as someone who grew up with a fear of getting in trouble, sylus is so comforting to me. he never assume your intentions. he wants to talk, he wants to ask you himself, and he wants to understand you clearly. sylus’s gentleness is like a warm touch that breaks me out of my anxiousness, and makes me realize that i am not that little girl who is in trouble anymore; i will never have to be afraid when i’m around him.
The version popularized by Freddie Aguilar omitted these lines, which signify a more active struggle against oppression. The commercialized version even relegated the caged bird to resort to tears (kulungin man ay umiiyak; iyak=crying), while the progressive version personifies resistance (kulungin man ay pumipiglas; piglas=struggling).
Here are the lines, which should be the coda of the song:
Kaysarap mabuhay sa sariling bayan
Kung walang alipin at may kalayaan
Ang bayang sinisiil, babangon, lalaban din
Ang silanga'y pupula, sa timyas ng paglaya
Rough English translation:
We live our lives to the full in our own country
If there are no slaves and there is collective freedom
An oppressed country, will rise up and fight
And with the break of a reddish dawn, savor the sweetness of victory
Hi, I kinda awkward here, it's my first ask but... can you write something about enypen and a skinny reader? I know you posted one about small chest but this time more like, small chest, small butt and thin thighs? I'm just really insecure about it. I'm not even that skinny but I really don't have any of those things so... I would appreciate if you could, thank you ❤
.ೃ࿔*:･its ok bby! im glad u asked. i hope this makes you at least a bit more confident. im insecure myself being on the taller/bigger side babes so its totally okay. 😚
.ೃ࿔*:･ paring: enhypen x fem!reader
⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ warnings: body worship, size kink, smut, dom!enhypen, sub!reader, body praise, possessiveness, manhandling, breast play, spanking (implied), thigh-gripping, nipple play, size difference, oral fixation (implied), rough sex (gentle tones), soft!dom tendencies, jealousy (implied), creampie (implied), filthy talk || word count: 834 || m.list
heeseung: he loves how delicate you are. he makes you sit in his lap during foreplay just so he can palm your tiny chest and tease how perfectly you fit against him. he’s obsessed with how his fingers wrap around your thighs completely when he’s eating you out, thumbs keeping your legs spread because you’re so easy to manhandle. when he’s fucking you from behind, he holds your whole ass in one hand and groans like you’re the hottest thing alive. h: “you’re so small, baby. you feel how easy it is for me to move you around? shit, look at you. takin’ this big cock like such a good girl, even with that tiny little body.” he loves how wrecked you get, how deep he reaches just from missionary. your size turns him feral.
jay: jay’s the kind who strips you slow and runs his hands down every inch of your body like he’s mapping it. he groans when he cups your chest, murmuring that it’s perfect for his mouth, then sinks down to kiss your thighs and tell you how they’re exactly the way he likes. your size brings out his protectiveness. and his obsession with control. he loves caging you against the mattress with his bigger frame, pinning your wrists down, whispering that no one else could handle you like this. j: “so tiny… this body’s mine, you hear me? don’t need anything big, baby. i’ll make you cum just like this. let me show you.” he loves making you feel beautiful, adored, and totally owned.
jake: jake’s obsessed with how small you are in his arms. when he fucks you, he keeps one hand on your waist and groans about how narrow it is, how he can wrap both hands around it. he nuzzles your neck and tells you you’re so fucking cute when you’re bouncing on top of him, tits barely jiggling, breathy moans spilling out. he always makes you feel safe, even when he’s wrecking you. j: “you’re so cute when you whine like that. feels good, huh? my cock making you feel full in that tiny little body?” and he’ll kiss you after, over and over, praising how pretty you look all stretched out.
sunghoon: sunghoon doesn’t always say it. but you see it. the way he stares when you undress, his fingers tightening around your hips like he’s trying not to lose it. he loves pressing up behind you, slipping one hand under your shirt to cup your small tits, the other dipping between your thin thighs with a low groan in your ear. sh: “this is all mine. no one else gets to see you like this.” he loves bending you over and watching your tiny ass bounce against him. loves marking your neck, your waist, your inner thighs. any place where he can remind himself that you’re his. you always feel so full on his cock, and he loves whispering it in your ear when you’re crying on his chest.
sunoo: sunoo is completely obsessed. he praises every inch of you like it’s his job. presses kisses to your chest, moaning about how pretty your nipples are, how soft your skin feels under his tongue. he drags his hands down your hips and sighs when they curve inward, fingers brushing over your thighs like he’s worshiping them. s: “you’re so pretty. so, so pretty. look how good you take me… even with that little body, you always let me in.” he likes it slow. sensual. he wants you to feel loved as much as fucked. afterwards, he wraps his arms around you and says he wouldn’t want your body to be any other way.
jungwon: jungwon’s dominant streak comes out hard when he’s reminded how small you are. he guides your hips with both hands when he’s fucking you, thumbs digging into your skin like he’s holding back. he likes holding your whole chest in his hands and licking your nipples until you’re whimpering. the smaller you seem under him, the more he wants to ruin you. jw: “you’re so fucking tight… look at that, can barely take me, huh? it’s okay, baby. i’ve got you. gonna make you feel so good.” he’s always careful after, rubbing your thighs and kissing your shoulders while whispering how perfect your body is for him.
niki: niki gets hard just from seeing how tiny your thighs are when you sit in his lap. he’s always squeezing your ass, slipping his hands under your shirt, nuzzling into your neck and teasing how easy it is to throw you around. he loves the contrast between your smaller chest and the way he gropes you like you’re everything. r: “fuck, you’re so hot. so small, and all mine. feels even better ‘cause you’re little, y’know? my cock fits perfect.” he’ll whisper the filthiest things in your ear while grinding against you, completely obsessed with the way you moan and beg for more. like his size is overwhelming you on purpose.
SUMMARY: after your ex shattered you and left you bleeding across the wreckage of your own heart, you thought you'd never be whole again. that is, until you stumble upon a strange website that leads you to the rabbit-masked man who sets you free— a man far closer than you ever imagined.
WARNING: kinktober. this story is HEAVY THEMED: mention of SA (NOT FROM HOON & NO GRAPHIC NARRATION), murders, low-key gore at some points (but nothing described), smut, unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy), masked sex, choking kink, missionary, riding, doggy, dirty talk, ex name’s kai (a fictional character invented), pet names (hoon, baby) lmk if more! NOT PROOFREAD.
a/n: this has been in my drafts since last kinktober lol 😜 also sorry for being inactive, i’m brain dead. lmk your thoughts and please LIKE & REBLOG to help an author out. HAPPY KINKTOBER 🩷
Kai’s name lingered in your chest like poison.
The night it happened replayed itself when you tried to sleep, when you showered, when you looked at yourself in the mirror.
His hands, his words, the way he broke you down until you were nothing but silence— that stayed.
You left him, of course you did, but walking away didn’t mean you were free. The bruises healed, your skin didn’t hold his fingerprints anymore, but inside you, the cracks ran deep.
You weren’t the same girl who laughed at Yunjin’s jokes or teased Sunghoon about his obsession with skating olympic.You didn’t have nights out with Karina anymore or late night studies with Jake.
You smiled, sometimes. You even laughed when you forced yourself. But it was never whole, and you knew they saw through it.
You knew they’d understand if you told them. Yunjin especially— she was fire, she would’ve burned Kai down for what he’d done.
But you couldn’t.
The words lodged themselves in your throat every time. Admitting it out loud felt like letting it happen all over again. So instead, you carried it alone.
You let them think you were healing from just a normal breakup. You let them believe that time was enough to wash away the pain.
At night, when sleep refused to come, you wandered through the internet like a ghost.
You stumbled into places you wouldn’t have dared months ago.
Forums where people poured out their pain, confessions typed out like wounds left open for strangers to see.
One night, you subscribed to one. Not to talk, no, the idea of typing your story made your fingers tremble,mbut to read.
And read you did.
Page after page of stories that mirrored yours in pieces: a hand too rough, a word too cruel, a night that left them shattered.
Some of them had clawed their way back to life while s ome were still buried under it, fighting to reach the surface.
You stayed silent, but you lingered. It was both suffocating and comforting to see you weren’t alone.
Until one thread caught your attention.
The title was nothing extraordinary, just another anonymous post. But the words inside were different, someone mentioned a site, a place they claimed had changed everything. They didn’t say much, just a link and a cryptic sentence: “He takes care of what no one else will.”
Your finger hovered over the link for what felt like forever. A hundred alarms screamed in your head, but something colder, darker, pushed you forward.
you clicked.
The page opened, and your screen bled black and red. The title at the top, jagged letters glowing faintly, read: The Purge.
It wasn’t flashy, not like the forums or the social media you knew. It was stark, stripped down, unsettling in its simplicity. A single promise ran across the screen like a vow carved into stone: He will take care of anything. And anyone.
Beneath that was a number and the picture of a rabbit-masked man. One of the ears was broken and its white paint was dirtied with blood streaks.
Mr. Rabbit.
Your heart thudded hard enough that you pressed a hand against your chest. This was insane, it was probably fake. Some sick joke… and yet…
Your phone felt heavier than usual as you typed the number into the dial pad. Your thumb hovered above the green call button, trembling. “Don’t,” you whispered to yourself, shaking your head. “Don’t be stupid. Don’t do this.”
But you pressed it anyway.
The line rang twice, then all you heard was silence. You thought for a second no one would answer, that you’d hung yourself on the hook of a dead line.
But then, a voice slid through, distorted, mechanical, yet with a strange cadence beneath it. “Name.”
Your throat went dry. “I— my name is Y/N.” You whispered it, your name raw on your tongue, and for a split second, the voice faltered.
It wasn’t obvious, just a pause, a hesitation, however, you caught it. He seemed… startled.
But then the voice steadied again, lower now, almost careful. “Tell me.”
Your breath trembled as you spoke “I- uhm…” you cleared your throat “I found this phone number on a website, and I thought maybe you could help me?”
A couple of beats passed before the voice repeated “Tell me.”
“My ex boyfriend.” You blurted out, and suddenly the words flowed out of your mouth with ease “I loved him, and I thought he did too.. but when he tried to go further I told him I wasn’t ready and he..”
He didn’t interrupt. He didn’t ask you to clarify. He just listened, the static of the altered tone wrapping aroyour words like it was absorbing them whole.
“He took what he wanted, and I just froze. I let him do that to me and now I just… I just wish he could suffer the same way I died a little that night.”
When you stopped, silence stretched long and suffocating.
“What’s his name?” He asked.
“Kai Young.” You thought he’d say something, maybe ask why you were calling, maybe mock you for believing in a site like this.
But he didn’t. His answer was low, “Consider him gone.”
And then the line went dead.
You sat there, staring at your screen, the dial tone humming like a ghost in your ear.
The phone slipped from your hand onto the sheets. Your heart was hammering so violently you thought you’d be sick.
You curled your fingers against the fabric of your bedspread, dragging in breath after breath, but nothing settled.
Did you really just do that? Did you just— did you just put a death sentence on him?
The thought made your stomach twist, but then another one followed, just as sharp, he deserves it.
You replayed Kai’s face in your mind, the way his eyes had narrowed that night, the way his lips had curled into that cruel smile, the way his hand had gripped your wrist until you thought it would break.
The disgust, the shame, the tears you swallowed down alone, suddenly, imagining him gone didn’t feel wrong. It felt… almost like justice.
Still, doubt crawled through you.
What if this was all fake? What if nothing happened? What if it was a scam?
You lay awake until the sky bled gray, phone clutched in your hand, waiting for something, anything, to happen.
🕸.
Days blurred together. You went to class, you saw Yunjin and Sunghoon, you laughed when they teased you, but underneath, you were restless.
You checked the news, scrolled through social media, searched his name more times than you could count.
Nothing.
Perhaps, Mr. Rabbit was really just a scam.
Until one evening, Yunjin’s voice cracked through your haze. “Did you see the news about Kai?”
Your head whipped up so fast it hurt. “What about him?”
She frowned, holding up her phone. “Apparently… he’s gone, like, disappeared. No one’s seen him in days, and people are saying he didn’t show up to work, his roommates don’t know where he is.”
Your chest hollowed out as her words blurred. You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to act confused, concerned. “Gone? What do you mean gone?”
“Exactly that,” she said, scrolling. “Police are looking, but… I don’t know. It’s creepy as fuck, someone can’t just disappear in thin air. But whatever— he was an ass. Not like anyone’s crying over him.” She laughed, but lightly, testing your reaction.
You smiled weakly, pretending to brush it off, while inside, your blood roared in your ears.
Later, when you were alone, you sat on your bed in the dark, staring at the black screen of your phone.
Your fingers twitched, tempted to call the number again, to hear that voice, to ask what happened.
You had made a call, and for the first time since that night, you weren’t powerless anymore.
Your fingers hovered over the call button again, heart racing like the first time, except now there was a strange anticipation curled up inside you.
You didn’t know why you wanted to hear his voice again, Mr. Rabbit’s, the distorted, mechanical one that had already carved its place into your memory.
Maybe it was because of the way his words had stuck, heavy and absolute.
Maybe it was because since that night, Kai had been nothing more than a ghost in the news. Whatever the reason, you pressed the button, and the line rang once before the same voice answered.
“Name.”
It was the same demand as before, but this time you breathed steadier. “It’s me, Y/N, I called because of my ex… remember?”
Silence, then that strange pause again, as if recognition had tightened around the voice. “Why are you calling again?”
You bit your lip, curling your knees to your chest on the bed. “I just… I wanted to know about him, bbout Kai.”
The silence stretched so long you thought he might hang up. But then, his voice came, heavy through the distortion. “He’s in a place where he can’t touch you anymore.”
