eyes desperate and heavy-lidded. he thought you looked so cute, and who would’ve thought that all he had to do to get you this needy was to put you in a headlock.
san fucks you greedily, the curve of him perfectly hitting that spot that turned your mind off. his voice egged you on, his low moans, and his pretty heavy breaths. groaning ’mhms’ of approval with every thrust into you as if he was grading the feel of your cunt around him. with every stroke, you only seemed to get even wetter, and the proof was the sticky web of your slick that clung to his base.
“mm, i love fucking my baby, slow… and stupid.” he attaches his lips to the pulse point on your neck, sucking and running his tongue over the sensitive spot of skin. “jus wanna fuck you so deep it hurts.”
he’s in your ear, talking to you and only you. all the while his phone catches every moment, every thrust and every moan.
his lower stomach repeatedly brushes against your back, his cock stirring up your insides at the most, torturous and delicate pace. the slow smack of flesh, the sticky hollow sound of your cunt swallowing all of him.
you feel his knees brace against either side of your hips again, adjusting his posture a little. his arm around your throat tightens to your near limit, his head nudges against your neck, his lips whispering against your cheek.
this way he uses your neck as leverage to anchor is body to allow him to fuck his cock into you a little faster, a little rougher.
“yeah, baby, yeah. take all of me. all of me.” san’s voice drops into a breathy purr, pressing his lips directly against your ear, the soft skin tickling you. “givin this pussy a workout hm?”
you groan and kick your feet, and he laughs at you as hand from the arm he’s got your neck trapped in buries itself in your tangled hair and yanks your head to the side so you’re fully facing the mirror, your ear resting below his jaw.
“you like to be lazy. you like to lie here— fuck… lie here and take dick, helpless and limp. let sannie do all the work huh, princess? let this pussy do all the work for you?”
he turns his head and your eyes catch in the mirror. his eyes are lidded, competent and heated. yours are foggy, tear-glazed, spent. he smiles at your expression and growls under his breath when you clench around his dick again.
his fingers scrape against your scalp with every heavy stroke of his hips, his pretty grunts and moans making your belly twist into swirls.
your hands grasp at the sheets, your cries coming out choked and breathy then more san fucked you, and he seemingly forgot that you needed to breathe until you tapped on his bicep to tell him to let up.
he does immediately, loosening the hold on your throat. you gasp and choke, but he doesn’t stop moving his hips, fucking you slow and deep while you regain your breath.
“aww, ‘m sorry babydoll.” he kisses your temple and you could feel him giggle against your skin. his voice lowers to that brain ticking whisper and you feel your air stolen from you again.
“bet you would’ve looked so pretty passed out on my cock.” he finally sets down his phone and takes his now free hand and trails it down your body, running along the side of your waist, his hips never stopping that deep, languid push and pull.
“looking all soft and sleepy.” his hand snakes between your body and the bed and finds your clit with his coarse fingertips. you gasp and squirm under him, your body shaking as a plea for mercy. san only laughs, circling upwards against the sensitive nerves while he splits your pussy open, over and over and over again.
“think i could still make you cum in your sleep princess?” he whispers against your throat and you feel as his arm tightens its hold around your throat once again. you feel the bed start to shake and your cunt start to burn with pleasure as he picks up the pace of his thrusts, filling you long and deep at just the right angle.
“mmhm, soak my cock baby.” he growls under a moan, letting his tongue fall from his mouth and tasting the flushed skin on your throat. “make it smell like you.”
he bites his bottom lip and his eyebrows furrow, his cock pounding into you so full he just might had been close to fucking your cervix.
his fingers on your clit continue to move at that dragging, spherical pattern that helps that pressure build slowly. stroke my stroke, praise by praise. you melt under his body while he uses you as he sees fit. your pussy sucks him in everytime he draws back, your pretty little moans make san’s head spin.
“gonna fuck myself to that video everynight while im on tour.” he promises against your skin, your orgasm dangerously close to sweeping you onto the floor. he rolls his hips with every thrust, forcing his fat tip to press against your gspot.
“eee..every n-night..?” you whimper deliriously, his cock effectively having cut off all cognitive function, a stupid smile spread across your face.
he laughs and kisses your shoulder as he rolls his hips a little harder. “mhm, every night baby. i'll send you some videos so this pussy-” he thrusts hard this time, as if acknowledging her himself. “-doesn't miss me too much. want you to remember how good i make you feel while i'm gone.”
you shake violently when his tip nudges that spot just right, and right at that moment you cum on the spot. your limbs jerk and twitch and once san’s felt you cumming he eases his hips into a faster rut, pounding your pussy through your orgasm, fucking you through it.
“there we go, there we go. let it take you baby, keep cumming, keep cumming for me.” he pinches your clit and teases it with gentle brushes while he mounts you on his mattress.
his arm is covered in your drool, the red indentations of your bite marks inflamed on his skin. san looks back at you in the mirror, and you’re too out of it to notice as he pulls out his phone again and starts to record the reflection.
your eyes are shut and your brows are furrowed in bliss, lips parted in pathetic whines, your cheek resting against his bicep. he keeps his eyes on the mirror as your face twists in overstimulation when he starts to grind his cock deep into you.
his muscles flex, and he can feel the strain in his wrist from continually holding the camera up to capture you two. your shoulder twitches every time he bottoms out into your pussy, and your eyelids flutter every time he presses his palm against your lower stomach. he catches every change in expression, every twitch of your body, every lilt in your moans.
he always misses you so bad when hes away, so he always makes sure he fucks you so unbelievably well that you could probably do without him for at least a few days.
until you’re sore, or your stomach burns, or you physically can’t cum anymore. and he’ll be so methodic, so thorough, so gentle. anything to get you satiated for the first few days in his absence.
he's gotta work you out of his system somehow anyway, or else he'll be a horny, delirious wreck on tour.
