A sheltered girl escapes her controlling family and finds refuge with eight wary boys in a quiet village. Though two offer kindness, the rest remain guarded due to past betrayal.
As she struggles to adapt to a simple life, her inexperience causes tension, leaving her desperate to prove she belongs—while their trust hangs by a thread.
Just as something soft begins to grow between them, the past comes crashing back in, dragging secrets and expectations with it. Misunderstandings cut deep, leaving words unsaid and hearts unguarded.
And when everything finally falls apart, one question lingers—was it love they lost, or trust they never truly had to begin with?
❛ ━━━━━━･❪skz❫･━━━━━━ ❜
“You’re not listening.”
Your father’s voice cut cleanly through the silence, sharp as the knife resting beside his plate.
You didn’t look up. “I am.”
“Then repeat what I said.”
Your grip tightened around your fork until your knuckles turned white.
Across from you, your mother sighed, already irritated, her perfectly manicured fingers tapping against the edge of her wine glass.
“Don’t make this difficult. We’re only asking what’s best for you.”
Best.
That word had always sounded like a threat wrapped in silk.
“You’ll attend the meeting next week,” your father continued, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You’ll be introduced properly this time. No excuses.”
“I said I don’t want to.”
The words slipped out before you could stop them, hanging in the air like smoke.
Silence. Heavy.
Your father set his glass down slowly, the soft clink echoing louder than it should have. “You don’t want to?”
Your heart pounded against your ribs, but something in you—something that had been building for years, cracking under the weight of endless expectations—finally pushed back.
“I don’t want to live like this.”
Your mother laughed, but there was no humor in it, only disbelief and thinly veiled annoyance. “Like what? Comfortable? Provided for? Everything handed to you on a silver platter?”
“Controlled,” you shot back, the word tasting bitter but freeing on your tongue.
The word landed harder than you expected.
Your father’s expression changed instantly. Cold. Final. Like a door slamming shut.
“You are not in a position to complain,” he said, each word deliberate and heavy with warning. “Everything you have is because of us.”
“And everything I am isn’t mine,” you shot back, voice trembling but steady enough to hold.
That did it.
The chair scraped loudly as he stood, towering over the table. “Enough.”
Your body went rigid, every muscle locking in place.
“You will follow what we planned,” he said, each word deliberate. “Or you will learn what it means to lose it.”
Lose it.
The house. The money. The life. The cage.
That night, you didn’t cry.
You packed.
Quietly. Efficiently.
Not the designer bags or the expensive luggage that screamed privilege.
Just practical clothes you could move in and the stack of cash you had withdrawn weeks ago—just in case you ever found the courage to actually leave.
You stared at your credit cards for a long moment, the sleek plastic feeling heavier than it should.
Then left them on the desk, right beside your phone.
Tracking devices disguised as privilege.
You didn’t want anything that could lead them back to you.
By the time the sun rose—
You were gone.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
The bus ride felt unreal, like stepping into someone else’s dream.
Each mile put more distance between you and everything you had ever known, the familiar weight of control slowly lifting from your shoulders.
Tall buildings faded into smaller ones, then into scattered houses.
Concrete gave way to open land, endless fields rolling under a wide sky.
Noise dissolved into quiet, the constant hum of the city replaced by the low rumble of the engine and the occasional chirp of birds outside.
By the time you stepped off at the last stop, the air felt unfamiliar in your lungs.
Cleaner.
Fresher.
But thinner somehow.
Like you didn’t quite belong in it yet.
The bus pulled away in a cloud of dust, leaving you alone on the side of a narrow road.
A small waiting shed stood nearby, paint slightly chipped, surrounded by fields that stretched endlessly toward the horizon.
No guards. No cameras. No expectations.
Just…Nothing.
Your chest tightened with a sudden wave of uncertainty.
For a second—you almost turned back, the old fear whispering that this was a mistake.
“Miss?”
You froze.
Slowly, you turned.
Two boys stood a few feet away.
One had soft blonde hair, his expression open and warm in a way that immediately made your guard falter just a little. The other stood beside him, observant but calm, his gaze scanning you carefully, taking in your simple bag and tired posture.
“You just got off that bus, right?” the blonde one asked gently, his voice carrying a kind lilt.
You nodded, instinctively clutching your bag tighter against your side.
“Do you… have somewhere to go?” the other asked, his tone polite but direct.
You hesitated, the truth sitting heavy on your tongue.
“No.”
They exchanged a quick look.
Silent.
A decision passing between them without words.
“I’m Felix,” the blonde said, offering a small, reassuring smile. “And this is Jeongin.”
Jeongin gave a slight nod, his eyes still cautious but not unkind. “There aren’t a lot of places around here. Not ones you can just walk into without any plans.”
You let out a quiet breath, the weight of your situation pressing down again. “I figured that out too late.”
Felix scratched the back of his neck, glancing at Jeongin before looking back at you with gentle concern.
“You can stay with us for now.”
Your head snapped up. “What?”
“Just until you figure things out,” he added quickly, hands raised in a placating gesture. “We couldn’t just leave you here all alone.”
You frowned, suspicion flickering through you. “You don’t even know me.”
Jeongin shrugged lightly, though his stance remained steady. “We know enough.”
“That you’re alone,” Felix said softly, his eyes meeting yours with quiet understanding.
That shouldn’t have hit as hard as it did, but it did—right in the center of your chest.
You looked away first, biting the inside of your cheek.
Every instinct screamed at you to refuse, to keep running.
But you had nowhere else to go, and the fields around you suddenly felt too vast and empty.
“…Just for a bit,” you said finally, voice barely above a whisper.
Felix smiled, bright and genuine.
Jeongin nodded, satisfied.
And just like that—
You followed them down the quiet path.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
Their house came into view after a short walk through the winding village road.
It wasn’t big.
Not impressive or luxurious in any way.
But it felt… alive.
Shoes scattered by the door. Open windows letting in the breeze. The faint sound of music playing somewhere inside, mixed with distant voices and laughter.
Felix stepped in first, calling out cheerfully, “We’re back!”
The noise inside stopped abruptly.
Footsteps approached quickly.
You barely had time to brace yourself before they appeared.
One by one.
Eyes landing on you.
Assessing.
Questioning.
Unwelcoming—but not cruel.
Just… careful. Wary. Like strangers walking into their safe space.
“…Who is she?” one asked, arms already crossed over his chest, brow furrowed.
Felix didn’t hesitate. “She needed help.”
“That’s not an answer,” another replied, tone flat.
Jeongin stepped forward slightly, his voice steady. “She doesn’t have anywhere to stay.”
A pause stretched out, thick with tension.
Then another voice, sharper—“So you brought her here? Just like that?”
Your fingers curled at your sides, tension coiling in your stomach.
“I can leave,” you said quickly, already taking a small step back. “I didn’t mean to—”
“No,” Felix cut in, firmer than before, his hand gently touching your arm to stop you.
It surprised everyone. Even you.
“She’s staying,” he said, his usual softness edged with resolve.
The room went still.
One of them—tall, serious—exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair in clear frustration. “You don’t know anything about her.”
Another spoke, quieter but colder, his eyes narrowing slightly. “People don’t just show up here with no story. No explanation.”
They weren’t wrong.
Your chest tightened, the weight of their suspicion pressing against you.
Jeongin’s voice softened, but there was an edge of protectiveness to it. “Not everyone has bad intentions.”
“Or maybe we’re just not stupid,” someone muttered under their breath, low but audible.
Silence stretched.
Uncomfortable.
Heavy.
You could feel every second of it pressing into your skin, making the air feel thicker.
Finally—
“…How long?” one asked, the question directed more at Felix than at you.
Felix didn’t look away from the group. “Until she figures things out.”
A long pause followed, filled with reluctant consideration.
Then a sigh.
“Fine.”
Not welcoming.
Not warm.
But not a outright refusal either.
“We’re watching you,” another added bluntly, his gaze lingering on you with clear caution.
You nodded slightly, swallowing the lump in your throat.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
The eight of them stood in the living room, the air thick with unspoken tension. The faint hum of the old ceiling fan did nothing to ease the stiffness that had settled over the group the moment you were shown to the small guest room at the end of the hallway. Felix and Jeongin had insisted on giving you some space to settle in, but the others weren’t ready to let the conversation drop.
As soon as the door clicked shut behind you, Chan crossed his arms, his usual calm leader demeanor cracking just enough to show the frustration underneath. “What the hell were you two thinking?”
Felix shifted his weight, blonde hair falling slightly over his eyes as he met Chan’s gaze without flinching. “She was alone at the bus stop. No plan, nothing. We couldn’t just leave her there.”
Jeongin nodded beside him, younger but steady. “It’s getting dark soon. The next bus won’t come until tomorrow afternoon. Where was she supposed to sleep? In the fields?”
Minho leaned against the wall, his sharp eyes narrowing. “So you bring her straight into our home?” His voice was low, controlled, but the edge was unmistakable. “We don’t know her. She could be anyone.”
Seungmin, sitting on the arm of the couch, let out a dry laugh that held no humor. “Exactly. People don’t just appear out of nowhere in a place like this without a reason. And you two decided to play heroes?”
Hyunjin paced a few steps, long fingers running through his hair. “We’ve talked about this. No outsiders. Not after what happened.”
The room grew heavier at the mention.
Two years ago, there had been nine of them.
Until she—the ninth—had quietly packed her things one night and left without a real goodbye. Later they found out she had been seeing someone else for months. The betrayal had cut deep, especially for the younger ones. Most of them had cried for days. Some had shut down completely, barely speaking for weeks. The rest had pieced themselves back together slowly, reinforcing the walls around their eight-person relationship with fierce protectiveness.
Chan exhaled slowly, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “We barely recovered from the last time. We can’t risk that again. Not when we finally feel stable.”
“We’re not asking you to date her,” Jeongin said quietly, but firmly. “We’re just giving her a roof for a couple of nights. She said she left a bad situation. She didn’t even want to tell us more than that.”
Felix stepped closer to the group, his voice soft but determined. “She looked scared, hyungs. Really scared. Like she was running from something heavy. I couldn’t ignore that. Neither could Innie.”
Minho’s jaw tightened. “And what if she’s lying? What if she’s here to take advantage? We worked too hard to build this life together—quiet, away from everything. Just us.”
Changbin, who had been listening with his arms folded, finally spoke up, his deep voice rumbling. “Hyung… they have a point though.” He glanced at Felix and Jeongin, then back at the older members. “It’s not like we have to be with her. She’s not moving in permanently. Just helping someone who’s clearly in trouble.”
Jisung, perched on the edge of the couch, nodded slowly, his usual playful energy tempered by thoughtfulness. “Felix and Jeongin are right. It’s just kindness. We don’t have to trust her with everything. We can keep our distance.”
Seungmin raised an eyebrow, still skeptical. “You’re serious?”
“I’m not saying we throw a welcome party,” Jisung replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “But kicking her out right now would make us the assholes. She can stay until she finds somewhere else. That’s all.”