Your breath shook as relief rushed over you, your shoulders dropping like you’d been carrying Kai’s shadow all this time. “So… it’s really over.” tears you didn’t know you’d been holding back rolled freely down your cheeks.
“Yes.” His tone didn’t waver, but there was something beneath it, something almost… gentle. “You don’t need to look over your shoulder anymore.”
You pressed your face into your knees, whispering, “Thank you.”
There was no dramatic answer, no indulgence in your gratitude. Just a steady command, stripped of anything but truth, “Focus on the people who love you. That’s where you’ll find yourself again.”
And then the line went dead, leaving you in the dark with only your racing heartbeat.
🕸.
Focus on the people who love you.
It should’ve been easy advice, but it felt like the hardest thing in the world.
Still, you tried. And strangely, in trying, you found yourself noticing Sunghoon more.
He’d always been around, quiet and steady, the one who didn’t push too hard but made sure you were never left alone in the corner of the room.
Since Kai’s disappearance, he’d lingered a little closer, his eyes on you more often, softer somehow. Perhaps, he was afraid you were grieving the memory of your ex boyfriend.
He didn’t know you were celebrating the death of a monster.
One afternoon, he caught you lingering outside the café near campus, scrolling absently on your phone. “You’ve been spacing out a lot lately,” he said, coming up beside you, his voice low enough that you almost jumped.
“I’ve just been… thinking,” you muttered, slipping your phone away.
He studied you for a moment, then asked, “Do you want to go out tonight? Just us. Maybe a movie or something.”
The suggestion caught you off guard. “A movie?”
His lips quirked, a faint smile ghosting across them. “Yeah. The cinema’s showing that horror flick everyone’s been talking about, I’ll even buy you popcorn.”
You laughed, light and unexpected, the sound strange in your own ears. “You’re really trying to bribe me with popcorn?”
“Is it working?” he teased, but the warmth in his eyes was genuine.
You agreed, and that evening you found yourself walking beside him through the glowing city streets, the air crisp and alive.
The theatre buzzed with chatter, neon signs flashing above the crowd. Sunghoon walked close enough that your shoulders brushed every so often, his presence grounding.
Inside, the lights dimmed and the screen came alive with screaming shadows. You lasted maybe twenty minutes before the movie had your pulse hammering. The villain’s mask, the sudden bursts of sound, the flickering lights— it was too much. You shifted in your seat, arms wrapping around yourself.
Sunghoon leaned closer, his whisper brushing against your ear. “You okay?”
You shook your head quickly. “I hate horror movies. Why did I even agree to this?”
His quiet chuckle made your stomach flip. “Because you trusted me.”
When another jump scare lit up the screen, you didn’t even think before curling into him, your body pressing against his arm, your face buried against his shoulder.
You felt the way he froze for a second, startled, before he relaxed, letting you cling to him. He shifted just slightly, his arm brushing against your back, steady, protective.
“Don’t worry,” he murmured softly, so soft it was almost lost under the screams from the speakers. “I’ve got you.”
You just stayed pressed against him, letting his warmth chase away the shadows that flickered too close in your mind.
When the credits finally rolled and the lights came up, you realized you hadn’t let go.
Your face heated as you pulled back quickly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”
Sunghoon shook his head before you could finish. “Don’t apologize. You can hold onto me whenever you want.”
Your chest tightened at the quiet sincerity in his tone. You looked down, fumbling with your bag, unsure how to answer.
But he didn’t push, didn’t demand anything of you. Instead, he just stood, stretching casually before offering his hand. “Come on. Let’s get some food before the night ends, I know a place.”
The way he said it, light and easy, made it simple to slip your hand into his.
His fingers curled around yours, steady and warm, and you didn’t let go.
That night, sitting across from him in a tiny diner as you picked at fries and listened to him tease you about hiding in his shoulder for half the movie, you felt something you hadn’t in so long.
Free. Not haunted, not broken, just… free.
Later, when he walked you home, he stopped in front of your door, his hands in his pockets, eyes lingering on you in the glow of the streetlamp. “You seem lighter,” he said softly, almost like he was afraid of breaking the moment.
“Maybe I am,” you admitted, your voice quiet but sure.
He smiled, the kind that reached his eyes, and leaned just a little closer. “Good. You deserve to feel that way.”
🕸.
It started with a kiss.
Not the reckless kind, not the kind that took without asking, but the quiet, trembling kind where his voice carried more weight than the touch itself.
After your third date, walking home side by side under the golden haze of the streetlamps, Sunghoon had stopped in front of your door.
His hand lingered by your wrist, not holding, just close enough to feel the warmth. He cleared his throat, his eyes darting between your lips and your gaze before he asked, softly but firmly, “Can I kiss you?”
Your heart stuttered at the question, at the gentleness of it.
The memory of Kai asking for nothing and taking everything, flashed sharp and ugly in your chest, and it made Sunghoon’s hesitation all the more precious.
You nodded, your voice barely a whisper, “Yes.”
The kiss wasn’t fire or frenzy.
It was slow, warm, like being wrapped in a blanket you hadn’t known you’d needed.
His lips pressed against yours with care, no rush, no pressure.
Just him, and you, and the quiet hum of the night around you.
When he pulled back, he smiled faintly, almost shy, as if he hadn’t been sure you’d let him. “Thank you,” he whispered.
Since then, everything with him had been slow, deliberate.
He didn’t push.
He made you laugh when you didn’t think you could anymore, he walked you home even when it meant going out of his way.andnhe even let you steal his hoodies when the wind turned cold, pretending not to notice when you buried your face in them because they smelled like him.
You weren’t in love yet, at least, you didn’t think so, but you loved spending time with him.
You loved how light you felt with him, like the chains had loosened, even if they hadn’t fallen off completely.
The weeks stretched on, filled with easy dates and late-night calls that left you falling asleep to the sound of his laugh.
You were learning to trust, slowly, carefully, like testing the temperature of water before stepping in.
He seemed to understand without you ever having to explain. He never made you feel rushed, never asked for more than you could give.
But the shadows of your past never fully left you.
It was a quiet afternoon when you sat on the couch, scrolling absently through the news.
A headline caught your eye, pulling you to stillness: Body of missing man found in lake, police investigating possible homicide.
Your breath caught as you tapped the article.
The details spilled across the screen: an old man, missing for days, had been found in the murky waters of a nearby lake. His body… destroyed.
They didn’t use many words, but the few they did were enough.
Brutal. Mangled. Nothing natural.
Your stomach churned and uou dropped the phone onto your lap, staring blankly at the wall. The first thought that stabbed through your mind was irrational, absurd, but impossible to ignore: Mr. Rabbit.
Your chest tightened, recalling the red and black glow of that website, the distorted voice on the phone, the way he had told you, “Consider him gone.”
You wondered if someone else had whispered their pain to that same voice, had asked for release from their demon, and now this old man had become the price.
Was that man a monster, too?
Had he hurt someone, ruined them the way Kai had ruined you? Was that why his body ended up at the bottom of a lake? Or… was it something worse?
Your phone buzzed suddenly, making you jump. Sunghoon’s name lit up the screen.
Hoonie: wanna get ice cream later? i’ll pick you up.
You stared at the message, trying to steady your breathing.
The contrast between the horror sitting heavy in your mind and the sweetness of his text almost made you dizzy. You typed back
You: yeah, i’d like that.
Later, as you sat across from him in a small parlor, the chill of chocolate chip melting over your tongue, you kept sneaking glances at him.
His smile was easy, his laugh soft when he teased you about getting a scoop on your nose. He leaned over to wipe it with a napkin, his touch light and brief, and your heart clenched.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked suddenly, tilting his head.
You blinked, startled. “Like what?”
“Like you’re trying to figure me out,” he said, his lips quirking into a faint smile. “You can ask me anything, you know.”
You shook your head quickly, forcing a laugh. “No, I’m just… thinking.”
He studied you for a moment longer, but he didn’t push. Instead, he reached across the table, his fingers brushing against yours. “Whatever it is… you can trust me. You know that, right?”
The sincerity in his eyes almost broke you.
You wanted to tell him. About Kai, about the phone calls and also about Mr. Rabbit.
But the words tangled in your throat, too heavy, too dangerous.
A little secret wouldn’t hurt, would it?
Instead, you just nodded, letting his hand rest against yours, steadying you in ways he didn’t even realize.
🕸.
The afternoon light at Sunghoon’s apartment spilled in pale gold through the curtains, softening the edges of everything. It was quiet except for the low hum of his washing machine, the one he’d joked about never knowing how to operate properly.
You’d offered to help because he was always the one looking after you — driving you home, buying dinner, walking on the side of the street where the cars passed — and for once you wanted to do something for him.
He’d smiled when you told him, brushed his thumb against your knuckles, and left you to it while he went to pick up takeout.
The basket of his laundry sat on the floor by your feet.
You crouched down, sorting shirts and hoodies, surprised at how dark his wardrobe was. Blacks, greys, navy.
Not unusual for him, he always wore muted colors, but in a pile like this, it looked almost uniform.
A flash of deep burgundy caught your eye in the heap.
At first you thought it was just a darker fabric, a wine-colored shirt maybe. But when you pulled it free, you saw the stain.
It ran across the hem like a smear, darker at the edges, dried but still visible.
You frowned. “Ketchup?” you murmured to yourself, bringing it closer. But the smell hit you before the thought could finish: not sweet nor tangy.
It was metallic, the scent clung to your nose, unmistakable. Blood.
Your stomach dropped. You held the shirt out at arm’s length, staring at it.
The mark wasn’t small, not like a nosebleed or a kitchen cut. It had soaked into the fabric.
You tried to reason with yourself. Maybe he’d hurt himself badly. Maybe he’d been cooking meat. Maybe…
You placed the shirt gently back in the basket, hands trembling.
The hum of the machine suddenly seemed louder. The apartment felt bigger, emptier, like the walls were listening.
When Sunghoon finally came back, the door swung open and the smell of food rushed in with him. “Hey,” he called lightly, balancing two bags in his arms. “Hope you’re hungry, they gave me extra dumplings.”
You straightened up from the laundry, your hands rubbing together to hide their unsteadiness and joined him in the living room “You’re back.”
“Yeah,” he said, setting the bags on the counter. He glanced at you, his expression softening. “Everything okay?”
You hesitated. “I… was doing your laundry, like I said I would.”
He smiled, loosening the knot of one bag. “I usually just throw it all in without sorting. You’re a lifesaver.”
Your throat felt tight. “There was a shirt.”
He paused mid-motion, looking up. “A shirt?”
“It was…” You swallowed hard, gripping the edge of the counter. “It was stained dark red. I thought it was ketchup at first, but it wasn’t. It smelled like…” You trailed off, your voice catching.
“Blood?” he finished for you, his tone calm.
You blinked at him, surprised. “Yeah.”
For a moment he just stood there, his hands still on the takeout bag, his face unreadable. Then he sighed softly, almost like he’d expected this. “Right… That.”
Your heart thudded. “That? Sunghoon, what—”
He straightened up, wiping his palms on his jeans before turning fully to you. “I cut myself.” His voice was steady, even, like he’d rehearsed the answer.
“Cooking, I sliced my palm open on a knife a couple nights ago. Bled everywhere. I didn’t even realize I threw that shirt in the hamper without washing it first.”
You stared at him, searching his face. “You cut yourself cooking.”
“Yes,” he said firmly, walking toward you. His expression softened when he saw the look in your eyes. “I’m okay, it wasn’t serious. I should’ve been more careful.”
You looked down, your fingers twisting together. “It was a lot of blood.”
“It felt like a lot at the time.” He reached out, brushing his fingers against your arm. “I wrapped it, went to the hospital and got it sorted. Do you want to see?”
You blinked up at him. “See what?”
“My hand.” He held it out to you, palm up.
You hesitated before taking it. His skin was warm, the faint ridge of a healing cut running diagonally across the center, just starting to scar.
“It’s fine now,” he said quietly. “Promise.”
You traced the line with your thumb without thinking, the roughness of the healing skin catching against you. “You didn’t tell me.”
“I didn’t think it mattered.” His voice lowered, something like guilt creeping in. “I didn’t want to worry you. You’ve been through enough already.”
The words hit you harder than you expected. You looked up at him, your throat tightening. “I just… when I saw the stain, I thought…” You shook your head, unable to finish.
Mr. Rabbit. The lake. The old man. Kai.
Sunghoon’s brow furrowed as he squeezed your hand gently. “Thought what?”
You forced a shaky laugh, stepping back. “Nothing. It’s stupid, I just freaked myself out.”
He studied you for a long moment, his gaze steady. “I’d never hurt you,” he said softly. “You know that, right?”
“I know.” The answer came out before you could stop it, and you realized it was true.
Whatever the shirt meant, whatever the stain had been, you didn’t feel fear in his presence “I know,” you repeated, quieter.
His shoulders relaxed. “Good.” He let go of your hand slowly, as if he didn’t want to, and gestured to the counter. “Come on. Food’s getting cold, and I got your favorite.”
You tried to smile, to push the heaviness from the room. “You always get my favorite.”
“Someone’s gotta spoil you,” he teased, but there was a warmth under his words that wrapped around you.
Later, as you sat cross-legged on his couch eating dumplings, you kept sneaking glances at his palm.
The cut was there, real, just like he’d said. Accidental.
But the image of the shirt, the dark stain, the metallic scent, stayed in your mind. And behind it all, the mask from the website— the rabbit with its hollow eyes.
You wondered if maybe you’d been too quick to draw lines between things.
Maybe the world wasn’t as tangled as it felt in your head.
Or maybe you were just starting to see the edges of something you weren’t ready to understand.
🕸.
The headlines had become routine, though no less chilling: another disappearance, another corpse unearthed, another nameless shadow taking lives.
It had been every five days, almost like clockwork. Men and women both, none spared, none seemingly connected until you looked closer.
Each had something in common, cruelty whispered about them, crimes that had gone unpunished. Whispers of abuse, theft, betrayal.
And your mind, despite all your attempts to silence it, always drifted back to the rabbit mask, to that metallic-stained shirt, to the mystery you’d only brushed against.
That morning, you’d woken in Sunghoon’s bed, his arm heavy around your waist, his breath warm against the back of your neck.
He was still asleep, his face so peaceful it almost mocked the chaos outside.
You shifted carefully, trying not to wake him, and reached for your phone on the nightstand.
The notification blinked from the NEWS APP you had downloaded. A new article.
Your eyes scanned quickly, breath catching as you read the lines. A man in his mid-thirties, found in an alleyway. Cause of death suspected poisoning from rat poison. Victim was under investigation for repeated domestic abuse of wife and children.
The words crawled across your skin like ice. A shiver passed through you as you sat up in bed, clutching the phone, careful not to wake Sunghoon.
The pattern was undeniable now. Each corpse was marked by justice delivered outside of courts, outside of law.
Justice meted out by someone who had no patience for due process.
Someone like Mr. Rabbit.
You slipped out of bed, your bare feet soft against the floorboards, and shut yourself in the bathroom.
The pale blue tiles reflected your unease as you scrolled to that number you weren’t supposed to have memorized but did anyway.
The burner line. The one Mr. Rabbit had on his website that was every victim’s death sentence… or freedoms. With shaky hands, you pressed call.
You wanted to ask him if he had been the craftsman of all those murders. You wanted to tell him to be careful, after all, he had been the one to set you free from your monster.
The dial tone buzzed in your ear. Before you could hear the other side, a vibration hummed not from your phone, but somewhere else in the apartment.
Your head snapped up, eyes wide. The sound was faint, muffled, coming from outside this room.
You took the phone away from uour ear abruptly, with your heart hammering, and cracked the bathroom door.
The vibration came again, steady, and you followed it down the short hallway, barefoot, holding your breath.
Past the living room, past the half-empty takeout boxes on the counter. To the door of his study.
The sound was clearer here. Inside.
You pushed the door open with trembling fingers. The study smelled faintly of ink and dust, the blinds drawn tight.
On the desk, papers stacked too neatly, his laptop shut.
But the noise wasn’t from there.
You followed it to the lower drawer of the cabinet, and with a trembling tug, slid it open.
Your blood went cold.
A burner phone lay inside, vibrating against the wood with your number flashing.
Beside it, carefully placed, was a mask. White, blood-stained and with a broken ear, black hollow eyes that stared straight through you.
Mr. Rabbit.
Your throat dried, a sound dying in your chest.
“You weren’t supposed to see that.”
You spun, gasping, the drawer still open, mask glinting in the dim light.
Sunghoon stood there, hair mussed from sleep, but his eyes were sharp and awake, watching you like a predator who had just been cornered.
“I—” your words stumbled out, shaking. “You… you’re Mr. Rabbit?”
He tilted his head slightly, a wry smirk ghosting his lips. “So it seems.”
The air between you crackled. “You… you killed those people,” you whispered.
His eyes held yours, unflinching. “Yes.” No denial. No hesitation. Just the word, low and certain. “And I won’t apologize for it.”
Fear tangled with disbelief inside you, coiling hot in your stomach. You pressed back against the desk, the mask looming in your peripheral vision. “You’re a murderer.”
He stepped forward slowly, careful, almost tender in his movements. “I am. But not to you.”
Your pulse roared in your ears. “How do I know that?”
“Because everything I’ve done, every night I’ve gone out—” he stopped just inches from you now, his voice hushed, intimate. “It was to deliver justice to those who never got it.”
Your chest heaved, conflicted, torn.
He reached out, cupping your cheek with a hand that felt steady, but cold.
His thumb brushed your skin, grounding you.
“You saw what Kai did to you. That night you called i swear I went mad.” His lips curved, his voice a whisper meant only for you. “I enjoyed hurting him, cutting him into pieces he had broken you in. Every moment of his sufferance. Every second of his fear.”
Your breath hitched sharply. A part of you recoiled, another part ignited.
His words were wrong, horrifying, yet your body betrayed you, heat curling in your chest at the way he said it, at the devotion in his tone.
“You’re insane,” you murmured weakly.
His smirk deepened, but his touch gentled. “Maybe. But I’d rather be insane with you knowing the truth than lie to you any longer.”
The air grew heavy, thick with something darker than fear. He leaned closer, his breath brushing your lips. “I’d never hurt you,” he whispered again, desperate this time. “Trust me.”
And for reasons you couldn’t explain, you did. Against all reason, all instinct, you believed him.
The drawer with the mask remained open, a silent witness, but when his lips finally pressed against yours, all you could feel was him.
His kiss was urgent, hungry, desperate for you to choose him despite everything you’d learned. Your fingers clutched his shirt, pulling him closer, and he groaned into your mouth, relief breaking through him like a tide.
He pressed you back against the desk, kissing you harder, teeth grazing your lower lip. His hands slid down your sides, pausing every few inches, as though asking silent questions with every touch. “Can I?” he breathed against your neck.
“Yes,” you whispered before you even realized it, your body aching for him.
Clothes began to fall away, piece by piece, the heat between you growing unbearable as he guided you back into his bedroom.
He stripped you gently, reverently, murmuring your name between kisses as though he couldn’t believe you were still here, still letting him touch you after what you’d just discovered.
His lips trailed fire across your collarbone, down to your chest, his tongue circling a nipple as his hands pinned your hips to the sheets.
You gasped, arching into him, the sound tearing from your throat. “Sunghoon…”
He looked up at you, his pupils blown wide, lips slick. “Say it again.”
“Sunghoon.”
“Again.”
Your voice trembled, but you obeyed, moaning his name as his hand slipped lower, teasing at the edge of your panties before sliding beneath them.
His fingers found you wet, and a dark chuckle rumbled in his chest. “Fuck… even knowing what I am, you still want me like this?”
You couldn’t lie, couldn’t deny it. “Yes,” you gasped, clutching at his shoulders.
His mouth crashed back to yours, tongue demanding, claiming, while his fingers worked you open, curling deep until your hips jerked helplessly against him. “That’s my girl,” he murmured into your mouth. “So sweet for me.”
It felt so different from when your body was frozen in fear at Kai’s demand. Sunghoon wasn’t demanding, he was just lost in making you feel good.
“Mh fuck baby, you’re so tight.” He tried to add a third finger, your body tightening around his digits “Your sweet little pussy is clenching around my fingers.”
The dirty talking made your orgasm reach fast and with just one curl of his fingers, you were reaching your peak.
He let you ride it out, gently holding your body so you wouldn’t convulse too much.
He laid you down gently, his body hovering over yours, eyes searching your face. “Last chance,” he whispered, breath ragged. “Tell me no, and I’ll stop.”
“Don’t stop,” you begged, nails digging into his back. “Please, Sunghoon. I want you.”
That was all it took.
He tore his clothes off, his skin hot against yours, his cock hard and heavy as it pressed against your thigh. He kissed you again, messy and feverish, before pushing inside you with a groan that vibrated through your bones.
You had realised why he had used three fingers to stretch you. He was so thick, filling you so good.
The stretch burned, but it was exquisite, grounding you to the reality of him, of this moment. He buried himself to the hilt, forehead pressed to yours, whispering curses under his breath. “Fuck… so tight… I could cum just like this.”
He moved slowly at first, deep thrusts that made you gasp and cling to him, before his pace quickened, urgency overtaking him.
Each thrust drove a whimper from your throat, your body meeting his in desperate rhythm.
“You feel that?” He growled, his hand gripping your throat lightly, not choking, just holding. “That’s me.” his other hand pressed down your stomach, feeling the bulge poking out “That’s me fucking you brainless, ain’t it right, baby?”
Your back arched, your nails clawing down his chest, your voice breaking as pleasure built inside you. “Yes—God, yes.”
His thrusts grew rougher, sweat dripping from his temple, his eyes never leaving yours. “Say you trust me,” He demanded, his tone ragged.
“I trust you,” You cried, and his rhythm faltered for a second, his jaw clenching, overcome by your words.
That was enough to send you spiraling. The coil snapped, pleasure ripping through you, white-hot and consuming.
You cried out his name, your body shuddering beneath him, walls tightening around him until he cursed loudly, thrusting harder, chasing his own release.
With a final deep thrust, he groaned, spilling inside you, collapsing against your chest as his breath came in harsh, uneven pants.
His lips pressed to your shoulder, your neck, anywhere he could reach, as if to reassure himself you were still there.
Minutes passed before he lifted his head, sweaty hair falling into his eyes. “I told you,” he whispered, voice raw. “I’ll never hurt you.”
And though the mask still lay waiting in the other room, silent proof of who he really was, you found yourself whispering back, “I know.”
🕸.
The room was dim and heavy with the warmth of both your bodies, the sheets tangled at your waists and the faint scent of sweat and skin still hanging in the air.
The blinds were drawn tight, keeping out the world beyond this room, and the only sound was the low rhythm of Sunghoon’s breathing beside you. His chest rose and fell, slow but uneven, as if his thoughts weighed more than the air he pulled in.
You lay on your side, propped up slightly on an elbow, watching the faint lines of his profile in the darkness.
His hair clung damp to his forehead, his eyes half-closed but restless. He didn’t look like a monster, not scary like Kai— he looked like a man who hadn’t slept properly in years, a man with shadows under his eyes and something buried in his chest.
“Sunghoon,” you whispered softly.
His eyes slid open, heavy and dark, and turned to meet yours. “Mmh?”
You hesitated, your fingers tracing idle shapes against his shoulder. “Tell me.”
He frowned faintly. “Tell you what?”
“All of it.” Your voice was quiet but steady, even though your heart was hammering. “How you started… why you started. What this is.”
For a long moment, he was silent. His gaze flicked away, toward the ceiling, and he exhaled slowly, his hand covering his mouth like he was thinking of how to shape the words. When he spoke, his voice was low, rough-edged.
“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” he said, staring past you at nothing. “The first time… I didn’t even plan it. I saw a headline about a little girl, she was seven and hee stepfather had been—” his jaw tightened, “He’d been hurting her for years. And he walked free. Technicality, that’s what the article said.”
You stayed quiet, watching his face as he spoke.
“I saw him one night, outside a bar,” Sunghoon continued, his voice more distant now, like he was telling you a story he’d rehearsed in his own head. “I knew his face from the news. He was laughing… laughing, like he hadn’t destroyed a child. Like he wasn’t a monster. I don’t even remember deciding, I just followed him… and he didn’t make it home.”
You swallowed hard, the sheets tightening in your fingers. “And after that?”
“After that,” he said, eyes finally meeting yours again, “I couldn’t stop.” He exhaled a sharp breath through his nose. “Every headline, every story, every name. I found them. The ones who slipped through the cracks, he ones no one punished. I became… Mr. Rabbit. A mask, a name and a ghost.”
His voice dropped, softer now. “I opened the website to help the souls this world crushed, to help those who deserved a fighting change and weren’t given one.” Your throat felt tight, your voice thin. “And me?”
“When I heard your voice and your name that night… I saw white,” he said immediately, leaning closer, his hand sliding to the back of your neck. His thumb rubbed circles into your skin like he was trying to calm you, but you could feel the tremor in it. “I couldn’t believe he did that to you, and you hadn’t told a soul. I doubt Yunjin knew. So i promised myself that I would protect you from then on.”
You closed your eyes briefly, trying to breathe through the weight of his confession. The words echoed in the room like a storm had passed through and left only silence.
After a long pause, you murmured, “The shirt I found in the laundry basket, the dark one, stained red.”
His hand stilled against your neck.
“You said you’d cut yourself cooking,” you continued, eyes opening to search his. “Is it true?”
He stared at you for a moment, unreadable, then gave a short, humorless laugh. “You’re sharper than I hoped you’d be.”
“Don’t,” you said quietly. “Just tell me.”
He turned onto his back, dragging a hand over his face, staring at the ceiling again. “It wasn’t cooking that night. The man I was after— he was strong. He’d beaten his wife half to death before and she was too scared to testify. I cornered him, but he got the knife from me before I finished it. Took a tentative swing. That’s where the scar came from.”
You reached for his hand, pulling it gently into the light from the bedside lamp. “I can assure you he is in worse shape.” His palm was still faintly marked by the wound, a thin pale line running diagonally across the skin.
You traced it with your fingertip, slow and deliberate. “You could’ve died,” you murmured.
“I didn’t.” His voice was flat, but there was something softer beneath it, like he wasn’t used to anyone worrying. “He still ended up in hell.”
Your chest tightened at the way he said it, matter-of-fact, like he was explaining something as normal as taking out the trash. You looked at his face, at the tension in his jaw, the faint tremor in his fingers.
“I don’t know how to feel,” you whispered.
“I don’t expect you to,” he said immediately, rolling to face you again. His hand came up to cup your cheek, his eyes searching yours desperately. “I don’t need you to forgive me yet, I’m sorry I lied.”
He gulped “But you know why I can’t stop.”
You let out a shaky breath. “And you’re sure no one knows?”
“No one,” he said firmly. “Not the cops, not the people on that website, not anyone but you.” He brushed his thumb against your lips. “And if you want to leave, you can. Right now, I won’t stop you.”