Hyunjin stopped pacing, sighing as he dropped onto the couch beside Jisung. “Fine. But we watch her. Closely. No alone time with any of us until we know more. And the moment she gives us a reason to doubt her—”
“We’ll handle it,” Chan finished, his tone final but a touch less harsh. He looked at Felix and Jeongin, eyes softening just a fraction. “You two… your hearts are too big sometimes. We love you for it but we protect ourselves first. All of us. Together.”
Felix offered a small, grateful smile. “We know, hyung. We’re not trying to break anything. Just… help.”
Jeongin added quietly, “She can leave as soon as she’s ready. We promise.”
The group fell into a reluctant silence, the decision hanging in the air—cautious acceptance, layered with heavy layers of past hurt and fierce loyalty.
Outside the living room, in the quiet guest room, you sat on the edge of the narrow bed, unaware of the conversation unfolding about you. The voices were muffled, but the weight of their wariness still lingered like an invisible barrier.
For now, you were safe.
And that was more than you had dared to hope for when you stepped off that bus.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
The next morning arrived quietly, sunlight filtering through the thin curtains of the small guest room. You woke early, heart still racing from the unfamiliar silence—no maids knocking, no schedule waiting, no expectations pressing down on you.
You wandered the narrow village paths, the cool morning air carrying the scent of damp earth and distant cooking fires. The province felt even smaller in daylight—scattered houses, a modest market square with a few stalls, a tiny general store, and an old community bulletin board pinned with faded notices.
You asked around carefully, voice hesitant, about any room for rent or simple jobs available.
Most people were kind but practical. “Rooms are scarce this time of year,” an elderly woman at the market told you with a sympathetic tilt of her head. “And work… well, what can you do, dear?”
You had no answer.
Your life had been filled with private tutors, lavish events, and staff who handled every chore.
Cooking? Cleaning? Manual labor? You knew none of it.
The few inquiries for help—at the local café, the small farm stand, even the laundry service—ended the same way: polite rejections once they realized you had no skills, no references, and no idea how to start.
By midday, your feet ached and your hope had thinned. You returned to the house with empty hands and a heavier chest, the reality of your escape settling in like dust.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
At home, the tension only grew.
You tried to help. Desperately.
The first afternoon, you offered to wash the dishes after lunch. When they finished, you stood quickly, stacking plates with careful hands.
“I can do this,” you said softly, carrying them to the sink.
It started well enough. But the soap slipped through your fingers like oil. A glass tumbled, shattering against the tiled floor with a sharp crack. You froze, heart leaping into your throat as water splashed everywhere.
Minho appeared first, brow furrowed. “Careful—” He knelt to pick up the shards, voice tight. “Just… leave it. We’ll handle it.”
You tried again the next day with laundry.
Felix had shown you how to sort the clothes and use the old washing machine, his instructions patient and kind. But you overloaded it, forgot to check the pockets, and when the cycle ended, one of Seungmin’s favorite hoodies came out stained with ink from a forgotten pen. The fabric was ruined, the dark blotch spreading like an accusation.
Seungmin stared at it for a long moment, jaw clenched. “It’s fine,” he muttered, though his tone said otherwise. “Accidents happen.” But the way he folded it away carefully, almost protectively, made your stomach twist.
Cooking attempts fared no better.
On the third evening, you volunteered to peel vegetables while Changbin prepared dinner. The knife felt foreign in your grip—too heavy, too unfamiliar. You nicked your finger twice, blood mixing with the carrot peels, and then dropped the whole bowl of chopped onions, sending them scattering across the floor.
The sting in your eyes wasn’t just from the onions.
Hyunjin sighed, rubbing his temples as he helped clean up. “You don’t have to force yourself,” he said, not unkindly, but the frustration was clear beneath the surface. “We’ve been doing this for years without extra hands.”
Chan watched from the doorway, arms crossed, his leader instincts kicking in. He didn’t raise his voice, but his words carried weight. “Look, we get that you’re trying. But this house runs on routine. We can’t afford broken dishes or ruined clothes every day. It’s… stressful.”
The younger ones felt it too. Jeongin tried to smooth things over, offering quiet encouragement when he caught you looking defeated, but even he winced when you accidentally knocked over a potted plant while sweeping, dirt spilling across the wooden floor.
Over the next few days, the frustration built like storm clouds. The boys moved around you with careful distance—polite enough not to be cruel, but clearly on edge.
Conversations in the living room grew shorter when you entered.
Shared meals felt heavier, the clink of chopsticks louder in the awkward silences.
Jisung, who had started to soften, would still crack a small joke now and then, but even he retreated when another mishap occurred. Changbin would mutter under his breath about “one more broken thing” before catching himself and offering a half-hearted “It’s okay.”
You felt every glance, every sigh, every muttered comment like walking on eggshells. The house that had offered shelter now pressed in, reminding you how out of place you truly were.
Your luxurious past had left you unprepared for this simple life, and the gap showed in every clumsy movement, every failed attempt to prove you belonged—even temporarily.
At night, alone in the guest room, you stared at the ceiling, the muffled sounds of the eight of them talking in low voices filtering through the walls.
You knew they were discussing you again.
Protecting their tight-knit world. And part of you wondered how much longer you could stay before they asked you to leave.
But you had nowhere else.
Not yet.
So you kept trying, even as the tension thickened and the boys’ patience wore thinner with every passing day.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
The days blurred together in a quiet rhythm of small, unseen efforts.
You kept trying, even when the clumsiness lingered.
But you learned to do it when no one seemed to be watching—early mornings or late evenings when the house was still half-asleep or busy with their own routines.
One evening, after everyone had scattered to their rooms or the backyard, you slipped into the kitchen.
Using the last of the cash you had carefully counted from your dwindling stash, you had walked to the village market earlier that day and bought groceries.
Nothing fancy. Just more than enough to get by.
You followed a recipe torn from an old magazine you found in a drawer, moving slowly, deliberately. Your hands still trembled a little with the knife, but you didn’t drop anything this time.
The stew simmered gently, filling the kitchen with a warm, savory scent.
You set the table quietly—eight bowls, chopsticks arranged neatly—then retreated to the guest room before anyone noticed.
When they gathered for dinner, you heard the surprised murmurs through the thin walls.
“Who made this?” Changbin’s deep voice carried first, curious rather than suspicious.
“It’s… actually good,” Seungmin added after a moment, sounding almost reluctant.
Jeongin stayed quiet, but you caught the small smile in his tone when he said, “She must’ve done it while we weren’t looking.”
Over the following days, more small things piled up unnoticed at first.
You swept the porch at dawn. You folded laundry when they were out in the fields or running errands. You even managed to fix a loose cabinet handle with a screwdriver you found in a toolbox, though it took you nearly an hour of fumbling.
They noticed the changes gradually—the house a little tidier, meals occasionally appearing without anyone claiming responsibility, the grocery supply quietly replenished with your remaining money.
The skepticism didn’t vanish, but it softened around the edges for some of them. Changbin started leaving small notes of thanks on the counter. Jisung would hum approvingly when he found his favorite snacks restocked. Felix and Jeongin smiled at you more openly, their encouragement gentle and consistent.
Eventually, the house learned to exist with you in it—not as a central part, but as a quiet presence in the background. You moved like a shadow, helpful but unobtrusive. They stopped tensing every time you entered a room. Conversations flowed a little freer around you.
The frustration from your earlier clumsiness faded into tolerant acceptance.
You were there, and for now, that was… manageable.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
Then, you started noticing things.
Little moments that didn’t quite fit the “brothers” image you had assumed.
Hyunjin would lean into Seungmin’s side on the couch while they watched an old movie, fingers intertwined casually.
Changbin would pull Minho into a back hug in the kitchen, murmuring something low that made Minho’s ears turn pink.
Jeongin and Seungmin often shared the same blanket, heads resting close together, soft laughter passing between them like a secret.
At first, you told yourself it was just brotherly affection—deep bonds formed from living together in this isolated village life. Boys could be touchy. It didn’t mean anything more.
Until the kisses.
One afternoon, Jisung was heading into town for supplies. Chan walked him to the door, cupped his face gently, and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “Be safe. I love you,” Chan said, voice warm and easy.
Jisung grinned, kissing him back. “Love you too.”
You had frozen in the hallway, half-hidden, heart stuttering at the casual intimacy.
Another evening, you caught Felix and Hyunjin cuddling openly on the living room floor, legs tangled, exchanging lazy kisses while a drama played in the background. No one batted an eye. Changbin joined them later, pulling Felix closer with a fond rumble.
The pieces slowly clicked into place, but you kept silent, unsure how to react or whether you were even supposed to see any of it.
The moment it became undeniable came during a quiet afternoon in the kitchen.
Felix had asked for your help baking brownies—nothing complicated, just a simple recipe to use up some ingredients. You stood beside him at the counter, mixing the batter carefully under his patient guidance. His presence was warm and encouraging, the kind that made your shoulders relax just a fraction.
The front door creaked open.
Hyunjin stepped in, wiping his hands on his jeans after some outdoor work.
“Going into town for errands,” he announced, voice carrying easily. He crossed the kitchen in a few strides, stopping right beside Felix.
Felix turned with a bright smile. “Already?”
“Won’t be long.” Hyunjin leaned in naturally, pressing a soft kiss to Felix’s cheek, then another quick one to the corner of his mouth. “I love you. Text me if you need anything.”
“I love you too,” Felix replied, cheeks dimpling, completely at ease.
Hyunjin gave you a brief, polite nod before heading out, the door clicking shut behind him.
The kitchen fell into a sudden, heavy silence.
You stood there awkwardly, wooden spoon still in your hand, batter dripping slowly onto the counter.
Your face burned.
You didn’t know where to look—definitely not at Felix.
Felix cleared his throat after a long moment, his usual sunshine energy turning flustered and pink. He scratched the back of his neck, eyes darting to the mixing bowl then back to you.
“Um… about that,” he started slowly, voice softer than usual, almost shy. “I guess you’ve probably noticed some things by now.”
You swallowed, nodding once without meeting his gaze.
Felix let out a small, nervous laugh. “Yeah… all eight of us. We’re together. In a relationship. All of us.” He gestured vaguely toward the rest of the house. “We have been together for a long time now.”
He paused, watching your reaction carefully, the batter forgotten between you.
“We don’t usually explain it to others right away. After everything that happened before… we’re careful. But since you’re staying here and you’ve seen it…” He shrugged, a little helpless. “I didn’t want you to feel weird or confused. Or like you have to pretend you didn’t see anything.”
The air felt thicker, the scent of chocolate and sugar suddenly too sweet.
Felix tilted his head, voice gentle but honest. “You okay? You don’t have to say anything. Just… that’s us. All eight boyfriends, basically.”
He waited, the kitchen quiet except for the faint ticking of the old wall clock, giving you space to process the truth that had been unfolding right in front of you all along.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
The following days settled into a tentative routine, quiet mornings and shared evenings.
It had been more than a month since you stepped off that bus.
You had gotten the hang of village life in small, incremental ways. The narrow paths felt familiar under your feet. You could peel vegetables without nicking your fingers every time. The simple meals you prepared occasionally no longer tasted like experiments.
The house no longer felt like a cage of eggshells—you moved through it with quiet confidence, a background presence that had slowly become part of the scenery.
Sometimes, they invited you to join them.
It started small.
One evening, after dinner, Changbin pulled out an old deck of cards. “Yah, come play with us.”
You hesitated at first, but sat down on the floor beside them. The game was simple—something loud and competitive involving shouting and laughter.
You lost terribly the first few rounds, but the way Jisung dramatically accused Seungmin of cheating, and how Hyunjin dramatically flopped onto Felix’s lap in defeat, made you laugh despite yourself.
Real, unguarded laughter that surprised even you.
After that, the invitations came more often.
Board games on rainy afternoons.
Soccer in the backyard with a worn ball.
Even quiet movie nights where you ended up sandwiched between Jeongin and Jisung on the couch, sharing a blanket.
You found yourself actually enjoying it—the easy banter, the teasing, the way their personalities unfolded when they weren’t on edge. Minho’s dry humor, Chan’s steady warmth, Seungmin’s sharp but fond remarks.
It felt… light.
Normal.
Something you had never really experienced in your old, suffocating world.
Things had grown lighter overall.
Solo moments started happening naturally.
Chan would sit with you on the porch steps one morning, sharing a quiet cup of tea while the others were still asleep.
Minho let you help him in the garden one afternoon, showing you how to pull weeds properly. He was patient, correcting your technique without frustration, even cracking a small smile when you proudly showed him a perfectly straight row.
Hyunjin dragged you into an impromptu art session on the living room floor, handing you cheap crayons and paper. “Just draw whatever. No judgment.” His laughter when you produced a very questionable portrait of their house made your chest feel warm.
Jisung and Changbin pulled you into late-night kitchen raids for snacks, Jisung’s excited rambling filling the space while Changbin quietly made sure you had enough to eat.
Even Seungmin, the most reserved, started leaving small books on your bed with a casual “Thought you might like this” note.
Felix and Jeongin remained the easiest—movie nights turned into whispered conversations, their affection for you clear and uncomplicated. They never pushed, but they made space for you.
And you were genuinely enjoying their company. The way the house felt warmer with all of them in it. The laughter that now included you more often. The subtle protectiveness they showed each other that somehow extended, just a little, toward you.
For the first time since you had left that polished dining table behind, you felt something close to belonging—not fully inside their circle, but no longer entirely outside it either.
You were here, in the background of their world, and somehow, against all odds, it was starting to feel like home.
Even if it was only temporary.
Even if their hearts were already full with each other.
You were content with that.
For now.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
You were walking through the modest market square one afternoon, the sun warm on your shoulders, when a small handwritten sign caught your eye outside the local bakery-café.
“Hiring: Part-time help. No experience needed. Ask inside.”
Your heart gave a small, hopeful jump.
It wasn’t anything grand—no glamorous position or high pay—but it was steady work: helping with orders, cleaning tables, assisting in the kitchen with basic prep.
Enough to start saving again without touching the last of your emergency cash. You stepped inside, nerves fluttering, and spoke to the kind middle-aged owner. She asked a few simple questions, watched you handle a tray of empty cups without dropping them, and nodded.
“You’re hired,” she said with a gentle smile. “Start tomorrow morning, 7 a.m. sharp.”
You beamed, the first real, unfiltered smile you’d felt in weeks. “Thank you. Really.”
It wasn’t a place of your own yet, but landing the job felt like the first solid step forward since you’d stepped off that bus. Something you had earned on your own, without your family’s name or money behind you.
You practically floated back to the house, the small paper with your starting schedule clutched in your hand like a treasure.
The front door creaked open as you entered. Minho was in the living room, sorting through a basket of clean laundry with his usual precise movements. He glanced up at the sound of your footsteps, his sharp eyes immediately catching the way your face was lit up, practically glowing with quiet excitement.
“You look… different,” he said, one eyebrow raised, though his tone lacked its earlier edge. “What happened?”
You couldn’t hold it in. The words tumbled out, bright and breathless.
“I got a job. At the bakery-café in the market. It’s part-time, nothing big, but… they accepted me. I start tomorrow.”
For a moment, Minho just stared. Then the corner of his mouth twitched upward into a small, genuine smile—the kind that softened his usually sharp features. “That’s… good. Really good.”
Before you could overthink it, the happiness bubbling inside you pushed you forward. You stepped closer and wrapped your arms around him in a quick, impulsive hug, the kind born purely from relief and joy.
Minho stiffened at first, caught off guard, his body going rigid against yours. The hug felt awkward—your arms a little too tight, his hands hovering uncertainly at his sides. The warmth of him, the faint scent of laundry soap and something uniquely Minho, made the moment stretch strangely.
Then he composed himself. His hands came up to pat your back once, twice—firm but gentle—before he carefully pulled away, clearing his throat. His ears had turned a faint pink, and he avoided your eyes for a second, focusing instead on folding a shirt with sudden intensity.
“Congrats,” he muttered, voice a touch lower than usual. “That’s a solid start.”
You stepped back quickly, cheeks warming as the awkwardness settled in. “Sorry— I just… got excited. Thank you.”
He nodded once, still not quite meeting your gaze, but the small smile lingered. “No need to apologize. It’s fine.”
After that afternoon, the shift in the house became even more noticeable.
The boys started softening up in quieter, more intentional ways. They no longer just tolerated your presence in the background—they began seeking you out.
You continued to be yourself—quietly helpful, carefully open, genuinely enjoying the growing warmth of their company.
The relationship between the eight of them remained beautifully evident in stolen kisses, cuddles, and soft “I love you”s exchanged without shame, but they no longer felt the need to hide every moment from you.
Their guards were still there, raised just enough to protect what they had built together after the hurt of two years ago.
But the walls had developed windows.
Cracks of light.
Moments where they sought you out, included you, and let the house feel a little less like a temporary shelter and a little more like a shared home.
You smiled more these days.
And sometimes, when you caught one of them watching you with a softer gaze than before, you wondered if they were starting to smile a little more too—because of you.
Even if it was still careful.
Even if it was still new.
It was enough. For now.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
A few weeks had passed since you started your job at the bakery-café, and the new routine had begun to feel almost natural.
You left the house early each morning with a packed lunch one of the boys had quietly prepared the night before. Your shifts were simple but steady: wiping tables, arranging fresh bread in the display, helping with basic baking prep under the owner’s gentle guidance.
The work tired you in a good way, the kind that left your hands busy and your mind clearer than it had ever been in your old life.
When you returned home in the late afternoon, the house no longer felt like a place you were tiptoeing through. The boys had unconsciously started spending more time with you, their actions slipping into something warmer, more attentive. It was as if you had quietly become part of their orbit without anyone saying it out loud.
They took care of you in small, protective ways—making sure you rested, checking if you needed anything from the market, even walking you partway to work some mornings under the guise of “going the same direction.”
At first, none of them seemed to notice how deeply they had all been drawn to you.
But one quiet evening, after you had gone to bed, the eight of them gathered in the living room like they used to when something important needed discussing.
Chan spoke first, voice low and honest. “We need to talk. About her.”
The room was silent for a moment before Minho nodded. “I’ve seen it. All of us… we’re spending more time with her. Taking care of her like she’s already ours.”
Hyunjin ran a hand through his hair. “It’s not just one or two of us. It’s everyone.”
They didn’t hide anything from each other—that had always been their rule after the betrayal two years ago. They laid it all out: the way their hearts softened when you smiled after a long shift, the quiet pride they felt watching you adapt, the protective urge that had grown stronger than simple kindness.
Felix and Jeongin admitted they had felt it first, but now even the most guarded ones—Chan, Minho, Seungmin—couldn’t deny the pull.
“Maybe she is different,” Jisung said quietly, eyes sincere. “She never pushed. She’s been patient with all our walls. She tries so hard without asking for anything in return.”
Jeongin nodded slowly. “Fate crossed our paths for a reason. She showed up at that bus stop when she had nowhere else to go… and we couldn’t leave her. None of us could.”
Seungmin exhaled, leaning back. “I didn’t want to admit it, but… she feels right. Like she fits here. With us.”
Hyunjin smiled faintly. “She makes the house feel fuller. Warmer.”
Felix’s voice was soft but sure. “I think… we all feel it. We like her.”
Chan looked around at his boyfriends with quiet courage. “Then maybe we should stop fighting it. We’ve been honest with each other so far. We can figure this out together.”
The conversation stretched late into the night. Hesitation lingered with the older ones, the scars from their past relationship still tender. But the warmth, the genuine care they had all developed for you, won out in the end. They realized it together—she had become someone important. Someone they didn’t want to let slip away.
For the next several days, they continued as they had been, only now they stopped bothering to hide the depth of their feelings.
They still moved carefully, not wanting to overwhelm you with the sudden intensity. But the affection was clearer: lingering touches on your shoulder, soft smiles reserved just for you, the way they all seemed to gravitate toward you in the evenings.
Stolen glances turned warmer.
“Good morning” greetings carried extra gentleness. They never pressured, never rushed—just let the quiet pull between all nine of you grow naturally.
Until one night it all came to a head.
It was late, the house quiet after a simple dinner and a movie that had left everyone relaxed on the couch and floor. You were helping Felix tidy the kitchen, the two of you laughing softly over a spilled bit of sauce.
The others were scattered nearby, some still chatting in low voices.
Felix turned to you with that bright, dimpled smile, eyes shining with unguarded fondness. Without thinking, he blurted out, “God, I really love having you here with us. We all do. Like… we want you to be part of this. With all of us.”
The words hung in the air.
The rest of the boys froze where they were—Chan mid-sip of water, Minho’s hand still on the back of the couch, Hyunjin’s laugh cutting off sharply. Jeongin’s eyes widened. The kitchen suddenly felt very small.
Felix’s cheeks flushed deep red as he realized what he’d said. “Wait— I mean— I didn’t mean to just—”
But the dam had broken.
“Felix, it’s fine.”
Chan set his glass down slowly, stepping closer, his leader voice calm but sincere.
“We’ve been talking. All of us.” He glanced around at the others, who nodded one by one. “We care about you. A lot.”
Minho cleared his throat, ears pink, but his gaze steady. “We didn’t plan this. After what happened two years ago… we were scared. But you’re different. Patient. Kind. You fit here.”
Hyunjin stepped forward, voice soft. “We don’t want to hide it anymore. We like you. All eight of us. Romantically. As more than just someone staying in the house.”
Jisung rubbed the back of his neck, rambling nervously. “Yeah— and we’re not trying to pressure you or anything! Seriously. You can say no. Or take time. Or whatever you need. We just… wanted to be honest because hiding it felt wrong.”