You stared at him for a long time, your heartbeat loud in your ears. You thought of Kai, of the nights you’d woken up shaking from dreams of his hands.
You thought of Mr. Rabbit, of the words consider him gone, and the strange relief you’d felt. And you thought of Sunghoon, lying here now, looking at you like you were the last good thing he had left.
You reached up slowly, your fingers sliding into his hair, and whispered, “I’m still here.”
His breath hitched, his eyes fluttering closed. “Why?” he asked softly, almost like he didn’t believe it.
“Because I trust you,” you murmured, surprising even yourself with the words. “Because I know you won’t hurt me.”
For the first time since his confession, his face softened. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to yours, his breath shuddering out. “I won’t, I swear.”
The tension bled out of him like air from a balloon, his body curling into yours, one arm sliding around your waist as if to anchor himself.
You closed your eyes, your fingers still tracing the scar in his palm. “You’ve saved me Sunghoon, I owe you more than ,anything.”
🕸.
Sunghoon had been looking for you for nearly an hour.
He had gone to the grocery shop, but when he called you to tell you he was on his way back with your favourite snack, you hadn’t answered.
Now, he knew he didn’t need to worry, you were safe in his apartment… still, his sixth sense told him something wasn’t quite right.
The apartment was silent except for the steady thud of his boots on the floorboards. Every room he entered was empty, every whisper of your presence deliberately erased. When his phone buzzed in his pocket, he pulled it out with a sharp breath, irritation laced with worry as your name flashed on the screen.
He answered. “Where are you?”
Your voice came through, low and steady, threaded with something he couldn’t name. “Let’s play a game, Mr. Rabbit.”
The nickname hung in the air like a ghost. His jaw clenched, every muscle in his body going still. “What are you doing?”
You chuckled softly. “You’ll have to find out. I left you a riddle, if you’re as clever as you say you are, you’ll find me.”
He exhaled, half-amused despite himself. “You want to play with me, huh?”
“I want to see if you’re still good at finding what hides in the dark,” you replied, your voice silk and smoke. “Clue number one: I’m where secrets sleep, where screams are quiet and the air is cold.”
The line went dead.
He lowered the phone, staring at it for a moment, and then his lips curved in that slow, knowing smirk of his.
You were testing him. A challenge, one he already knew the answer to before you finished speaking.
He moved through the apartment with the deliberate pace of a hunter who already knew where his prey had gone. His hand found the doorknob to the basement and paused, feeling the faint chill that seeped through the crack.
When he opened the door, a single dim bulb cast long shadows across the steps. And there you were, waiting at the bottom.
You stood in the center of the room, barefoot on the concrete floor, the flickering light catching on the white rabbit mask that hid your face.
A robe hung loosely from your shoulders, the fabric sliding down to reveal glimpses of skin.
For a moment, he just stood there, silent. His eyes, sharp and unreadable, traveled from your mask to your bare legs, to the soft rise and fall of your chest.
You tilted your head slightly, your voice muffled but playful through the mask. “Welcome to my warren, Mr. Rabbit.”
He descended the stairs slowly, one hand sliding along the rail. “You’ve been busy, I see,” He murmured, his tone almost reverent. “What is this?”
“I told you,” you said softly, stepping closer. “A game.”
The robe fell from your shoulders, pooling at your feet. You were left in nothing but white lace and the mask. The air seemed to crackle between you, thick and charged.
He stopped a few feet away, his breath caught halfway between a laugh and a sigh. “You’re going to kill me one day,” he said quietly.
You smiled beneath the mask and even though he could not see it, he noticed it from your tone. “Maybe.”
You took his hand and guided him toward the worn sofa in the corner. “Sit,” You commanded, your tone firm in a way that made something flicker behind his eyes.
He obeyed, still wearing that infuriating, half-smug expression that always seemed to challenge you. His hands rested on his knees, waiting, patient.
You moved closer, your fingers finding the hem of his shirt. “You always take control,” you murmured. “Not tonight.”
His lips curved, amused. “Is that so?”
You pulled his shirt over his head, letting your fingers trail down the hard planes of his chest, brushing his happy trail.
His breath hitched slightly when your hands slid lower, your touch deliberate and slow. You leaned close enough for your voice to brush against his ear. “You like it when I play with you, don’t you?”
He didn’t answer. His gaze locked on the mask covering your face, something dark flickering behind his eyes.
When you straddled his lap, his hands instinctively moved to your hips, gripping just enough to remind you of who you were dealing with.
“Now, I am offended that you got my clue so fast.” You murmured, one hand working his zipper open and freeing his already aching cock.
You pumped him lazily, just enough to enjoy the way his breath itched “You have to do more to try and out win a murdered.” He replied.
“Well,” You slid your panties to the side and slowly sank down on him, your moan muffled from the mask “I just have to learn from the best.”
Your movements were deliberate, slow in a teasing way. Sunghoon bit his bottom lip, his hips unconsciously thrusting upwards to get more of you.
“Do I turn you on?” You laughed mockingly, “I bet you had fantasies of me wearing this mask, of me being your Mrs. Rabbit.”
But then, suddenly, his fingers shifted to the edge of your mask. “You shouldn’t wear this,” he said softly. “It doesn’t belong to you.”
Before you could protest, he slipped it off.
And instead of setting it aside, he slid it over his own face. The stained white rabbit stared back at you, faceless now, only his voice remaining .
“You want to be Mrs. Rabbit?” he asked, his words a growl that seemed to vibrate in the space between you. “Then show me you mean it.”
The air seemed to thicken around you, your pulse hammering as he rose from the couch. In one motion, he switched your positions, pressing you down onto the worn cushions. His strength wasn’t harsh, just commanding.
“Still in control?” he murmured against your neck, his breath hot.
You tried to speak, but your voice caught somewhere between defiance and need as he gripped your hips and started thrusting in you at full force. Pulling back just to slam back all the way in.
He laughed softly, the sound echoing behind the mask, both terrifying and intoxicating.
You could feel his heartbeat through his chest where it pressed against yours, fast and uneven.
“Holy shit,” he groaned, his hand wrapping around your neck, not to choke, but to let you see who was in control. “You have found your kink, uh?”
You rolled your eyes, “You’ve ruined my game.” In response, his free hand came down to thumb your clit, making you arch your back.
“That’s what I thought.” He murmured, slowing his thrusts as he turned you around. Your hands gripped the side of the sofa as his strong arms brought your ass up in the air.
His palm connected with your cheek, making you moan at the sting “Fuck, you’re so filthy.” he cursed, gripping your hips to fuck you from behind.
The room was filled with broken moans and heavy breaths, his balls slapping against your skin.
“Mh! Harder Hoon, please.” At your plea, he gripped your hair and brought you up against his chest “As you wish.”
His thirsts grew errantic, fast and deep, making you see stars.
Your eyes rolled back while one of your hands sneaked down to circle your clit, making you clench around him “Fuck.” He groaned.
“I’m so close,” you announced, your other hand squeezing your breast through the fabric of your lingerie as he thrust a couple of more times before you were shattering on him.
“A-ah.” You breathed out brokenly as he fucked you to overstimulation, your body buzzing with the orgasm “Stop.”
“One second.” He breathed out, his own peace faltering as he reached his peak. His grip was bruising on your hips as he thrust one last time before cumming inside you with a low groan.
He slowed down until he stopped, slipping out of you.
Sunghoon sighed out contentedly as he collapsed beside you, taking the rabbit mask off.
He held you close to his chest, pressing a kiss to uour sweaty forehead “Did you like my game?” you asked, your voice small from the aftermath.
“I loved it,” he reassured “And now you are officially my Mrs. Rabbit.”
SYNOPSIS: your husband wants to cover you in precious jewels, and only precious jewels, while you record one of your many passionate nights together.
BE WARNED: porn no plot, recorded sex, marathon sex, use of unconventional toys, inappropriate use of jewellery as a cock ring, overstimulation, denied orgasm, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, marriage, teasing, switch!sylus, messy sex for you beautiful freaks
A/N: everyone deserves a husband as devoted (and deliciously, pussy-throbbingly freaky) as sylus
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!
Your husband loves to spoil you.
He always showers you in luxury and opulence just because he can. Just because he wants to see you radiating. Like you are now.
The lights are dim but bright enough to see your skin glisten from all that body oil he’s massaged deep into you. Just to make you shine. The jewels he just bought you (literally less than a day ago) are now being modelled on your skin as accessories to the centrepiece: you, obviously.
There’s a camera in his wedding band adorned hand, old and vintage. The kind that can only make tapes and can never be intercepted by unwanted eyes. Its lenses record what the two of you will only see.
The best part about all this is his cock plunged deep in you, with sparkles emeralds and rubies wrapped almost tight around his base.
“Sy…” You croon at him, smiling for the camera while your jiggling titties move forcefully enough to make your diamond necklace chime.
“Yes?” Sylus purrs so deep you’d assume he’s the feline between you two. Sweat is dripping down his neck, down his chiselled core and right down to his jewel constricted length. So damn handsome you can’t stop staring.
You can’t remember how long the camera’s been on for. Hours, perhaps?
Your heels, stiletto heels sharp at the edges, dig into hips the deeper he goes just enough to make him hiss. He’s watching his cock slip in and out of your weeping cunt, creaming a spiral of your whipped cum around his shaft, like soft serve ice cream.
It’s all worth the pain to see so much glamour on his beautiful wife.
“So wet,” You’re slurring your words, drunk on him and the sparkles that emanate from your jewellery. A shaky hand reaches out to him as your lust-curved lips twist into a saccharine grin. “Gimme. I wanna see you.” The camera feels just as heavy as the jewellery covering your wrists when he give it to you.
Through the lens, there’s a haze from the dimmed warm lights forming some hind of halo around his body. His signature jewellery, silver and speckled with rubies and natural cut diamonds, bounces on his skin and gleams brightly, making him look like he’s in a 90’s porno.
His voice doesn’t make it any better either. He’s real loud in his demeanour and his expression. Eyebrows are crunching, lips are curving into pouts and half-asses smirks all too distracted by your goddess pussy squeezing and milking him for all he’s worth.
Moans slip from your lips recklessly as he picks up the pace, skin slapping skin as your bodies collide in hot, lewd squelches. His cock’s draaaaaaging its way through your cunt, leaving its mark in your cunt to the point where you can memorise each vein without having to look.
“Can you hear how messy we’re getting, sweetie? Listen.” He’s completely drunk on your pussy. “So noisy. So us.”
You can barely hear the noises coming from your cunt since the bed is practically screaming from how roughly you move together. The headboard’s banging the wall threatening to split in half, the mattress is squelching from the how many times your cum’s soaked into the black silk sheets beneath you.
It’s all too good.
He’s pounding you faster and faster until his cock slips out, grinding on your swollen clit like he’s not aware that he isn’t in you anymore.
“Sy, baby, put it back in,” You whine, whining your hips to guide his cock back into (it doesn’t work). Your cries must be going to deaf ears because he’s still grinding up to your clit like his life depends on it.
“Of course, my love,” The smoothed jewels constricting his cock slide up and down between your swollen folds before finally, finally, slipping back into you in one swift thrust.
It just slips in and out of you with ease. The routine’s remained consistent for years, as strong as your marriage is. You’ve studied each other well enough to be on a PhD level, you rarely need to utter a word because you both already know what you’re thinking.
His back is well accustomed to your nails marking scars into his skin and your waist and hips are equally as familiar to his relentless grip and the tightness of his arms wrapping around you. You don’t even have to warn him that your orgasm is about to come— he’s already praising you as you do it.
“Let me take it off, sweetie.” He begs, rubbing circles into your hips. Drool is dribbling down his chin as his eyes haze over. Waves of intense pleasure wash over him, his heavy balls are strung up so tight that he can just hear the pleas for release bubbling in his core.
“I’ve been so good, so well behaved. I— oh my fuck— I didn’t rip it off with my hands.” He’s heeling over, pushing your legs up until the bend and squish your spit-slick tits together. “‘ve made you cum so much you can barely think straight. Don’t I deserve to cum with you?”
You turn your head away, still panting and moaning strings of curses with his name. Looking at that desperate gaze might just make you give in. You can feel him throbbing inside you, practically begging to cum so much that he’s leaking small pearls out his swollen tip.
How did this start?
Sylus, your powerful, terrifying husband, was taunting you. Nothing new, really. After years of marriage, you would think you’d be used to this behaviour.
You're lying to yourself if you said yes.
He still knows how to irritate you. Endearingly, lovingly, annoyingly.
“How about you use a cock ring on me?” He had suggested hours earlier after parading his confidence in making you cum multiple times before he can. Which he has proven to be true. Multiple times. You had retorted saying you’ve had him slip many times before so that brought about his suggestion.
You wrapped a bracelet encrusted with diamonds and rubies around the base of his shaft tight enough to make him feel how hard he is but not enough to hurt him and got to work. He was fine the first few rounds, but now he’s lost his grip.
The only ‘downside’ is that you aren’t letting him take it off.
“You do,” You nod and pout, still hot and buzzing. You’re intoxicated on his cock, thoughts slipping by as you try to keep a grip on them just enough to speak coherently. “But you wanted this, didn’t you?”
“Uh-huh.” Yeah, your husband is gone.
“So stick with it.”
“So mean.” Sylus whines, rutting into your cunt. “Won’t even let me stuff you just the way you like it.” His hips snap into yours faster and deeper with this angle, building up pressure by kissing your cervix over and over with his tip. “Fine. Keep me nice ’n hard so I can make you cum again and again, yeah?”
Of course, he will always find light in a ‘tough’ position and make sure you both deal with the torture.