Changbin nodded, his usual confidence tempered with gentleness. “You don’t have to decide anything tonight. We’re happy with how things are if that’s what you want. But… we had to tell you.”
Seungmin added quietly, “No rush. Really.”
Jeongin and Felix both looked at you with hopeful, slightly anxious eyes, the youngest murmuring, “We just… really like you.”
The eight of them stood there, a mix of nervousness and earnest affection on their faces, giving you space but finally laying their hearts open after weeks of quiet realization.
Your cheeks burned, heart pounding in your chest. The confession felt overwhelming but warm—nothing like the cold control of your old life.
You looked at each of them, the way they had slowly become important to you too, and shyly twisted your fingers together.
“It’s… okay,” you said softly, voice barely above a whisper but honest. “I feel something too. For all of you. I didn’t know how to say it… and I still don’t really know how this works. With eight of you. With me.” You gave a small, shy smile, glancing down.
“But… I like it here. With you. And I think I want to try… if you’ll be patient with me.”
The relief in the room was immediate—soft exhales, small smiles breaking across their faces, the tension easing into something lighter, sweeter.
Felix beamed, stepping closer but still careful. “We’ll be as patient as you need.”
Chan’s eyes were warm, full of quiet promise. “We’ll figure it out together. All of us.”
And just like that, the nine of you stood on the edge of something new—tentative, hopeful, and real.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
The days after the confession were warm and bright in a way you had never experienced before.
The boys were incredibly patient with you, never pushing boundaries or overwhelming you with the weight of their feelings.
But they were more open now—honest in the little ways that mattered.
Felix would greet you in the mornings with a soft “Good morning, beautiful” and a gentle kiss to your forehead if you let him.
Chan started leaving sweet notes in your lunch box for work, simple things like “You’re doing great today. We’re proud of you.”
Minho’s sharp edges had melted into quiet affection; he’d brush your hair behind your ear when it fell in your face while cooking together, murmuring “You look cute when you’re focused.”
Hyunjin drew you into his lap during movie nights, arms wrapped loosely around your waist.
Changbin’s hugs became longer and tighter, his deep voice rumbling “Missed you” even if you’d only been gone for a few hours.
Jisung would pull you into silly dances in the kitchen, spinning you until you were both laughing breathlessly.
Seungmin read to you softly at night sometimes, his voice low and soothing.
Jeongin shared shy, lingering glances and hand-holding that made your heart flutter.
They took care of you openly now—walking you to and from work, making sure you ate well, checking in on how you felt. The dynamic between all nine of you was still new and careful, but it felt right.
Safe. Happy.
You thought the peace might last.
You were wrong.
Unbeknownst to you, your parents had never stopped looking.
The moment you disappeared, they had sent private investigators, discreet teams, anyone who could track the missing heir to their empire.
Weeks of searching had finally paid off.
Someone in the village had recognized your face from old photos, tipped them off, and reported back immediately.
Your parents wasted no time.
The next day started like any other perfect one.
All of you were lounging in the living room after lunch, the house filled with laughter and playful chaos.
Chan and Changbin were wrestling lightly on the floor, Jisung cheering them on dramatically while Felix and Jeongin tried to pile on. Hyunjin was dramatically narrating the “epic battle” from the couch, Seungmin throwing popcorn at them, and Minho watching with an amused smirk, occasionally tossing in a dry comment.
You were curled up on the end of the couch, smiling so wide your cheeks hurt, watching the beautiful mess of your boyfriends.
A firm knock echoed through the house.
“I’ll get it!” you called out cheerfully, hopping up since the rest of them were tangled in their play fight. “You guys keep going.”
You padded to the door, still grinning, and pulled it open without a second thought.
Your smile died instantly.
Your father stood there in his perfectly tailored suit, expression cold and commanding as ever. Your mother beside him, lips pressed into a thin, disappointed line. Two tall, stone-faced guards flanked them—men you recognized from your old life, the kind who followed orders without question.
You froze, breath catching in your throat.
“No…”
You stumbled back a step, heart slamming against your ribs.
The noise in the living room stopped abruptly.
The boys looked up, playful energy vanishing in an instant.
One by one they stood—Chan first, then Minho, the rest following with sharp, protective tension radiating from them.
Your father didn’t waste time.
He stepped forward and grabbed your arm in a bruising grip.
“You’ve had your little runaway fantasy long enough,” he said flatly. “Time to come home.”
You yanked hard, trying to pull free. “Let go—!”
The boys moved instantly.
Chan’s voice was low and dangerous. “Get your hands off her.”
Minho was already stepping between you and your father. “She doesn’t want to go with you.”
Hyunjin and Changbin moved to flank you, while Jisung, Seungmin, Felix, and Jeongin closed in behind.
Protective. United.
But the guards moved as wel.
They intervened smoothly, strong hands pushing the boys back, creating a barrier.
One guard shoved Chan hard enough that he stumbled. Another blocked Minho’s path.
Your father’s eyes swept over the eight boys with pure disdain, lips curling in disgust.
“Look at this,” he spat. “My daughter, staying with eight men like some common whore. How much of a bitch have you become, running away just to spread your legs for a pack of village boys?”
Your mother’s voice was colder, sharper. “Your fiancé has been waiting patiently for your return. We’ve delayed the engagement party long enough because of your childish tantrum.”
Fiancé.
The word dropped like a stone.
You hadn’t even known about any arranged marriage when you left. They must have set it up right after you disappeared—or maybe it had been in the works longer, another piece of your life they controlled without telling you.
The boys went still.
Dumbfounded.
Chan’s face drained of color. Minho’s jaw clenched so tight it looked painful. Hyunjin took an involuntary step back. Changbin’s fists curled at his sides. Jisung’s usual brightness shattered. Seungmin’s eyes widened in quiet hurt. Felix and Jeongin looked heartbroken, the youngest’s lips parting in silent disbelief.
They had been played again.
Just like two years ago.
Another woman with secrets.
Another betrayal.
You whipped your head around, eyes wide and desperate as you looked at them. “It’s not true… please,” you begged, voice cracking. “I didn’t know about any fiancé—I swear. I never agreed to any of this. Please believe me—”
Your father’s grip tightened painfully on your arm, yanking you toward the door. “Enough of your lies. You’re coming home. Now.”
One of the guards moved to help drag you out when you resisted.
The boys stood frozen in the middle of the living room, watching as you were pulled away. None of them moved to stop it this time—the shock, the resurfaced pain from their past, the sudden doubt that you had been hiding something big all along, kept them rooted in place.
You looked back at them one last time, tears spilling down your cheeks. “Please… it’s not what you think. I love you— all of you—“
The door slammed shut behind you.
The house fell deathly silent.
Your father’s car disappeared down the village road, taking you with it.
Inside, the eight boys remained exactly where they were, the warmth and laughter from minutes ago shattered into cold, heavy betrayal.
Chan stared at the closed door, fists clenched, voice barely a whisper.
“…Again.”
Seungmin turned away sharply, shoulders rigid.
“We should’ve known better.”
The others didn’t speak. The doubt had already sunk its claws in deep.
They didn’t know the full story.
They only knew how it felt like history repeating itself—another woman they had let in, only to watch her get ripped away by a life full of secrets they had never been told about.
And this time… it hurt even worse.
Because they had truly started to believe you were different.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
The grand mansion felt colder than you remembered.
Marble floors echoed under every step.
Maids moved like silent shadows, eyes carefully averted.
Guards stood at every corridor, their presence a constant reminder that you were no longer free—you were back in the cage, polished and gleaming.
Your parents had dragged you here without mercy, ignoring your pleas the entire ride. The moment the heavy doors closed behind you, the lectures began: duty, family name, legacy. They wasted no time preparing you for the meeting.
Today was the day you were supposed to meet your fiancé.
You sat in the formal receiving room, dressed in something elegant and stifling, heart heavy with the image of eight boys frozen in betrayal. Their faces haunted you—the shock, the hurt, the way they had stepped back as if you had shattered them all over again.
The door opened.
A tall, handsome man walked in—sharp jawline, warm yet composed features, dressed impeccably but without arrogance.
Jaehyun.
He carried himself with quiet confidence, eyes scanning the room before landing on you with something surprisingly gentle.
Your parents left the two of you alone after stiff introductions, expecting compliance.
The silence stretched only a moment.
“I don’t want this either,” Jaehyun said quietly, voice smooth and low, cutting straight to the point. He sat across from you, posture relaxed but honest. “This arranged marriage… it’s been pushed on me for months too. Business merger disguised as romance. My family and yours—both desperate to secure power.”
You blinked, surprised by his candor.
No pretense.
No superiority.
He continued, a small, wry smile touching his lips. “I’ve had a plan ready for a while now. I’ve been gathering evidence—proof of the illegal activities your family and mine have been involved in. Tax evasion, shady contracts, bribes. Enough to force their hand without dragging innocents through the mud.”
Your breath caught. “You… planned this?”
He nodded. “I hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but here we are. If you’re willing to stand with me, we push through today. No engagement. No marriage. We expose just enough to make them back off. I’ll make sure your name stays clean—I’ll defend you publicly if needed.”
You stared at him, something like relief mixing with fear.
He wasn’t an enemy.
Just another person trapped in the same gilded web.
“…Okay,” you whispered.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
The meeting with both families was explosive.
Jaehyun pushed through exactly as he said—calm, efficient, presenting the documents with surgical precision.
Your parents’ faces twisted from shock to fury.
Accusations flew.
Threats.
But Jaehyun had prepared meticulously; the evidence was airtight on the illegal dealings, yet he carefully left you completely out of it, painting you as the unwilling daughter who had run away from an oppressive household.
Your father raged. Your mother’s disappointment cut deeper than any shout.
In the end, they disowned you on the spot—cutting you off from every account, every connection, every last thread of their empire.
But the authorities moved fast thanks to Jaehyun’s quiet preparations.
Your family was placed under house arrest, their movements restricted while investigations continued.
The business empire now fell to you—the only remaining heir willing to step up and take responsibility, whether you wanted it or not.
You stood your ground through every scream, every demand to reconsider. You loved them, in the complicated way children sometimes love flawed parents, but you refused to let them control you anymore.
The mansion felt even emptier after they were confined to certain wings.
You spent the following days buried in paperwork, meetings with lawyers, and trying to stabilize what was left of the family business.
Jaehyun stayed nearby as an ally, not a fiancé—offering advice without pressure, helping you navigate the chaos he had helped unleash. He was kind, down-to-earth despite his background, and never once made you feel trapped.
But every night, when the mansion grew quiet, your thoughts drifted back to the small village house.
To laughter echoing in a cramped living room.
To eight pairs of eyes that had looked at you with growing warmth.
To Felix’s dimpled smiles, Chan’s steady presence, Minho’s quiet care, and all the others who had slowly made you feel like you belonged.
You didn’t want any of this—the money, the power, the responsibility—if it meant losing them.
The empire could crumble for all you cared.