“It feels much bigger when it’s all tied up like this, doesn’t it?” Sylus mouths your neck with wet smooches, pressing his weight onto you. “Or maybe you’re squeezing tighter. I love it either way.”
High-pitched moans flow right into his ears in bliss. The camera’s pointing up to the chandelier-spotted ceiling, shaking as your body tenses from your — you’ve lost count, to be honest — nth climax.
“Love you so so much,” You grab his face with a free hand, pulling him down for a kiss. The diamond on your ring twists round your finger as you move until it grazes his cheek to his ignorance. “I love you— mmph— so— ahh— Sylus, stop kissing me!”
“No,” He moans as your lips smack together, tilting his head to meld himself deeper into your lips. His hips roll into yours in waves, not slowing down even as you recover from your recent climax. “I…” mwah. “Love…” mwah. “You.”
“Love you so much— ahh, fuck.” He drags his tongue across your cheek, savouring the taste of your pleasure-induced tears and the cherry wine you had together hours ago. “Adore you too much, sweetie. Let your husband worship you.”
There’s no point in arguing with him when he’s like this. Once he’s dead set on worshipping you the entire night, he’ll go full throttle. He’s much worse during your anniversaries.
Sighing into his lips in pure bliss you plop the camera on the bedding, hoping you’ve angled it right before it completely slips your mind. He gives your waist a gentle squeeze, a little note shared between you saying it’s time to switch positions.
One hand hooks your leg while the other holds your back and flips you to your sides, face to face, with your back turned to the camera.
“You sure it’s a good idea for my back to be the only view?” You ask, nuzzling your nose on his.
One of the many necklaces he’s adorned you with is long. It hangs down your back with a string of jewels bedazzling your spine, so long as you’re not lying on your side. He somehow made it work with the choker, the pendant, the lariat, the rivière, opera, and matinee lavallieres wrapped around your neck to make you look like a goddess present for him to worship.
But that angle just won’t do, will it?
“I have a plan,” He languidly reaches for the camera and pans it above your heads slowly enough to capture a long kiss before setting it just beneath your entangled legs, sparkling with rhinestone-wrapped anklets and garters. “Now, we’ll see a perfect view of you choking and milking me dry.”
The thought alone makes your walls pulsate. “So grotesque.”
“You’ve said worse.”
“Like what?”
His right eye glints for a split second. Maybe you shouldn’t taunt him while he’s balls deep inside you.
“Hmm,” Sylus feigns deep thought, slowly drawing his cock back until his tip is all that’s being sucked in. “I believe it was our first night together when we got married.”
He prods deeper into you in small, almost unkind thrusts only to pull back to the tip just before he’s almost bottomed out. “Sylus.” You try to scold him but it comes out as a struggled attempt to swallow a whine.
The long forgotten camera is filming the debauched sight of his bedazzled cock slipping in and out, practically redden from the base right to his tip from the makeshift cock ring you put on him earlier. Strings of white connect you together, sticky and warm, creating wet plaps every time your hips collide.
“I still think about it after all these years.” He chuckles to himself as if he isn’t edging you and himself to the point of mental ruin. “You said, ‘If you don’t stuff me full of you right now, neither of us will be seeing the sun tomorrow.’”
Your ears go hot from the memory.
You had just gotten to your home, your shared room, after a long day of festivities from your wedding. Your clothes were ripped off and your joint bed witnessed hours of love-making before you could even touch the sheets.
He was teasing you, restraining his own insatiable greed, and you were growing impatient, dangerously hungry. It’s safe to say you kept your word. That room reeked of sex the following evening and you still weren’t done.
“Don’t remind me.” You groan into his shoulder, hiding from his teasing grin.
“You looked like you’d kill me if I even attempted to taunt you a little more.” His cock is threatening to explode, twitching like crazy and yet he just does not let up. Just a bit more and surely you’ll let him take the damn thing off.
“I felt so compelled to ensure we were painted wet with each other. Even if neither of us would walk properly for a day or two, or if our voices would be gone, or if we’d look like we walked out of a tough battle. Just had to fill you up with cum, just the way you wanted.” Slowly, slowly, he bottoms out, grinding the jewels on your folds to remind you of what you need.
“Just like you want me to right now.”
Fuck, he has a way with his words.
“Take it off.” You won’t bother teasing him and he won’t wait for you to tell him twice.
His hand rushes down and breaks the jewellery off with a soft snap! It’s truly liberating to feel the blood rush around his cock again with his cum threatening to spill out.
Sylus latches onto you, pounding his hips deep into you with no intention to stop any time soon. He’s getting loud, moaning your name in reverence all while muttering senseless filth in tandem with your own noises of pleasure.
“You feel so good inside me, Sy,” Your nails are digging into his biceps, fully consumed by him, pussy spasming around his cock again. “So, soooo good!”
If he wasn’t already married to you, Sylus would get on both knees and present the finest jewels and propose again and again and again. Maybe he should make it a yearly tradition.
“‘m gonna cum just for you,” His eyes gloss over his right eye glows at its brightest to warn you of his restraint disappearing with his eyes as they roll into his skull. “Just for you.”
And then he cums.
It is divine. Hours of self-control finally slip out in spurts of hot, thick ribbons, painting you from your bruised cervix until you’re full of him. Full. Of. Him.
It doesn’t even stop there. It leaks out of you like a burst pipe, spurting out far enough to reach the camera to blur the lens just a little.
He’s groaning— no, growling into your neck, noises so primal that your walls clench harder around him, bringing another wave of cum to burst right into you.
“Love you, love you, love you—“ His babbling into your lips, moaning your name as tears drip across the bridge of his nose and down his cheeks. The overstimulation hurts so good that he just can’t stop grinding and rutting.
You wrap your arms around him tight, whimpering your praise as you kiss him into calm. Your eyes are almost rolling back from how good it feels but you keep your attention on your husband, soothing him until the pulsing waves leave him serene in your embrace.
“So beautiful,” is the first thing he says after staring into your eyes. “So radiant.”
In moments like these, where the world just stops, you can’t help but admire how age has gracefully blessed you both. Your stamina is still through the roof, your wrinkles compliment you with class. It’s like you’re still your younger selves but with a bit more refinement.
If time had returned you to when you were young, you would choose him again. And again. Always.
The peace lulls you so gently that you almost want to fall asleep like this. Almost.
His cock stirs again inside you, twitching as if he didn’t just pour multiple rounds’ worth of cum into you. “Never let me taunt you to that extent.” Sylus pecks you twice, caressing your waist as he gently grinds into you once more. “I might just go insane if you do.”
Readjusting your legs for a better, deeper thrust, you bite his lower lip in agreement. “Never.”
It doesn’t matter if the camera’s batteries run out. You are both more than happy to do as many takes as you need.
sylus? sylus. i am married to him. all five of them, in fact. i might even go down a husband spiral once kinktober's over.
☆ pairing: exstripper!reader x billionaireceo!yunho
☆ warnings: reckless driving, a scene of physical abuse (reader gets slapped by someone), violence (bc you hand their ass back to them), profanity, drinking, smoking, blood, age gap (yunho is 37, reader is 26) SMUT — penetration, oral m and f receiving, teabagging, swallowing, hand kink, face stuffing, cum play, wearing lingerie, petnames, overstím, fingering, spítting, p sIapping, manhandIing, mating presses, size differences, creampies, loserforhisgf!yunho, overstimulation (m&f), i know i say it takes place in the nineties but i kinda fell off with that theme bc they have cellphones and don’t talk like it’s that time period i apologize!
☆ synopsis: LIVING IN BEVERLY HILLS comes with its perks. But for two different people such as yourself and multibillionaire business tycoon, Jeong Yunho, both of you can’t seem to find what you’re looking for in the so called 'land of dreams'. So the proposal is simple really… let him spoil you with money, jewelry and clothes while in return, you stay by his side. . .
☆ playlist: material girl by maddona, oh, pretty woman by roy orbison, versace on the floor by bruno mars, dirty cash (money talks) by the adventures of stevie v,
☆ a/n: this is gonna be over 25k so I'll probably have to make it multiple parts! This is just a small taste for what's to come! I hope you enjoy reading:)
☆ word count: 13.2k
m.list. | pt 1
"DON’T MAKE ME FUCKING REPEAT MYSELF AGAIN."
An index finger barely hovers over the trigger of the gun, the man behind it swallowing down his guilt and fear with another sharp threat.
“Hand over the goddamn money or I’ll litter your brains all over the floor.”
The part timer, looking to be a kid not a day over eighteen, immediately does what he asks, scrambling to dump the change from the register, accompanied with the clatter of quarters and dimes spilling onto the glass counter.
The man looks down at the embarrassing amount, dissatisfaction flashing across his face .
“Are you fucking kidding me? You think this is a fucking joke to you right now?!” He barks back, shoving the gun closer.
“M-My boss came in earlier and collected all the money we had, I-I swear!” The boy's pubescent voice cracking as he stuttered over his words in panic. A reasoning voice cuts from behind.
“The boy says he doesn’t have the money–”
“And just who the fuck do you think you are?!”
Yunho immediately retreats back to his spot with the gun being pointed at him now, shrugging his shoulders and surrendering his hands high up where he could see them.
“No one, no one in particular.”
Tension rises in this small convenience store open late on Hollywood Boulevard, a man's attempt of an armed robbery going very poorly with only a few bills coughed up on the glass counter in front of him at the moment.
Yunho watches the man resort to more violence, grabbing the boy from the collar of his uniform and shoving the gun to his head, the poor kid whimpering as sobs left his body.
“Hey, hey listen” Yunho says, quickly stepping into the man’s view with his hands still up in the air. He’s pointing his gun back at him now, the boy’s collar still being gripped tightly in his opposite hand.
“Let me make you a deal” He negotiates, carefully reaching into his suit pocket. Eyes dart down anxiously to where a Burberry wallet is presented, the snarl on his face suddenly vanishing.
“It’s late–-I bet the kid wants to go home, you wanna go home, I really want to buy my cancer sticks and go back to my hotel—but I know that's not happening anytime soon with you and your twelve bucks.”
The armed man glances back to look at the tall, rich looking fellow straight in the eyes, cocking his gun as a warning to wrap it up.
Yunho takes a small moment to breathe before continuing. “I’ll give you all the money I have in this wallet” he promises. “All you gotta do is let both the boy and I walk away from this unharmed.”
A moment of silence passes for him to consider the deal, eventually dropping the boy who falls to the ground shaking in fear. When he fails to stand straight, souvenir keychains near the register go crashing down with him.
“Hand over the watch too” the robber demands gruffly. The businessman shrugs the item off, extending his hand to give the settlements. Was the watch he’s about to give worth four hundred thousand dollars? Yes. Yes it was. But Yunho knows cost and worth are two very different things, and no watch of his could amount for the price of his life. Just as he’s shrugging it off, the sound of the front door’s bell chiming makes everyone’s heart drop in a split second. The gun swings around to now point at a loud voice.
“I know, Pauline. But let's face it, he couldn’t have been eight inches! There’s no—”
Three pairs of eyes stare as a young girl walks in with her cellphone propped between her ear and shoulder, rummaging through her purse. That’s when you stop what you’re doing and stare, witnessing the robbery occurring in front of you.
“Lemme call you back Pauline..” you uttered softly to your cell, hanging up as fast as you could. The robber shoves his gun close to your face, blood pressure rising as he shouts threats all over again. “Don’t fucking move! or I’ll-”
“Jesus, you chose to rob a store on Hollywood Boulevard and this is the one you chose? The one where I get the milk half off for my roommate's cat?” You chastised the bewildered man, striding over to shove your finger nail into his chest repeatedly while you spoke.
“W-Who the fuck are you?” The robber flusters, beginning to crack under pressure. Yunho watches in amazement as you show up just to laugh right in the gunman’s face.
“Who am I?” You repeat back, dangly earrings swinging with your aggressive attitude. “I’m the bitch that’s gonna lasso your motherfucking balls like a cowboy and shove them down your throat unless you find another store to rob!” You hissed, shoving his armed weapon away with a low, threatening voice. “And get that gun out of my face.” you snapped, tired and hungry after a long day.
It had to be either you were incredibly brave or immensely stupid.
The cowardly man blinks at your bold actions, pathetically losing his intimidating demeanor and choosing to throw more insults at you to make up for it. “You dumb bitch, I’m gonna blow your brains-”
“Blow my brains out?” You mocked, crushing his ego once more. “It’ll be hard for you to do that when I know you don’t even have a real bullet in that revolver of yours”
He glanced down at his gun, beads of sweat already forming at the crown of his head.
You scoffed, having experienced countless robberies where the guy was too chicken to pull threats with a real gun. You roll your eyes as you walk over to the milk section, shoving him out of your way so harshly that he’s knocked into the selection of mothers day postcards nearby.
Yunho and the boy behind the register stare in silent fear when the flower adorned postcards go down with him.
“Fucking cunt…” he fumes under his breath. He struggles to pick himself back up, but when he does, he's so enraged that he grabs your arm with a harsh grip and pulls you back to slap you across the face in revenge.
Thwack!
The sound cracks through the air like a whip, curses flying out of you as you clutched your cheek from the impact. Why did guys always choose to hit women across the face? It was pathetic.
It takes not even a second before Yunho, who was standing nearby, lunges forward to get his hands on the asshole. That is, before you’ve already beaten him to it, whipping your torso so you feed him a straight, clean knockout in return.
It was like you watched it happen in slow motion. From the firm contact, the man plummets to the ground clutching his broken nose. Loud wails and cries of profanity escape from his mouth. The sounds don’t even come out clean because he’s caught choking over all the blood dripping into it.