So, once the immediate legal storm settled and you had signed enough documents to keep things from collapsing entirely, you made your choice.
You packed a small bag—just like the first time.
You left detailed instructions with a trusted and now carefully vetted staff, ensuring the business would run under strict oversight while you were gone. Jaehyun gave you a quiet nod of understanding when you told him.
“You deserve to chase what actually makes you happy,” he said simply. “Good luck.”
And then you left.
The journey back to the village felt longer this time—bus rides, dusty roads, heart pounding with every mile.
You had no idea what you would find.
Whether the boys would even listen.
Whether the betrayal they felt had already closed the door forever.
But you had to try.
The narrow path to their house looked exactly the same.
The shoes by the door.
The open windows.
The faint sound of voices inside.
You stood there for a long moment, bag clutched tightly, before raising your hand and knocking.
The voices inside quieted.
Footsteps approached.
The door opened.
And there they were—eight pairs of eyes widening in shock, a mix of pain, confusion, and something fragile flickering beneath the surface.
You swallowed hard, voice trembling but clear.
“I’m back. Please… let me explain everything.”
The air hung heavy between all of you.
They didn’t stop you.
They simply moved to the living room in heavy silence, sitting down on the couch and chairs like they were bracing for impact.
You stood in front of them, bag still slung over your shoulder, and started talking.
You told them everything. You explained the arranged marriage you had known nothing about until the moment your father mentioned it at their door. You laid out the evidence gathered, the confrontation, the disownment, the house arrest on your family, and how the entire empire had suddenly fallen into your hands whether you wanted it or not.
“I never lied to you,” you whispered, tears slipping down your cheeks. “I didn’t know about the fiancé. I ran because I couldn’t breathe anymore. And when I got dragged back… all I could think about was you. All of you. The job at the café, the movie nights, the way you made me laugh, the way you looked at me like I mattered for the first time in my life. I gave it all up. For this. For us.”
Your voice broke completely on the last word.
“Please… forgive me. I know how it looked. I know it hurt you—especially after what happened two years ago. But I’m not her. I’m not leaving you for someone else. I chose you. I’m choosing you right now.”
Silence.
Heavy, suffocating silence.
None of them spoke.
Chan stared at the floor. Minho’s gaze was fixed on the wall. Hyunjin kept swallowing hard, eyes glassy but refusing to meet yours. Changbin’s fists were clenched on his knees. Jisung bit his lip until it turned white. Seungmin looked somewhere over your shoulder. Felix and Jeongin, the ones who had brought you here in the first place, seemed the most torn—hurt and longing mixing in their expressions, but still no words.
You tried again, voice smaller.
“Please… say something. Yell at me if you have to. Just… don’t shut me out.”
Still nothing.
The fear in their eyes was clear—they were terrified of letting you back in, of being hurt the same way again. The scars from the person who had betrayed them were still too raw, and your sudden disappearance had ripped them open.
Desperation clawed at your chest.
You slowly sank to your knees on the wooden floor right in front of the couch, hands trembling in your lap.
“I’m begging you,” you whispered, looking up at each of them even though most refused to meet your gaze. “I love you. All eight of you. I know it’s complicated and new and scary, but I want this. I want us. Please… don’t throw me away.”
The silence stretched unbearably.
Tears fell freely now, dripping onto your jeans. Your shoulders shook.
You felt defeated.
Completely and utterly broken.
After what felt like forever, you wiped your face with the back of your hand and slowly pushed yourself to your feet.
Your legs felt like lead.
“…Okay,” you breathed, voice barely audible. “I understand.”
Before you turned to leave, you reached into your bag and pulled out a small, folded envelope. You placed it gently on the low table in front of the couch—right where they could all see it.
Inside were the documents Jaehyun had helped you prepare: proof that you had officially distanced yourself from your family’s illegal dealings, a letter explaining every detail again in writing, and the simple silver necklace you had been wearing the day you met them at the bus stop—the only thing you had kept from your old life, now offered back as a symbol that you were willing to leave everything behind.
You looked at them one last time, each face that had become so dear to you.
“I love you,” you said softly, the words heavy with finality. “All of you. I’m sorry I hurt you. Goodbye.”
Then you turned and walked out the door, closing it quietly behind you.
The village air felt colder than before as you started down the path, shoulders slumped, heart in pieces.
Inside the house, the room remained deathly silent for a long minute after you left.
No one moved.
No one spoke.
Then Chan leaned forward slowly, his hand reaching out to pick up the envelope you had left. His fingers trembled slightly as he opened it, pulling out the documents and the necklace. The silver chain caught the light, delicate and familiar.
He stared at it for a long moment, thumb brushing over the small pendant.
The others finally shifted, eyes drawn to what he held.
Chan unfolded the letter, reading the neat handwriting that laid everything out once more—your fear, your choice, your love. Proof that you had truly walked away from the empire for them.
He swallowed hard, voice rough when he finally spoke, barely above a whisper.
“…She really left it all.”
The silence cracked just a little.
And for the first time since the door had closed, the eight of them looked at each other—fear, regret, and the undeniable pull toward you warring in every expression.
The envelope and necklace sat between them like a question none of them were ready to answer yet…
…but the ache of watching you walk away was already louder than their fear.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
The narrow dirt road leading to the village bus stop felt endless.
You stood under the chipped waiting shed, the same one where Felix and Jeongin had found you months ago. Your eyes stayed fixed on the ground, tears falling steadily onto the dry earth, creating small dark spots that disappeared almost as quickly as they formed.
Your chest ached with a pain so deep it felt physical—like something had been ripped out and left hollow.
You had nothing left.
No home except the one you had just been quietly rejected from.
The bus would come eventually, and you had no idea where you would go after that.
Anywhere but here, maybe.
Somewhere you could disappear again.
Footsteps approached from behind—soft but steady on the dirt path.
You didn’t look up. You couldn’t.
The hurt was too raw, too overwhelming.
Whoever it was could pass by.
You just wanted to be invisible.
The footsteps stopped right in front of you.
Eight pairs of familiar shoes came into view—worn sneakers, scuffed boots, the same ones you had seen scattered by the door every day.
Your breath hitched.
Slowly, painfully, you lifted your head.
There they were.
All eight of them.
Standing in a loose semicircle around you at the bus stop, breathing hard like they had run the entire way.
None of them spoke at first.
The only sounds were the distant rustle of fields and your own shaky breathing.
Chan took one small step closer, his voice rough and low, cracking on the first word.
“…Don’t go.”
It was barely more than a whisper, but it shattered the heavy quiet.
Hyunjin swallowed hard, stepping up beside Chan. “We were scared. After what happened before… seeing you get dragged away like that, hearing about a fiancé we knew nothing about—it felt like the past repeating. We should’ve done something.”
Minho’s voice was softer, trembling. “We let our fear win. I’m so sorry.”
Changbin exhaled shakily, his deep voice gentler than you had ever heard it. “You told us everything. You left all of that behind for us. The money, the family, everything. And we just sat there like idiots.”
Jisung stepped forward, eyes glistening. “We know you didn’t lie. We know you chose us. But we were too hurt and too scared to say it in time.”
Seungmin looked down for a second, then met your eyes. “We’re not perfect. But we love you more than anything.”
Felix moved closer, reaching out hesitantly before gently taking one of your hands. His touch was warm, trembling. “We ran the whole way here because the house felt wrong without you. Empty. We don’t want you to leave. Please… stay.”
Jeongin, voice small but determined, added, “We love you too. All of us. We were just too afraid to say it when it mattered most.”
Chan lifted the necklace in his other hand, the silver catching the fading light. “You really walked away from everything… for us.”
He took another step, close enough now that you could see the regret and longing clear in his eyes.
“We’re sorry we hurt you. We’re sorry we made you feel like you had to kneel and beg. We should’ve held you instead.” His free hand came up slowly, brushing a tear from your cheek with the gentlest touch.
“If you’ll still have us… if you can forgive us for not fighting for you sooner… come home.”
The other seven closed in slowly, surrounding you in a protective, warm circle—no longer distant, no longer silent.
Felix squeezed your hand tighter. “We want you. The real you. The one who tried so hard in the kitchen, who laughed at our dumb games, who made the house feel complete. Nine of us.”
Minho’s voice was quieter but sincere. “No more hiding. No more doubts. Just… us.”
They stood there, eight pairs of eyes fixed on you, waiting.
The bus stop felt smaller, the fields quieter.
Your tears kept falling, but this time they weren’t only from pain.
The ache in your heart was still there—but now it was mixed with something warmer, something hopeful.
You had come back for them.
And they had run after you.
“Please… don’t get on that bus.” Chan whispered again, voice thick.
And the rest of them echoed it in soft, desperate murmurs.
“Come home.”
“We love you.”
“Stay with us.”
You nodded, tears still streaming, and that was all it took.
All eight of them surged forward at once.
Strong arms wrapped around you from every direction.
Finally.
“I’ve got you,” Chan murmured into your hair, voice thick with relief.
“We’re not letting go again,” Seungmin whispered, smiles returning as he kissed your wet cheek.
“Never again,” Hyunjin added softly, his younger voice full of quiet promise.
They held you until your sobs turned into shaky breaths, until the sun dipped lower and the fields glowed golden around you.
Then they walked you home—hands linked, shoulders bumping, soft apologies and “I love you”s exchanged the entire way.
The nightmare was over.
You were home.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝
The next few days were warmer than anything you had ever known.
The house felt brighter, laughter easier, touches bolder now that the fear had cracked open and let the light in. They spoiled you gently—extra cuddles after your café shifts, surprise picnics in the fields, late-night talks where they asked about your past without judgment and shared more of theirs in return.
You hadn’t been stupid when you left the mansion.
Before walking away completely, you had kept one credit card and arranged for a small, quiet percentage of the family business to be transferred into a separate account under your name only. It wasn’t enough to live luxuriously, but it gave you a safety net—enough to help with village expenses if needed, or to treat the boys to something nice without touching their hard-earned money.
You told them about it honestly one evening, and they accepted it with soft smiles and proud kisses, no suspicion, no walls.
── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ smut
And here you were, in the center, heart racing, surrounded by eight boyfriends who looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.
All nine of you were tangled together on the big, worn couch after dinner—legs draped over laps, heads resting on shoulders, the movie long forgotten on the screen. The air had grown thick with quiet tension for days, stolen kisses turning longer, hands wandering further under clothes during cuddles.
Tonight, the dam finally broke.
Clothes came off piece by piece, scattered across the living room floor.
The couch wasn’t big enough for all of you, but no one cared. You moved to the thick blankets they had laid out on the floor earlier, bodies pressing together in a heated, loving mess.
It was overwhelming in the most beautiful way.
They were patient at first—kissing every inch of you, whispering praises.
“So pretty for us,”
“We’ve wanted this,”
“Tell us if it’s too much”
Hands explored, mouths followed. They took turns between your thighs, their tongues gentle and eager, drawing soft moans from you while the others watched with dark, loving eyes.
Chan and Hyunjin claimed you first.
Chan laid you down gently on your back, his broad frame hovering over you as he kissed you slow and deep, tongue sliding against yours while his hand caressed your thigh. Hyunjin knelt beside your head, long fingers threading through your hair as he leaned down to kiss you too—messy, passionate, his pretty lips sucking on your bottom lip before moving to your neck.
While they focused on you, the others paired off naturally around you.
On your left, Minho and Seungmin were tangled together—Minho on his back, Seungmin straddling his lap, grinding slowly while they kissed like they were starving for each other. Soft, breathy moans escaped them as Minho’s hands gripped Seungmin’s hips.
On your right, Changbin and Jisung were already lost in each other—Changbin sitting up against the couch, Jisung in his lap facing him, riding him with eager little rolls of his hips while Changbin whispered filthy praises into his ear.
Felix and Jeongin stayed close, making out heatedly beside you—hands roaming, Jeongin whimpering softly as Felix stroked him slowly, both of them watching you with dark, loving eyes.
Chan slid into you first—thick and careful, stretching you open with a low groan. “Fuck… so tight for us, baby,” he breathed against your mouth, starting a deep, steady rhythm that had your back arching. Hyunjin leaned over you, kissing you through every thrust, his free hand pinching and rolling your nipples until you were moaning into his mouth.
They worked together beautifully—Chan fucking you with controlled power while Hyunjin kissed and touched every sensitive spot he could reach. When Chan’s pace grew faster and he came inside you with a deep, shaky groan, Hyunjin took his place almost immediately.
Hyunjin was longer, sliding in with a smooth thrust that made you gasp. He fucked you slower but deeper, hips rolling in that graceful way only he could manage, eyes locked on yours the entire time. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he whispered, voice husky.
Chan stayed close, kissing your neck and murmuring “Good girl… taking us so well” while his hand reached down to rub your clit in slow circles.
You came hard around Hyunjin, clenching and trembling, and he followed soon after, spilling deep inside you with a soft, pretty moan.
They kissed you through the aftershocks—Chan’s lips on your forehead, Hyunjin’s on your shoulder—before gently pulling back.
Then the switch happened.
Felix and Jeongin moved in next, the two youngest taking their turn with you while the others continued on the side, waiting for their turn.
Felix laid you on your side, spooning behind you. He entered you slowly from behind, one arm wrapped around your waist, the other hand holding your thigh up as he thrust gently but deeply. “Feels so good… love being inside you,” he whimpered against your neck, voice sweet and needy.
At the same time, Jeongin knelt in front of you, sliding his cock between your lips. You sucked him eagerly, tongue swirling while Felix fucked you from behind in perfect sync.
On the sides, the pairings shifted,
Chan was now with Minho—Chan on his knees, fucking Minho from behind while Minho stroked himself, both of them groaning low.
Hyunjin and Seungmin were making out heatedly, hands jerking each other off slowly as they watched you.
Changbin had Jisung bent over the arm of the couch, pounding into him with deep, powerful thrusts that made Jisung cry out beautifully.
The rhythm continued.
After Felix filled you with a soft, broken moan and Jeongin came down your throat with a shy whimper, you barely had time to catch your breath before the next pair switched in.
Changbin and Jisung took their turn with you.
Changbin was careful with his strength but intense— he pulled you onto his lap so you were riding him, his thick cock stretching you wide while his big hands guided your hips. “That’s it, ride me just like that,” he growled softly, eyes dark with lust.
Jisung knelt beside you, kissing you messily, then feeding you his cock while you bounced on Changbin. The two of them worked you between them until you were shaking and coming again, Changbin following with a deep grunt as he filled you, Jisung spilling across your tongue moments later.
Next came Minho and Seungmin.
Minho took you from behind on all fours—sharp, precise thrusts that hit every perfect spot while Seungmin knelt in front of you, letting you suck him while he praised you in that calm, slightly teasing voice. “Look at you… such a good girl for all of us.” Minho’s hand reached around to rub your clit until you came hard, clenching around him.
Both of them finished inside you and on your lips, leaving you dripping and glowing.
By the end, all of them had taken turns in different pairings—switching fluidly so every single one of your boyfriends fucked you at least once, sometimes more, while the others kissed, touched, or pleasured each other around you.
The final round was all nine of you in one messy, loving pile.
You were on your back again, legs spread as Chan slid back into you for a second round, slow and deep. Felix and Hyunjin were on either side of your head, letting you alternate sucking them. Jeongin and Minho were kissing down your chest and stomach. Changbin and Jisung were making out above you while their hands stroked wherever they could reach. Seungmin was behind Chan, slowly fucking him while Chan fucked you—creating a beautiful chain of pleasure.
Moans and whispered “I love you”s filled the room.
You came one last time—hard, shaking, tears of overwhelming pleasure in your eyes—triggering a domino effect as the rest of them followed, spilling inside you, on your skin, or down your throat.
When exhaustion finally crept in, you were a tangled, sweaty, glowing pile on the blankets.
Changbin had pulled extra pillows and a big comforter over all of you.
You lay in the center, surrounded by warm skin and soft kisses pressed to your shoulders, neck, and lips.
“I love you,” you whispered into the quiet, voice hoarse but full of happiness.
Eight voices answered back, sleepy and sincere:
“We love you too.”
Jisung nuzzled closer, dimples deep even in the dark. “Stay forever?”
You smiled, pressing a kiss to whoever’s chest was nearest.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
The nine of you drifted off like that—hearts full, bodies sated, the future stretching out warm and open in front of you.
so... um.... owner channie with a working pup sub! he's so sweet, clicker training them and everything!! they get a harness with a "DO NOT PET" patch and a cute tag with their name on the front and chan's number on the back. they get snack treats when training during the day and get to cum as a treat after hours. i want him! - dingo 🐕
YESSS DINGO!
Chans puppy is always the best trained puppy around! They always heel so nicely and he never has to repeat himself, so of COURSE they get lots of treats!
If they're extra good, he'll make them cum multiple times when they get home 🙂↕️🙂↕️🙂↕️. Always takes such good care of em and holds em to his chest as he works on them.
He probably pulls out a different clicker that has a slightly different sound to your normal one so that he can train you to associate that noise with treats heh
Hi! Can I request who would have a daddy kink and who would have a mommy kink for their s/o
~ kinks skz headcanons #3 ~
warnings: not much gang dw also i mention this in all my posts now; everyone involved is of legal age + for reading purposes, it is fiction.
-> AHAH- sorry for literally disappearing for a whole week and a bit lol i wasn't posting cuz i was like fully locked in for hannah bahng's orchid stream contest and like the winners get a polaroid each so yk i was DEEP IN IT 😛 anyway i knew this req would come eventually but ykw im here for it like bring on the kinks, also omg im getting so good at colour matching my banners fr
방찬 ~ bang chan ~ he carries himself with quiet authority, one that would naturally spill into the bedroom where his love for control translates into calling himself daddy.
chan’s version of being daddy isn’t overbearing but deeply rooted in his instinct to protect, to guide and to take charge when it’s needed most. he has always carried himself like the reliable one, the person who steadies the ship when everything else is falling apart, so it only makes sense that this role would find its way into his intimate dynamic too. he doesn’t announce it loudly but lets it slip in the heat of a moment, the way his lips curl as he says “daddy’s got you, yeah? trust me.” and the weight of those words is so grounding that you feel like you could surrender everything to him without fear. his dominance isn’t harsh or cruel but a warm, firm tether that keeps you in place.
for chan, the title is as much about reassurance as it is control. he thrives on seeing you let go, trusting him completely to take the reins while you give in to whatever he demands. there’s an undeniable pride in the way he calls himself daddy, as though it cements his position as the anchor in your world, someone who knows what you need even before you do. he’ll tilt your chin up, eyes burning with certainty, and murmur “look at me, baby, daddy’s right here.” it’s almost therapeutic, his voice turning gravelly and coaxing, urging you to relax even while he exerts full dominance.
the dynamic isn’t just confined to physical intimacy either. chan’s tendency to call himself daddy carries into playful banter, moments when he wants to tease you into remembering who’s in charge. if you’re being cheeky or giving him attitude, he’ll smirk, press close, and let the word fall from his lips like a warning. “you really gonna test me right now?” his dominance is a game of push and pull, where your defiance only fuels his possessive streak, pulling out the side of him that demands obedience in the most alluring way.
there’s something magnetic about how chan makes the word feel layered. it’s not just about sex, it’s about intimacy, about reinforcing that you are safe under his care. it’s him making sure you eat, making sure you rest, making sure you’re looked after, and then tying it all together with the possessive thread of “daddy knows best.” you can hear the slight teasing undertone but beneath it lies absolute devotion. he wears the role like a second skin, natural and unwavering, balancing dominance with tenderness.
ultimately, chan doesn’t need to shout or force the title because it belongs to him already. the way he carries you to bed when you’re too tired, the way he steps in when you’re overwhelmed, the way he looks at you as if you’re his entire world, it all bleeds into that same energy. when he whispers “be good for me,” it’s not just a command, it’s a promise that he will always be the one to guide, to protect, and to claim you entirely as his.
이민호 ~ lee minho ~ he would embrace a mommy kink for his partner, finding delight in turning his teasing into playful submission, worshipping you with a sly smirk.
minho’s relationship with the term mommy is playful but laced with genuine reverence, a dynamic that feeds into both his mischievous streak and his hidden desire to let go. he loves to tease, to push buttons, to provoke reactions, but underneath that cocky grin, there’s a part of him that craves someone who can put him in his place. he’ll let the word slip with a mocking lilt at first, “what’s wrong, mommy? don’t like it when i’m being bad?” but when he sees the way your expression hardens, something inside him softens instantly, giving you the control he pretends to resist.
minho thrives in that tension between defiance and obedience. he wants to see you demand it from him, to pull his smirk apart until he’s left pliant in your hands. the act of calling you mommy turns into both a game and a declaration, his voice low and sultry as he finally admits “yes mommy, i’ll be good.” it’s the satisfaction of watching his walls crumble, of seeing his cockiness unravel into submission when you push back hard enough. and for him, there’s something intoxicating about that surrender, the way he willingly hands you the reins while keeping his sharp edges.
the kink becomes an extension of his everyday behaviour. minho is notorious for his sarcasm and sharp wit, but the moment you flip the dynamic on him, suddenly he’s the one flustered, struggling to keep his composure. he’ll pretend it doesn’t affect him, rolling his eyes when you tell him “say it again,” but the flush on his cheeks gives him away. calling you mommy forces him to confront just how much he likes being controlled, even if he’d never admit it out loud outside of those moments.
there’s also an unspoken intimacy in the way he leans into it. minho’s trust runs deep, and for him to willingly use the title is his way of acknowledging how much he relies on you, how much he enjoys being nurtured and cared for beneath the layers of his sarcasm. when he whispers “thank you, mommy,” after you’ve taken care of him, there’s a vulnerability in his tone that strips him bare, reminding you that his sharp tongue hides a soft heart that only you get to see.
in the end, minho turns the mommy kink into something deeply playful yet rawly affectionate. it’s him teasing you relentlessly until you put him back in his place, him rolling his eyes only to melt into obedience the moment you assert authority. it’s the smug smirk transforming into wide eyes, the sarcastic laugh giving way to whispered pleas. and as much as he tries to pretend it’s just another game, the sincerity behind the way he calls you mommy tells the truth, he loves being yours, even when it means submitting completely.