“Timothy,” you huffed, straightening your top and ordering the kid behind the counter who looks like he might’ve urinated his pants already. “Go get a mop for the floor”
He glances once to the man bleeding on the store floor, then back at you before he rushes to find the mop bucket and dial 911. Yunho watches, speechless as you step back but wince in pain when you move your hand. Suddenly, he’s rushing over to examine your swollen knuckles.
“Are you alright?” he asks, worry laced in his tone. You glanced briefly at the stranger you didn’t know, trying to brush him off.
“I’m fine-”
“This is going to leave a bruise if we don’t get you treated” He warns, looking over to the freezer section as he grabs some frozen peas.
You watch carefully as the tall 6’ foot something man places the bag over your hand, flinching when the sensitivity of the cold hits you, retracting your hand backwards. “Get off!”
The man stops for a moment, looking at your face before he has the audacity to give you a stern look you’ve seen teachers give you all throughout grade school when you’d get in trouble. It miraculously shuts you up, forcing you to let your guard down and accept his help.
“Listen, I can’t pay for all this stuff” you firmly told him, trying to push your hand away though still, his grip didn’t weaken. The pain is relieved, but you’re nervous watching the stranger grab medical tape and bandages off the nearby shelf without looking at the prices, giving you an extra ice pack for your cheek while he was at it.
But then he mumbles, voice deep and struggling to concentrate.
“Just keep still. I’ll pay for it.”
Long, swift fingers work away at bandaging your knuckles like you were some Rocky Balboa of Hollywood Boulevard. To tell the truth, Yunho didn’t know what on earth he was doing. He was a businessman, not a nurse. He had never bandaged another person’s hand before, let alone his own. Same went for you because this felt foreign—feeling such care come from someone you barely knew.
When you swipe a small glance at him you’re surprised to see he’s someone tall, good looking and well dressed. With every strand of hair combed in place and a suit that looked tailor-made, he looked like he was on a page torn from the wrinkled American Vogue your roommate Kumiko had laying on her bedside table. And suddenly, Mr. Vogue is staring back at you.
“Thank you,” He says with sincerity while letting go of your hand roughly taped to a bag of frozen peas. “That was very brave of you.” Yunho stands with his hands in his pockets, awaiting your response that fails to come out as quickly as you wanted it to.
“It wasn’t a big deal.” you mumble.
The corners of his mouth lift at your response, the faint sounds of police sirens ringing through the streets from a distance.
Not a big deal? How could punching an armed gunman in a convenience store be not a big deal to you?
Yunho straightens as he tries to get a better look at your features with you staring at him, asking you politely “What is your name?”
When you tell it to him, he smiles, extending a hand for you to shake as he introduces himself.
“Nice to meet you, I’m Jeong Yunho.”
You stare at his palm, the businessman quickly reminding himself that your hand was bandaged as he awkwardly retracts it.
Yunho clears his voice. “You must’ve been very scared,” he says, undeniably intrigued at the girl who saved both his and the young employee's life tonight.
You shrugged. “You toughen up when you live around a place like this in Hollywood Boulevard” swallowing back the nerves to then ask him,“You’re not from around here, are you?”
He chuckles, even his laughs sounding upper class as shakes his head, “No, I’m not. I was passing by on my way to Beverly Hills,” he explains, running a hand through his dark locks while letting out a sigh. “Thought I'd be able to figure out where the hell it was after a quick cigarette stop but as you can see…” he trails off, leaving the rest for you to piece together.
Red and blue lights now flash outside the store, a police cruiser pulling up. The suited businessman glances back at Timothy who's still quivering a bit and reaches into his coat for some cash.
“For the peas and medical supplies,” you watch him say, eyes narrowing in when you secretly look over his shoulder and watch him open his wallet presenting shiny credit cards lodged neatly in Italian leather. He gives more than enough for the cost of supplies, causing you to crane your neck back and reevaluate just who Yunho was.
“And throw in a pack of American Spirits as well.” he adds just when the front doors chime. An officer strolls in with shades covering his hardened gaze, hands resting at his belt and standing tall to assess the state of the whole store. The scattered mothers day cards, the discarded handgun on the floor, the unconscious bald headed man left in a small puddle of blood beside you two.
“We got a call of an armed robbery and dead body?”
You and Yunho furrow your brows in confusion, whipping your head back at Timothy as you cursed him under your breath.
“I didn’t kill the guy?!!” you defended yourself in disbelief.
The boy cowers in fear, timidly handing the pack of cigarettes to Yunho who grins as he rips open the packaging of the box. He hands him back his change to take, but he shakes his head motioning him to keep it.
Timothy continues. “I-I thought that because he wasn’t moving..”
“Jesus christ” you spoke, clutching your head as you closed your eyes in stress. One eye peaks open when you hear Yunho comment.
“You did knock him out pretty good, sweetheart” he points out, watching with great amusement as a scowl forms on your face. He towers over you, his shoulders broad and strong as he leans against the counter with a cigarette lodged between his lips.
The officer shakes his head, pursing his lips thinly. “Regardless, I’m gonna have to ask you both for your cooperation” he states, walking over to you as he eyes your bandaged hand in suspicion.
Yunho watches him move closer as he’s dishing his coat pocket for his lighter. That's when you suddenly jolt when you feel a hand come to rest against the curve of your lower back, the soft contact being none other than him as he gently guides you away from the mess and inserts himself in between you and the officer. Almost protecting you.
“You’ll have full cooperation with my legal team, officer.” he smiles, presenting a business card in hand. The badged man peers from his shades, rereading the card that catches his attention.
He stands in front of you, grinning at him.
“Jeong Yunho of J Enterprises.”
One phone call with Yunho’s attorney and a bloody man taken in handcuffs later, the cop decides neither of you would need to stay here any longer, wishing you both a safe night as he drives off into the crowded street. You swear the only reason you weren’t charged had to have been because of something Yunho’s attorney said to the officer over the phone.
You two stand outside near the curb of the dingy convenience store, neon we’re open lights casting a glow on the highlights of your cheekbones. The night had felt so long already.
“Thank you” You mutter, looking at Yunho as you clutched your wrist in your opposite hand. “I appreciate your help tonight.” you told him, thankful that it wasn’t you riding in the backseat of that police cruiser.
Yunho smiles “Thank you, for saving my life.” You reciprocate, looking away from his eyes and keeping your gaze down at your shoes as you're unsure what else to say. His expression turns into a frown when he sees the left side of your face turning into a crimson shade, evidence of how hard the guy slapped you earlier.
“He’s going to be punished for putting his hands on you” he promised you, wishing he had stepped in earlier to prevent the impact.
You see the look of worry and regret forming on his face, turning away to hide your cheek. “It’s really nothing” you say before another firm response is promised to you.
“Rest assured my legal team will handle this”. He reaches for his cell to make another call to his lawyer before he catches the view of his black sedan parked a few feet away from the corner of his eye. Yunho stops for a moment, cursing under his breath as he realizes he was still lost and had no idea where he was.
When he looks down at you, an idea suddenly pops into his mind.
“Could I ask you for a favour? I normally don’t do this but seeing how the previous events have played out I figured you’re my best chance in keeping me alive tonight” he grins.
You raise your eyebrows, hesitating before asking. “What is it?”
“I need to get to the Beverly Hills Hotel and clearly I’m not that familiar with the roads within this area” he explains, motioning to the luxurious black car parked nearby. “If you’re able to direct me there I’d repay you back for your help tonight.”
The man awaits your response as you consider what he’s said.
“How much are we talking here?” you asked, concerned on the compensation aspect rather than the possibility that Yunho could be a dangerous person. Like some kinda American Psycho organ harvester. Goosebumps travel up your legs as the chilly night breeze prickles your bare skin under your mini skirt.
Yunho smiles, hands slotting themselves in his pockets. “two hundred dollars – cheque, cash, whatever it is you prefer, and a free ride in my limousine once we get to the hotel. Anywhere you decide.” he offers.
Yunho watches you ponder about your decision, clutching your purse closer. Suddenly, you're already making your way to his car, leaving him in his spot as your heeled boots echo throughout the empty parking lot.
“For three hundred Yunho, I’ll show you personal.”
His brows furrow at your counter-offer, calmly resting his hands at his hip as his broad shoulders straighten back.
“three hundred dollars. For road directions?” He repeats skeptically, his voice nevertheless calm. His feet slowly step towards you, reeling him in like prey. This was the only thing Yunho could make himself become the most calm about: conducting business.
“I can do anything I want Yunho, I’m not the one lost” you point out.
His arms cross against his chest, a wavering gaze on your bare shoulders revealed by your halter top, and a furrow on his browline. You flash him a sweet smile. “Oh c’mon Yunho” you purred, leaning to sit and rest against the hood of his sedan. Your heeled boots tap against each other from the inside as you remind him.
“I saved your life from death’s grip and you can’t even repay your guardian angel?” you pout. “You could just give me those hundred dollar bills in your wallet”
“Look, I appreciate the help but- did you look at my wallet?” he stops, momentarily realizing.
You shrug, batting your eyelashes all innocently now that he's caught you.
The man walks on over to you, his gaze never faltering with each slow step forward, making your heart pound against the cage of your ribs. You firmly tell yourself inside your head—chances to make money are never frequent so you might as well take the chance when you can.
When he stands only a few inches away from your face, the material of his pants hitting your bare knees as they brush against each other softly, he bends down to look you in the eyes and repeat his final offer.
“Two hundred dollars, and i’m driving” a grin ghosts over his lips. Lucky for him, you’re just as serious when it comes to business too, propelling you to lean in closer this time so your noses are almost touching. Under your facade of confidence you feel as though your heart might stop at any second.
“Three hundred, and I drive” you smirk, staying true to your motive. You reach into your pocket to unravel a stick of gum and pop it into your mouth, never breaking eye contact.
Yunho watches you for a long moment, chewing those bubbles as they pop against your glossy lips once, then twice. Just when it looks as though you’ve failed to convince him, next thing you know you’ve got him handing over the keys to the car and walking over to the passenger seat, a finger pointed at you in firm warning. Your eyes glimmer when you hear him.
“Drive slow.”
Yunho’s knuckles peek through the skin of his hand. They’re bone white, gripping onto the sides of the passenger seat as the polluted street air slaps his face. He should’ve stolen that steering wheel from your grasp the minute you pressed your foot on the pedal.
“That was a red light!” he states in disbelief, turning to give you a disapproving look when you rushed through the previous intersection.
The engine of the black sedan roars to life like a panther hunting the jungle called Hollywood Boulevard. With you driving in the front seat, it was on the prowl, racing down the street as city lights blurred past the vehicle. You briefly acknowledge his comment by glancing back and seeing the cars you left behind at the stop light. You quickly looked upfront and pressed your foot forward on the accelerator more.
“Oops” you merely reply, a feeling of satisfaction blooming in your chest when you see Yunho shake his head and look away from the corner of your eye, unable to stand your reckless driving. You respond by slamming the accelerator harder, Yunho’s heart not just racing from speed but from pure, unfiltered terror.
A car on the left rolls down its window, a series of inappropriate swears coming out of an old taxi driver. The CEO watches you lift your bum off your seat a bit, hanging out the window to argue back and flipping him off whilst swearing like a sailor.
“Jesus Christ!” He lunges forward, heart pounding against his chest as one of his hands goes to steer the wheel so the car is able to function even without the main driver looking ahead.
You huffed in frustration, sliding back in your street as Yunho’s fist clenched and retreated back to grip the car handle above. Thankfully, both your hands were on the wheel this time. The leather feels cool under your grip, feeling the foreign material up as you drive. “This is a hot car” you grinned eagerly, excitement flowing through your veins.
Yunho scoffs at your observation. He preferred his private jet over driving anyways.
You look to the side, glancing at him as you steer. “Yours?” you motioned to the vehicle you were both in.
“No.”
“Stolen?”
He laughs. “Not exactly”
When the car swiftly and safely surpasses other vehicles nearby, all thanks to your expert shifting of the gears, the CEO finally asks you. “How is it you know so much about cars?”
“I used to work a lot of jobs back home” you shouted as the wind aggressively kissed your face, feeling a breath of fresh air with all the windows down. “Before I moved to LA, I spent a summer working at an autoshop in my home town,” you grinned, recalling the memories of the sweltering summer you spent getting your hands dirty with grease and fixing up car parts.
When you fishtailed around a corner you ask him a question of yours as well.
“How is it that you suck at driving?” you honk aggressively at the car in front for driving too slow, surpassing it as you moved forward. Yunho exhales heavily.
“My first car was a limousine,” he confesses, watching as an upcoming stop light appears. He slightly sends prayers of gratitude when you press the brake pedal, slowing down before coming to a complete stop. You laughed at what you heard. “I figured” you tell him.
“How old are you Yunho?” you suddenly asked in curiosity, shifting straight in your seat and adjusting the front mirrors to fix your lipliner while you waited at the stoplight.
“Old,” he replies, not giving you anything specific. “At least older than you that’s for sure”
“And how old is too old?” you teased, shifting so you could face him directly, presenting a sweet view of your bare legs and a small something else under your mini skirt.
He catches it of course. He’s not blind. Yunho instead smiles calmly at you, finding your sudden seductress act quite amusing. You await his response patiently, never breaking eye contact as neither does he. After a short moment, when you finally go quiet and Yunho thinks you're deserving to know, the billionaire confesses to you. “I’m thirty-seven”
The light changes green. You look away before he can finish, already shifting gears.
“Oh cool! I’m twenty-six”
Yunho has to make sure he heard you right, judging by your carefree response that you weren’t so intimidated by this age gap between you two.
“College?” He asks.