서창빈 ~ seo changbin ~ he takes pride in being dominant, carrying himself with power and intensity, and claiming the title of daddy like it was made for him.
changbin has always been headstrong, full of confidence and an underlying need to take control, and that bleeds effortlessly into the daddy role. he doesn’t shy away from it, doesn’t hesitate to wear the title with pride, because for him it’s more than just dominance but instead its a statement that you belong to him completely. when he growls “say daddy,” in that low, commanding voice, it’s not a suggestion but an order, one that sends shivers down your spine because there’s no mistaking his authority.
he thrives on control, on the thrill of having you bend under his words and his touch. for changbin, being daddy means making sure you’re aware of his dominance every second, whether it’s in the way he grips your waist tightly or the way he leans close to murmur “daddy doesn’t like it when you act like that.” the authority in his tone demands obedience, but there’s also this intoxicating devotion woven through, because as much as he commands, it’s always driven by how much he adores you.
his approach to being daddy is also infused with his playful competitiveness. he loves pushing your limits, challenging you to see just how far you’ll go for him, only to reward you with overwhelming praise when you do. he’ll smirk and say “good girl,” his pride clear as he watches you melt under his approval. it’s a power dynamic, yes, but one that constantly balances between his ferocity and his unwavering affection for you.
changbin also uses the title outside the heat of the moment, turning it into a constant reminder of his dominance. when you’re being cheeky, he’ll pull you against him and murmur in your ear, “don’t forget who i am to you.” there’s no escaping the possessive glint in his eyes, the way he needs you to acknowledge his role not just when you’re tangled in sheets but in every space you share. it’s his way of ensuring that his presence, his control, his claim over you is always felt.
ultimately, changbin’s daddy kink is a reflection of his fiery personality. it’s bold, unapologetic, and dripping with intensity, but beneath all of that lies a deep need to care, to protect, to make sure you never feel anything but wanted under his dominance. when he calls himself daddy, it’s a declaration that you are his, utterly and irrevocably.
황현진 ~ hwang hyunjin ~ he would indulge in a mommy kink, finding comfort and arousal in giving himself over to nurturing authority and the intimacy of being cared for.
hyunjin’s relationship with the term mommy is tender yet deeply erotic, an intertwining of his need for affection and his desire to be completely vulnerable. he wears his emotions openly, and there’s something about surrendering to you, calling you mommy, that feeds into his longing for intimacy. he’ll whisper it softly, testing the word with flushed cheeks, “mommy, please,” as though every syllable is a confession of just how much he craves you.
for hyunjin, it’s not about playful teasing or mocking tones. it’s about genuine submission, a need to be looked after, guided, and controlled. he adores the way you nurture him, how you soothe him when his emotions overwhelm, and calling you mommy becomes an extension of that trust. when he rests his head in your lap, eyes shut and voice quiet, murmuring “you always know what’s best,” it’s a mixture of gratitude and devotion that pours from him.
the kink also carries a heavy element of dependence. hyunjin finds comfort in giving up the pressure of control, in letting you dictate what happens while he follows with complete obedience. the intimacy of being told what to do, of being reassured and praised, fuels his desire to keep giving in. he thrives under your authority, every “good boy” making his heart race as much as his body reacts.
in moments of intimacy, his mommy kink brings out a raw, almost desperate side of him. he clings to you, his hands trembling as he begs for more, voice breaking as he repeats “please, mommy, don’t stop.” it’s a dynamic built on his vulnerability, his willingness to open himself entirely to you without fear of rejection. the word becomes a lifeline, a way to ground himself in your authority and love while he unravels in your hands.
in the end, hyunjin’s mommy kink is both connection and submission. it’s about the way he looks at you with wide, trusting eyes, the way he clings to your every word, the way he surrenders with such sincerity that it feels almost sacred. calling you mommy is his way of showing how deeply he adores you, how much he craves your guidance, and how willingly he would hand over everything just to be kept under your care.
이용복 ~ lee felix ~ he thrives in playful dominance, proudly calling himself daddy while showering his partner in affection and teasing control.
felix would take the daddy role in a way that feels both protective and cheeky, always using it to remind you that he’s in charge but also that he’s spoiling you rotten. he’d lean in close with that soft aussie lilt and whisper things like “daddy’s got you, yeah? don’t need to worry about a single thing.” his voice would be smooth but teasing, almost sing-song when he says it, and it’d make you melt because he knows how much the title itself affects you. he’d thrive on the mix of comfort and authority, making the word sound both filthy and gentle at the same time.
in everyday life, he’d use it casually as well, like when he’s cooking in the kitchen or bringing you a drink. he’d grin and say “say thank you, baby” in that playful tone, pretending to pout if you don’t respond quickly enough. the nickname becomes less about kink in those moments and more about building that little dynamic into your relationship, where he feels like the one always taking care of you. his cheeky giggles and teasing expressions would always follow, making it impossible to ignore the mix of humour and heat behind his words.
when things get heated, his entire tone shifts. felix’s voice would drop lower, a deep growl sliding in when he commands you, "here, now.” he’d use the word as a verbal leash, reminding you of his dominance with every repetition, his hands gripping your hips tighter each time. the softness of his usual tone would disappear into something much darker, something that makes you feel small in the best way, and that switch would thrill him.
emotionally, felix would link the word to his protectiveness. he’d genuinely like the way it symbolises trust, that you let him take control of you, that you lean on him in those moments. when you curl into his chest after, he’d murmur “daddy’s proud of you” with his lips against your hair, and it would feel so genuine that it ties the whole thing back to love. it’s not just dominance for him but reassurance, his own way of anchoring you.
felix would also be the type to joke about it with a smirk after, poking fun at you if you blushed too hard when he said it. he’d laugh in that husky voice, teasing “you love it when i say that, huh? you’re hopeless.” his tone would be sassy but never cruel, making the entire dynamic safe but exciting. the nickname becomes both your weakness and his favourite tool, something he never lets you forget even in the smallest, most casual settings.
한지성 ~ han jisung ~ he thrives off being cared for and indulged, naturally leaning into a mommy kink that amplifies his needy, affectionate side.
jisung would be drawn to calling you mommy in moments where his clinginess shines through, especially when he’s feeling vulnerable or craving attention. his voice would go soft and whiny, tugging at your sleeve while mumbling “mommy, can i stay with you?” he’d almost weaponise his cuteness, knowing how much it disarms you. it’s not dominance for him but surrender, giving into that side of himself that just wants to be spoiled and comforted.
he’d blur the lines between playful and genuine when he uses it. during lazy mornings when you’re still half asleep, jisung would climb on top of you and bury his face in your neck, mumbling “mommy feels so warm, don’t make me get up.” in those moments, the title is affectionate and childlike, turning his neediness into something tender. he thrives off the intimacy it creates, where he doesn’t need to be strong or serious but can just be taken care of.
when things turn intimate, jisung’s use of mommy gets breathier and desperate. he’d moan it against your skin, dragging it out with each gasp like he’s begging for more, “please mommy, i need it, i need you.” the desperation in his voice makes it sound like the word itself is keeping him grounded, like you’re the only one who can give him what he craves. the title becomes a plea, a surrender that heightens the intensity of every moment you share.
emotionally, jisung ties the word to safety and nurture. he likes the idea that you’re the one guiding him, that he doesn’t have to overthink because you’re already in control. after everything, when he’s curled up against you, he’d mumble “thank you mommy” with shy gratitude, his voice muffled against your chest. it makes the entire dynamic feel less like a roleplay and more like an extension of his personality, where being taken care of is something he genuinely needs.
in playful contexts, jisung would tease himself with it. he’d smirk at you when you scold him and say “i’ll be good” with exaggerated innocence, watching for your reaction. he loves how versatile the title is, how it can switch from sweet to filthy to funny depending on the situation. it becomes a staple in your relationship, something that symbolises the way jisung thrives when he’s allowed to give in and lean entirely on you.
김승민 ~ kim seungmin ~ he hides his desires behind sarcasm, but when he lets go he embraces the daddy role with sharp control and smug intensity.
seungmin would initially resist the idea, acting too sarcastic and cold to openly call himself daddy, but deep down he loves the power it gives him. he’d let it slip casually the first time, almost testing you, muttering “daddy’s talking, don’t interrupt” with that smirk. when you react, he’d raise an eyebrow and act like it wasn’t a big deal, but internally he’s hooked on the way it makes you shiver. he thrives on the authority it suggests, especially because it fits his teasing, dominant streak so well.
in everyday life, he’d use it strategically, never overplaying his hand but always reminding you who’s in charge. if you’re being bratty, he’d click his tongue and mutter “you really wanna do this right now?” in a cool, measured tone, making you second guess yourself. he uses the word to keep you off balance, half embarrassed, half desperate for more. it becomes a verbal game for him, a way to see how much control he really has over you without ever raising his voice.
during intimacy, seungmin’s use of daddy becomes sharper and more commanding. his voice would drop, calm and controlled, ordering “look at me when you say it.” he thrives on precision, making you follow his words perfectly, the title itself acting as a leash binding you to him. his smug satisfaction at your obedience would shine through, the corner of his mouth quirking as he reminds you who holds all the control.
emotionally, seungmin attaches the role to his protective side, though he rarely admits it outright. in quiet moments after, he might tuck you against him and murmur “daddy’s got you, don’t worry” in a rare show of softness. it’s rare enough that it stands out, showing that beneath the sarcasm and smug control, there’s genuine care in the way he embraces the role. it’s his way of anchoring you, making sure you know you’re safe even when he’s been rough.
he’d also weaponise it playfully, especially in arguments or teasing moments. if you’re mad at him, he’d smirk and say “relax, daddy knows best” just to rile you up. he uses it to disarm you, to distract you with embarrassment or heat whenever the mood gets too serious. the dynamic becomes a constant push and pull, where seungmin’s sarcasm collides with his control, making daddy less of a joke and more of a signature part of his dominance over you.