You shake your head. “I’m focused on saving up at the moment” ignoring the tiny lump hiding at the back of your throat. You clear your voice. “Once I make enough I can go back.” you state definitively, serious about your future and financial plan. Yunho doesn’t seem to say anything more and you’re happy with that.
“So,” you begin changing the topic. “You here on vacation, Yunho?”.
“Business” He corrects.
“Oh?” you say, turning the corner as you leaned forward, focused on finding the hotel entrance. You think back to the bone white business card he showed the officer earlier.
“Do you like running your own company Yunho?”
Yunho laughs at your question, looking at you properly now. Your side profile was very pretty.
“I’m quite good at it,” the corners of his mouth lift.
Soon the car pulls into the entrance of the Beverly Hills Hotel, the gears of the car screeching their final choke. You let go of your clutch on the stick, Yunho’s nail marks already indented in the leather material from how hard he was holding on.
“Well,” you said cheerfully. “Here we are! Beverly Hills Hotel” you smiled, the soft golden glow of the high rise luxury establishment awaiting outside. Yunho adjusts his necktie, about to respond before you cut him off and expectantly hold out an empty palm, a small grin awaiting him.
“I prefer cash by the way.”
He doesn’t seem to find your comment amusing, reaching for his coat in the back seat to bring out his wallet. “You drive dangerously” he notes, handing you your cash. “And you should go back to school” he emphasizes, suddenly critiquing your life choices.
You roll your eyes when the bills gets placed in your hand and are accompanied with some unwanted grown adult advice. You quickly tuck it into your right knee-high boot.
“I’ll go back to school once the money comes in. Just watch me” you grinned.
Yunho’s gaze never leaves your body.
“I am.”
You hesitate for a second, swallowing back the feeling of butterflies in your chest. You feel too awkward to have his attention on you like this, so you quickly wrap things up.
“Pleasure doing business with you Yunho. Thanks for the peas” You winked, holding up your bandaged hand.
He realizes you’re leaving. “Do you need a drive back? I can call a limo driver-”
You put up a hand, silencing him as you shook your head and smiled. “Nah, I’m all good. I’ve had enough of fancy cars and bald men tonight.”
Yunho opens his mouth to say something before closing it. He thanks you one last time.
“Thank you. I appreciate your help.”
You smile, looking away when the car door opens to reveal a hotel valet flashing you a welcoming smile.
“Good evening Ma’am, welcome to the Beverly Hills Hotel”
You glance back at Yunho one last time, offering a small smile before placing your hand in the valet’s. As the car door closes behind you, the sound feels louder than it should — final, almost. Yunhos left sitting in silence for a few moments , the noise of the city fading beneath the hum of his thoughts, though all of them circle back to you.
You were simple — at least it appeared that way on the outside. But Yunho watched you talk these past ten minutes. You were sharp. You joked, you flirted, you called him out for his shit driving even though he’s certain you just earned him ninety tickets from speeding down Hollywood Boulevard. You were wild, eccentric, and not a single damn word from your sweet mouth felt fake. It felt real.
For someone like Yunho who's used to half-smiles and empty pleasantries, your honesty was jarring. Comforting, too. It was strange, feeling this at ease with someone he’d only just met. Most strangers he meets are either shaking his hand and sliding their business cards to him or pitching million-dollar deals when he’s trying to enjoy his drink.
The businessman glances at the digital clock in his car, the red numbers blaring the time which was a few minutes to midnight. He could go upstairs to his penthouse. Take a shower, light a cigarette, return a few calls to people who only speak to him when money’s on the table. That would be easier than what he wants to do right now. Familiar.
Or he could stop overanalyzing this and just be back in your presence.
He unbuckles his seatbelt and gets out of the passenger seat, beating the valet who tries to open it for him. ‘No need’ Yunho quickly extends a hand preventing him, instead slotting the keys to the sedan in the man's hand along with a hefty tip as he runs after you in fast, long strides.
You’re already walking ahead, heels clicking against the concrete pavement and admiring your hard earned money, the crisp green bills making your heart flutter with excitement.
Finally, you would be able to pay back your landlord and catch up on your rent. You continue to walk towards the nearest bus stop before the call of your name makes you turn around. You squint for a second, eyes widening and footsteps retreating backwards when a breathless Yunho rushes up to you and unintentionally corners you against the door of a nearby telephone booth.
“Yunho?”
“Do you have any prior engagements tonight?”
The question throws you off. At this hour? You were set on taking the bus straight home with your money, ready to pay off your landlord in the morning.
Yunho watches you hesitate to answer him. He speaks again.
“If you don’t... I’d very much appreciate it if you’d accompany me into the hotel”
Now you’re looking at him skeptically. First he asks for you to drive him here, now he’s asking you to go to his room with him? You think to yourself, it's a pretty shit way of him to ask someone out.
“Why?” you blurt, doubt and confusion all packaged in your tone and delivery.
Yunho feels the heavy gazes as hotel guests pass by, staring at the man and woman pressed against each other on the door of the dingy phone booth. He can tell they’re also looking at how you're dressed, your skirt and your high heels, and he looks down at your body for a moment. Fuck, he could tell you weren’t wearing a bra.
He leans back, giving you the space you deserve, rubbing his eyes at his poor execution of getting you to stay. How could this be so hard for him? What was it he even wanted to say or do with you?
You try to make it easier—or what you believe is easier—for him.
“If you wanted us to fuck, Yunho, all you had to do is ask-”
A woman gasps while passing by into the hotel and hearing your vulgar words, clutching her pearls and mink coat closer as her husband ushers her in, sending Yunho a critical look.
Two large hands clamped around your mouth the moment you blurted out what you thought were his genuine intentions. Your words are muffled, brows furrowing as Yunho immediately takes his hands off to cover your shoulders with his long black coat. He had to do something about your outfit.
The man mutters sternly under his breath, gritting his teeth as he adjusts the collar for you. “I’m not asking for that, I’m simply asking if you want to stay with me for a bit.” he sighs, running a hand through his hair.
“For tea?” he musters out pathetically, hanging his head in front of you.
You’re confused— maybe it’s because you’ve never had money, but did all rich folks invite their guests into their homes for midnight tea?
You grab Yunho’s chin, forcing him to lift it just a bit so he's not completely avoiding you. You smile, warmth blossoming in Yunho’s heart when he hears your voice answer him, two big round eyes looking up.
“Sure, let’s have tea”
The whole time, it’s quiet — the check-in at the front desk, the murmurs of guests whispering at the sight of Yunho and the mysterious young girl, the fifty-story elevator ride, and even when Yunho slides his keycard into the penthouse door. But that silence shatters the moment he flips on the lights, and a blazing crystal chandelier floods the entire suite with white brilliance.
“Wow” you blurted out loud, walking into the living room wearing hotel slippers far more luxurious than any pair of shoes you owned.
The room didn’t scream obnoxiously rich—It was quiet, curated opulence.
Floor-to-ceiling windows framed a glittering view of Los Angeles, the city sprawled out beneath you like it belonged to whoever stood in this room. For tonight, that person was Yunho.
The ceilings were high, impossibly high, making the entire space feel like it could swallow you whole. The walls were a soft cream, accented with classic crown molding and gold fixtures that glinted subtly under the warm lighting. Everything had been designed with restraint — no gaudy displays, no flashy logos — just pure, quiet luxury.
A white cashmere sofa stretched out in the center of the room, low and modern, its texture buttery soft beneath your fingertips. Beside it, a single dark leather armchair sat like a throne, clean lines and cool dominance in every inch of its structure. A glass coffee table rested between them, sleek and minimal, topped with a crystal decanter and two untouched glasses. Like it had been waiting for a scene just like this.
In the distance, a marble fireplace sat beneath a muted oil painting, the flames flickering low, more for ambiance than warmth. Thick drapes hung on either side of the windows, drawn back to let in the skyline. It was a view that made it clear you were a long way from home.
You turned in a slow circle, taking it all in. The kind of world Yunho clearly lived in every day.
Yunho unbuttons his suit with one hand, watching as you sit on one of the italian leather seats in the living room, legs crossing over one another comfortably.
“Your parents must be really proud of you.” you said aloud. He doesn’t reply to your response, simply letting his finger hook under the collar of his tie and loosen the piece of fabric.
He picks up a telephone nearby, pressing a button and dialing someone. You watched as he sat in the chair of a desk nearby, opposite to where you were. Watching Yunho in the soft light, for the first time in maybe ever, you felt like you’d stepped into someone else's story.
Gnawing at you from the back, you weren’t sure if you were meant to stay. And if he did want you to stay, you were even more scared of what that would entail.
“Hello, can you send up a traditional tea cart with some white peaches please?”
Yunho orders room service for you, keeping his promise and ordering a lavish tea cart to be sent to the penthouse. A few moments later, and here you were watching him roll up his sleeves as he pours you a glass of omija-cha.
“So you’re ivy league educated” You ask, walking over to him absentmindedly before sitting on the top of Yunho's desk. Yunho smiles, eyeing the way your ass propped against his faxes and files.
“What makes you think that?” he says, handing you your tea. You accept it graciously, looking down into the liquid ruby blend of scarlet and magenta, before bringing the rim of the glass to your lips and tasting the sweet but sharp tang of the magnolia vine tea.
Yunho smiles when he sees you immediately like it.
“I don’t know, you've got that…” you snap your fingers, trying to find the word.
“—sharp, useless look” you grin, watching Yunho throw his head back and chuckle at your description. You smile, watching him turn to open a silver lid hiding a crystal bowl of soft, fragrant white peaches, motioning you to pick up a fruit fork and try one.
“You should try one”
“Why?” you ask in genuine curiosity. He smiles, shrugging his shoulders as he tries to explain while watching your brows furrow at the sight of the peaches.
“They just pair well with the tartness of the tea.”
“..okay” you say as your eyebrows raise, stabbing a fork in one of the cut up pieces and biting into a delicate fuzz before juice rushes into your mouth instantly.
The taste of the peach was sweet and floral, tastebuds tingling with excitement from never trying such a delicious fruit before. Yunho watches as it trickles down your chin before you can catch it before diverting his eyes away.
It falls silent for a moment, the scent of the tea strong in the air as the steam wafts up to your nose. Yunho takes a long sip of his cup as well, locking gazes with you as you crunch on your peach. He’s analyzing you, just as you are trying to do with him, and it almost makes the corners of his mouth twitch in amusement. You were feisty, he’ll give you that.
You bit your lip softly just before speaking.
“Well, now that we’ve drank the tea and eaten the fruits, what else are you going to do with me?” your voice is soft and innocent without even realizing.
Yunho murmurs softly, never breaking eye contact as he sets his glass down on the cart.
“You wanna know something?”
You playfully swing your legs back and forth a little, settling into the moment.
Yunho leans closer. “I haven’t got a single clue.”
Your breath catches — the taste of peach still sweet on your tongue — as Yunho leans in, just slightly, his gaze warm and impossibly fond. The air feels heavier, stretched thin between the two of you. Then your eyes flick to the cup of tea in one hand and the empty fruit fork in the other, and it hits you just how long a supposed temporary meeting has managed to last.
“I hadn’t exactly planned this,” he confessed.
“Well, do you plan everything?” you ask, taking another sip. He nods.
The quietness is a bit suffocating. Even more than the feeling of uncertainty brought on by Yunho because you’re not so sure what his intentions were, only having followed him in because he seemed like a nice guy and you wanted tea. You push your bum off of his papers.
“Listen, I’m used to working on an hourly rate because of my job so can we get this moving along?” You make it clear to him, deliberately moving away from him to put the fork and cup on the cart with a clink.
“Somehow I’m sensing this time problem is a major issue with you” Yunho replies evenly, straightening to his full height.
You glance at the nearby clock and feel your stomach sink — the last bus must’ve left minutes ago. In just a few hours, you’d have to be up for your five a.m. shift at the diner, refilling coffee and waiting tables. You had no time for romance or peaches.
You sigh, running a hand over your eyes. “It is, so listen, Yunho. I really appreciate the whole gentleman seduction scheme you’ve got going right now, but if I stay any longer then I’m missing time to get ready for my shift, and I really need that job to pay for me and my roommates rent this month–”
“Let’s take care of that right now actually” he says, mindlessly searching through the mahogany drawers of the nearby desk for something.
You sighed in relief, thinking he was letting you go. “Great. Thanks for the tea, it was nice meet-“
“How much for the entire night?”
You stop in your tracks. Surely you heard wrong.
“Excuse me?”
Yunho says it without hesitation — not out of arrogance, but out of habit. He’s not used to not getting what he wants. Which is probably why it doesn’t quite register that asking the girl he likes how much she costs is… a little rude.
You blink at him, then at the checkbook he’s already found. Something uneasy twists low in your stomach — disbelief or even pity maybe. Turning away, your eyes drift to the curls of steam still coming from the tea cups. You exhale slowly, seeing him stare at you awaiting your price, and so you decide to play with him one last time when you scoff back.
“You couldn’t afford it.”
“Try me,” Yunho says, amused.
“A thousand dollars” you joked, the amount randomly falling out from your mouth.
Yunho takes a pen off the desk, biting the cap and holding it in between his teeth as he scribbles into the book.
“I assumed check works for you as well?” he says, the question coming out muffled from the cap in his mouth.
He's dead serious.
Your shoulder loses its strength, dropping your bag to the ground as you’re hit with overwhelming realization. You watch as Yunho proceeds to ask you for your last name, to which you mutter from under your breath in disbelief. He wasn’t joking.
He rips the piece of paper, handing it over to you and motioning for you to take.
You stare at his signature, then at his face before your hands reach out and grab it.
“There. Are you satisfied? Now, can we move on with the rest of the night?” He sighs, picking up his faxes and mail and flipping through them as he walks past you.