양정인 ~ yang jeongin ~ he surprises with his boldness, adopting a mommy kink that reveals his bratty yet secretly submissive side.
jeongin would embrace calling you mommy in a mischievous, bratty way, testing how far he can push your patience with it. he’d smirk and say “what are you gonna do about it, mommy?” when he’s being cheeky, deliberately poking at you to provoke a reaction. he thrives on the tension it creates, knowing it pushes your buttons but also reveals how much power you hold over him. the word becomes his way of inviting discipline while pretending he’s in control.
outside intimacy, he’d use it casually to tease you, especially in public or around friends when no one else knows what it means. he’d lean over and whisper “thanks mommy” in your ear with a wicked grin, leaving you flustered while he acts innocent. he loves how the title unsettles you in everyday settings, making you remember the dynamic even when it’s completely out of context. his bratty streak thrives on the secret power play.
when things turn heated, jeongin’s tone changes from playful to desperate. he’d pant the word against your lips, “please mommy, don’t stop” with a voice that cracks under the weight of need. the bratty act fades quickly when he’s overwhelmed, and suddenly mommy becomes a plea, a surrender he can’t hold back. the switch from teasing to begging excites him, making the word feel like the ultimate confession of how much control you have over him.
emotionally, jeongin ties the kink to his trust in you. calling you mommy is his way of admitting he feels safe enough to let go, to push boundaries knowing you’ll ground him. after everything, he might hide his face in your shoulder, mumbling “you’re the best” in a shy tone that contradicts his earlier bratty energy. the word carries a softness when he’s vulnerable, showing how deeply he ties it to love and security.
he’d also use it to test his limits, deliberately disobeying just to see how far you’ll go in response. he thrives on the correction, on being put back in his place, and he’ll tease you with “is that all you’ve got, mommy?” in a smug voice until you prove him wrong. it’s a constant game for jeongin, where mommy isn’t just a title but the trigger for his entire bratty-submissive dynamic, balancing between playful rebellion and desperate surrender.
Yandere!Inmate who keeps every single letter from you neatly folded under his bed. He goes through them religiously every evening, rehearsing each line like a prayer. He doesn't want to forget anything, not even the smallest detail. Where you went, what you ate, what you wore, he wants it burned into his memory. One day he'll be the one to accompany you, so he has to blend in as if he was never away to begin with.
Yandere!Inmate who closes his eyes during phone calls, trying to pretend there's no reinforced glass between the two of you. He grips onto the handle, savoring each word coming out of your pretty mouth. He promises you he'll be good. Sometimes he'll ask you to talk about future plans: where should you go together on holiday? What was that place you wanted to visit with him? He just needs a little push, you see. Perhaps one of the guards has forgotten the terrors he's capable of, or another inmate is becoming particularly cocky - either way, he can't go back to his old ways. No matter how much he'd like to watch the blood splatter across the wall with each incoming fist. He can't risk not seeing you again.
Yandere!Inmate who can't sleep the day before your meeting, shivering with excitement. He's been behaving well enough to earn a proper visit with you. He's not supposed to touch you, but he'll manage to sneak a hand over your thigh, gently caressing your skin with the fearful approach of someone handling the most fragile porcelain. Such an unbearable feeling; the scrutiny of the officers, the loud, brash voices of the other inmates, the obscene amount of security cameras. He wishes it could be just the two of you. The visits leave him drained and plagued by dreams of reunion. He can't take this much longer.
Yandere!Inmate who's finally gotten his furlough and can leave these damned walls for a couple of days. It's the only thing that gets him going, really, these small crumbles of freedom. You've offered to pick him up and provided him with an eventful schedule, which he readily and gleefully accepted, though he begged you to wait for his arrival instead. It's better if you're home, he explained impatiently. There's no telling how much self-control he has left. God, he's minutes away from making you his. The greed is spilling over.
Could be either [Yandere Prison] or [Yandere Delinquent Siblings]
It usually takes you, a cute Puppy Hybrid, a long time to finally get to sleep. You just have so much energy all the time. Your Wolf Hybrid bf does what he can to keep up with you. But sometimes it really seems like your energy is endless.
Eventually he just has to give up and gather you into his arms, his embrace a steel trap as he practically pins you down to the bed with his weight. The feel of you against him is enough to soothe you both and soon you melt into his hold. Always such a mess for him even when you act all hyper.
But sadly, it doesn’t last long. Just when your bf is so sure of his success that you’re finally falling asleep and he can get to bed early for once— that’s when they hit.
Zoomies.
You immediately begin to squirm in his hold. Wriggling around, bending unnaturally in order to get out of his embrace. Your tail thumps hard against the bed, hopeless whines leaving you as you get hit with a burst of energy and no way to release it. Wolf Hybrid bf curses under his breath, arms merely tightening around you.
“What do you think you’re doin’, ma? It’s almost one in the morning…” your bf groans, his old bones beyond tired.
All you can do is whine some more, your paws pushing at him, and silently begging he release you to run around and play. His long big huff blows your hair back and even as you shiver against him you continue trying to push back.
“C’mon, I wanna play. Play with me or somethin’, please,” you whine, buzzing so hard you fear you’re about to vibrate out of your own body.
Wolf Hybrid bf sighs heavily into your neck. A low rumble vibrates deep from his chest. Whether it’s from annoyance or fondness you aren’t sure but it doesn’t deter you. The need to mess around has you squirming and rubbing all up on your boyfriend.
“You wanna play, baby? Nah, you can just ride my cock till you keel over. That’ll tire you out,” he purrs, rolling onto his back and dragging your plump frame right on top of him. Looking even more content in this position.
Meanwhile, you’re yanking off his pants before he can even finish talking. Releasing a long whine as you sink down on his length, your core throbbing with pent up tension. Your bf lets you go at it, setting your own pace as you bounce on his dick. Using his chest to help ground you.
Hours and hours pass and you just can’t seem to stop. Your ass slapping loudly against his thighs as you ride him like a bull instead of the wolf he is. Bringing yourself to orgasm after orgasm, working yourself through your release. Unable to stop even as overstimulation begins to set in.
It sends your body to a whole other plane of existence, eyes permanently stuck back in your head, the pleasure that intense. Yet what was supposed to tire you out only seems to be riling you up further.
Your bf is an absolute drooling mess, his claws tearing at the sheets, and his snarls so loud they shake the floors. He lays there as still as he can, hoping you’ll get it all out of your system. But as he literally starts shooting blanks the next time you make him cum he starts to lose hope that’ll be the case.
It’s only once the sky rises up from the horizon and peaks in through your window do you finally sag down on top of your bf in exhaustion. Despite his own exhaustion his arms curl around you, holding you close and breathing in your powerful scent.
“Tired, pup?” He mumbles in your neck, already half-asleep himself.
All you can manage is a weak little yip before your eyes start fluttering closed. The both of you falling into a blissful sleep with your bfs cock still nestled snuggly up inside you.
Guide Dog reader...you should do more with the legally blind yan you got there, I wanna be a puppy and help others so badly now
I have another blurb with them funny enough, but I'd love to do even more with Guide Dog Reader because they're the biggest sweetie ever. Yay!! They get to help people all day! What? And they get paid for it too? How can life get any better for them?
They've trained hard for their job, but the resolve they've built up rocks like a raft in a raging storm when people besides their human ask for their assistance. They want to help everyone, but their human is their top priority.
Visually impaired Yan is ready to snap wrists when people try to pet their adorable puppy while they're on the job. Can't they see the vest Darling's wearing? As long as Darling is on the clock, they belong to Yan solely. Wouldn't be much longer before Puppy is theirs entirely.
Yan gives Darling the simplest tasks just to shower Puppy in praise and see that tail wagging.
-
VI Yan: Darling? Could you grab me my cup of water? I can't remember where I placed it...
Guide Dog Reader: Okay! :D
[Reader hands Yan the glass sitting on the table right next to them]
Guide Dog Reader: Here you go!
Yan: Oh, my- You're so quick! So kind of your employers to bless me with an angel like you!
Guide Dog Reader: Yay! Wait- I'm on the clock! [grabs their tail] No, Y/n! Save your excitement for when you get home!
Chance x Reader who is super pretty and he can’t keep his cool around her.
I love his story line but I’m imagining maybe he takes a bit longer to ask her about playing gng because holy fuck shes so cute and he doesn’t wanna fuck this up
She doesn’t mind tho and anytime she says something a little flirty his whole face erupts in red and he can’t get his usual flirty quips out.
He’s stuttering over his script more, trying not to redirect his eyes to her because he WILL get distracted by them.
By the end of his session, she’s praising him for his excellent writing and he’s just taking in the sound of her pretty voice. Did praise always sound this good?
And he says his signature line at the end, suggesting they move the real sheets, except a lot less smooth and shaky, but you’re still giving him those eyes.
God forbid she does cosplay, dressing up as some elf princess and he can’t keep his eyes off of her. Were milkmaid dresses always so…low cut?
And if they’re cosplaying in the bedroom, he will make her ride him, no questions asked. He needs to see her in all her glory, on top of him, naked, with the exception of some dangling gold jewelry from your cosplay
Her using gng language on him, or referring to him as the character he’s playing. Thanking her handsome knight for saving her by riding him until she sees stars.
He also likes showing her off, when she visits him dm’ing for some of his new friends, their jaws probably drop at the sight of her, he gets a little jealous until she greets him with a deep kiss on his temple.
🐾 helping u pick out ur collar in the morning. (u cannot convince me this man has not spent a fortune on getting u the prettiest collars ever)
🐾 definitely has ur collars on display in his office (not in view on his streams tho cause u doesn't want to out u like that unless ur chill w it)
🐾 "oh, is someone's tail wagging?" whenever u get excited
🐾 styling ur hair in the prettiest ways to match ur ears. especially likes to do puppy dog ears on days where ur not wearing ears
🐾 likes to have u sitting underneath his desk while he works. has a little pet bed underneath
🐾 going shopping in the pet isle with him and it being very obvious that yall are NOT buying shit for a dog. (chance stop having puppy try on multiple collars, ppl are starting to notice that ur a freak)
🐾 using the clicker out in public to get your attention and praise u
🐾 gets u chew toys to play with (makes sure their human safe first tho 🙏🙏)
🐾 definitely has a “property of chance” tag that he’ll switch out between your collars
🐾 going out in public and getting distracted just for him to draw you back to him with a simple “puppy” (“puppy, come back to me. what’s on your mind?”)
🐾 makes you “sit pretty” before getting permission for something (just sitting up straight on ur knees lol)
🐾 tugging on your leash when u sit under his desk
🐾 brings u back collars and ears all the time from cons
🐾 thumb constantly in ur mouth. loves to see your brain just shut off when you start sucking on it.
"Ooh, you want a different kind of tango? I'll give you what you want, lets see,"
he hums as he takes out his notes,
"Well, I could talk about all the sex demon and innocent healer ones, or the unwilling spouse to the dragon and the said dragons, or..."
blush creeps up onto his cheeks, his eyes darting from you to his notes as he articulates what he wants to say,
"God, the last one we did, where you were the Royal and I was your Knight? A-and you..."
he coughs, his fingers fidgeting with the paper as he swallows,
"pleasured me with your mouth while I say on your 'throne'...? Ugh, probably could've used a better word for that but um... I just love the ones where the would be power dynamics are switched? The dialogue that comes out of those always gets me so..."
he seems to catch himself in the middle of his ramble as his eyes shoot toward you,
"I... answered your question, I'm sure you don't need me to go into details..."