You clench your fists. You’ve done plenty of things for money before — things you weren’t proud of — but knowing there’s no other choice, you sigh, undoing the back of your halter top. One grand was just too much to resist. An upper class CEO brings a younger girl to his hotel room at this time of the night and pays her. You already knew what that meant. You need to brace yourself for whatever Yunho might ask next.
You take a deep breath, your heart racing; it’s been a while since you’ve done this, evident by the shakiness of your voice when you tell him.
“Just know, Yunho, I don’t usually do this—” The words die on your lips when you notice he doesn’t spare you a glance, already absorbed in a phone call, discussing business.
“Yes, that’s right, Vance,” Yunho says, twirling his fountain pen in one hand. “I’ll still need the numbers by next Wednesday.” His brows furrow as he jots something on the papers in front of him, utterly ignoring any and all distractions — including you.
Your hands freeze mid-untie, a surge of unease running through your body as your blood rushes to your ears, wondering if you misread the message.
You step closer to Yunho, taking another chance to give him his transaction. The favours presented in a simple strip show. Your gaze softens into the bedroom eyes you used to use. But when he lifts a single finger, pausing you, you can’t help but scoff out loud.
Yunho watches you from the corner of his eye, trying so hard not to react before he looks away, returning to Vance or whoever it was on the phone. When you continue to stare at him, he finally speaks to you.
“What is it?” he asks, brows furrowed in genuine concern.
You’re quiet for a moment, confusion and uncertainty lacing with your words.
“Aren’t you going to pay attention? To me?!” you gesture to your body.
Yunho shakes his head, acting puzzled. “All I asked of you was to stay with me for the night.” He gestures to the comfortable sofa in front of him.
You watch in exasperation. “I thought you wanted us to fuck?”
Yunho stares at you, Vance’s voice still speaking at him through the phone. Yunho tells him to hold once again, covering the bottom half and proceeding to embarrass you with his explanation.
“I meant that I’d appreciate your presence as a companion, not as a sexual partner.”
Vance’s voice stops speaking through.
“Feel free to order whatever you like from room service or watch TV. I have a few more calls to make, so I’d appreciate your understanding.” He dismisses, his tone still gentle.
When he goes back to the phone, which is basically right after, he glances down at some numbers on his papers. “Well I’ve got L.A. — I’m just gonna need Tokyo next.”
“Mhm” Yunho replies, watching as you slowly retreat away to take a seat in front of him in the living room.
You can’t believe it. You completely misunderstood. Yunho hadn’t asked you to stay for a lap dance, or for anything physical at all. All he wanted was someone to be there — just human presence. You’re so used to men treating your body like a transaction, like the only thing you had to offer was your curves or your touch. Every encounter in your past had come with an unspoken expectation: a hand on your shoulder, a lingering look, a request you didn’t want to fulfill but felt obligated to.
It was so easy to grow accustomed to giving and performing, to being a commodity in someone else’s story. And now, here, in this vast penthouse that stretches out like its own private universe, none of that exists. Yunho doesn’t even glance at you as he speaks on the phone.
He doesn’t ask for a dance, a touch, a kiss. He simply… exists, and he wants you to exist alongside him. The sheer normalcy of it, the ordinary, human simplicity changes your perspective of him in a moment.
You decide that if you’re being paid one thousand dollars to spend a night in such a luxurious penthouse, you’re gonna wanna do it the right way. You glance at the other telephone nearby, carefully picking it up and dialing the front desk, making sure you don’t disrupt Yunho with his call.
You don’t know it, but he actually watches you silently this time, looking down and smiling to himself when he hears your voice speak into the receiver.
“Hi, yes, um could you send up some extra blankets? The fuzzy kind? And some more peaches please?”
Eventually, a distinct area of the soft carpeted floors in the living room are scattered with compliments of the ordered room service. Rented VHS’s of old hollywood movies are stacked in a pile to your left, followed by a few packets of M&M’s and movie theatre candy all around you. You’re lying on your belly in front of the tv, eyes crinkling and nose twitching with every loud giggle you let out from watching the movie playing in front of you. The half-empty bowl of white peaches is there as well of course.
It's the early hours of the morning when Yunho finally finishes a good chunk of his work. His eyes hurt because he neglected his need for his reading glasses, thinking he was still young, and his back also aches from neglecting proper posture when sitting for so long. Nevertheless, Yunho felt better having you in his company. He liked watching you enjoy yourself from his seat, knowing that for once, the only source of sound being projected wasn’t from his tired voice
He’s never done this before. Never brought a girl home just to pay her one grand to mess up his carpet and stifle her giggles as she watches Gregory Peck movies while he’s on business calls.
He leans closer.
“What are you watching?” Yunho asks from behind, making you glance back to see bags under his eyes but a smile nonetheless.
“Roman Holiday” you laughed, clutching your stomach. It was a classic, something you always watched reruns of with your grandma on weekends.
“I’ve got a whole picnic over here, are you sure you don’t wanna join me?” You say, mouth curving into a happy smile. You watch as the CEO shakes his head gently, chuckling at your words as he undoes his tie and stands to walk over your torso and sprawled limbs.
“I’m going to take a shower. Please, continue with your movie” he says politely.
Your eyes follow his movements, your giggles growing quieter as you watch him walk away.
He didn’t seem to eat. Didn’t seem to drink. Didn’t even seem to rest. You wonder what the man exactly does for fun as you meekly trace the nearby polished walls of the penthouse with your eyes. The soft light glints off the marble floors, the sleek furniture, the massive windows revealing a sprawling cityscape below. It’s luxurious, intimidating, and somehow comforting all at once.
As you lay on your back, looking up at the crown molding and tall ceilings, for the first time in a long while, you realize it’s possible to just be. Without giving, without performing, without selling any part of yourself. Yunho didn’t seem to want much from you, except your company. You snuggle into the carpet more, the fuzzy blankets covering your body as you let out a soft sigh. Happy because at least you had a nice place to sleep tonight.
When Yunho steps out of the master bedroom, steam still clings faintly to his skin, damp locks falling over his forehead in soft disarray from his hot shower. The navy robe hangs loose on his shoulders, the faint scent of his body wash mixing with the cool air of the living room as he pads toward the fridge.
The faint hum of the appliance fills the area, the sound of a late-night movie still murmuring in the background when he opens the door and twists open a bottle of water, ready to take a sip.
Until something on the carpet catches his eye.
A small shape, half-tucked under a blanket, lying motionless on the floor.
You.
Fast asleep in front of the TV, the fifth movie of the night still flickers on the screen, casting pale light across your face. Your empty peach bowl sits beside you, a few stray peanuts scattered near your hair like little constellations. You’re a very messy girl, Yunho concludes.
He watches as your chest rises and falls softly with each breath, a faint snore breaking the quiet now and then.
For a moment, Yunho just stands there, a bottle forgotten in his hand. There’s something tender in the stillness — something that tugs at him unexpectedly. You look so peaceful like that. Unarmored. Younger, somehow, stripped of all the careful edges you keep up when you’re awake.
He sets the bottle down on the counter and crosses the room, each step slow, deliberate. When he reaches you, he crouches down, taking in the details — the way your lips part slightly as you breathe, the faint warmth radiating from your skin.
Then without a word, Yunho leans down and gently presses his hands beneath you — one under your knees, the other behind your back. He moves with a kind of reverence, careful not to wake you as he lifts you into his arms.
Your head naturally finds its place against his shoulder, a small sigh escaping your lips followed by a murmur of incoherence.
Yunho glances down at you one last time, expressionless before turning toward the master suite. On the screen, Audrey Hepburn is roaming through Italy, just as Yunho carries you away.
The next morning, sunlight pears through the curtains, casting a ray of warmth across your covered body. You’re dozing off in pure bliss, the covers soft against your skin. But it’s only so long before your eyes blink open, taking in the first item you saw across from you.
A white bath robe placed on an armchair nearby, awaiting your body.
A voice makes you jump. “Good morning.”
You turn in the sheets, messy bed hair surrounding your head like a crown as you squinted at the man standing in the middle of the doorway, wearing the same matching navy robe from last night. Shit, what time was it?
You try to grasp your senses together, craning your neck back to sit up straight as the blankets start to slip off the bed.
Yunho doesn’t mind. He doesn’t even seem to care. He simply walks over to you as you’re rubbing sleep out of the corner of your eyes and hands you the soft robe to cover up. You slept only in your halter top and panties, discarding your mini skirt halfway through the night unconsciously.
“Did you sleep well?” He asks, smiling at you as he brushes your hair out from your face, softly petting you with gentleness. You stare at him. Does he think you’re his dog?
You nodded, not yet coherent and aware enough of your surroundings to respond with words. Yunho brought his large hands down towards your jaw, grasping your chin so you could look up at him.
“Figured I’d save you the back pain from sleeping on the living room floor” He smiles.
For a moment, you both don’t say anything. You allow Yunho to watch you carefully, a knowing look creeping on his face that he thinks he successfully hides from you.
“Yunho” you say, breaking the void.
He hums, eyebrows raising as he continues to admire your features.
“I’m hungry”
He chuckles, letting his hand fall so that your hands could grasp the robe nearby and put it on. He gives you privacy by turning his back, thinking you’d simply want to change into your mini skirt before a flimsy top flings near his feet.
Yunho’s eyes widened for a moment, before you tap him on the shoulder, fully covered in the white robe and ready. He extends his hand, leading you out of the master bedroom.
The floor to ceiling windows reveal a breathtaking view of the city in the early morning, met face to face with a clear blue sky and warm carpet from the sunshine. That's when you suddenly find the room service cart awaiting you at the breakfast table nearby, letting the tall man guide you to your seat with your mouth gaped open.
“I uh, took the liberty of ordering everything on the menu.” He tells you softly, opening the silver lids to reveal stacks of warm blueberry pancakes, crispy bacon and strudels of all kinds calling your name. “I didn’t know what you’d like,” he tells you truthfully.
You stand with your mouth gaping before keeping it shut. “Thank you”
He nods.
It’s quiet, the breakfast table. No loud noises, no sounds of impatient cars honking their horns or angry landlords banging on the door for rent money. It’s partially due to the fact that you’re both so high up. Just the soft clatter of silverware against breakfast plates and the smell of expensive cologne lingering on Yunho's bathrobe.
Munching away on your choice of a carrot muffin, a long time habit of yours slips through, abandoning the breakfast table seats nearby and choosing to sit on the edge of the table—specifically on Yunho's morning paper. Yunho is about to slip the paper away but your ass has already conquered it. He looks at you munching away obviously and lets it slide, sitting back in his chair and containing a chuckle.
“So where did you sleep?” You inquired, inspecting your muffin and picking out the carrot bits to eat first.
“I had some more work to do so I slept on the couch” he says.
You shake your head at his workaholic lifestyle. “You work too much” you comment without thinking.
At the sight of your bare legs swishing back and forth over the edge, he shares an insightful notice.
“Yknow, There are four other chairs here as well”
You sheepishly look back, realizing he was right. With an embarrassed smile, you take a seat beside him.
“So what do you do, Yunho?”
Yunho reads the front page of the newspaper in his hands, not looking up but responding to the question. “I buy other companies.”
You furrow your brows. “What kind?”
“Ones that need help.”
“Oh so you rebuild them!” You stated enthusiastically, looking at him.
Yunho is quiet for a moment. But then he laughs.
“Somewhat so”
You think for a moment, before locking eyes with him. “So what do you do with the companies once you buy them?”
“I sell them.” Yunho’s answer comes flat, almost automatic, like it’s been rehearsed too many times. The weight behind it doesn’t match the ease of his tone. And when he exhales, the sigh that escapes feels heavier than it should. It makes you pause, your next question dying on your tongue just as the phone nearby rings.
He reaches for it on the counter, his expression tightening when he checks his watch and realizes who he promised to make a call with. The lines around his eyes deepen, the faint wrinkles near the edges of his brow becoming more pronounced.
“Please, help yourself,” he mutters absently, gesturing toward the breakfast spread before lifting the receiver. The words sound polite, but distant — as if his mind’s already miles away.
You nod, though he’s not looking anymore. Your fingers toy with the crumb of your carrot muffin, appetite slipping away as he disappears behind the heavy door of his office.
Inside, Yunho shuts the door with a soft thud, leaning against it for a brief moment before the familiar, clipped voice of his lawyer breaks through the receiver.
“She’s a fiery old lady, that chairwoman. One wrong word and we could wind up in court,” Patrick warns uneasily.
It was true. The eighty-seven-year-old chairwoman overseeing Marinex Shipping Company was infamous for being ruthless, sharp-tongued, and utterly immovable once she’d made up her mind. Madame Choi was a relic of an older business era. When deals were sealed with cigars and intimidation — she’d survived corporate wars that had buried men twice her size.
The press made her seem intimidating, when in fact all she is, is a woman who’d inherited her husband’s empire after his passing and built it into something ten times larger. But as her company was sliding into bankruptcy, Yunho’s lawyer insisted it would be too easy to take that empire off her hands.
“Well, there’s a lot that can go wrong with this, Patrick,” Yunho says dryly, dragging a hand over his face. “You know that’s why I love this job so much,” his voice heavy with sarcasm.
His temples throb — he hasn’t slept properly in days, not since the Marinex shipping deal started slowly falling apart. The company was supposed to be his clean win. Now it’s just another battlefield.
Patrick doesn’t bite. He’s known his employer long enough.
“You’ve already made quite the impression on her when you intercepted her deal with Nilsson Motors. We can’t afford you making another enemy, Yunho.” He can hear papers rustling on the other end — the impatient shuffle of a man who’s been at his side for years.
Yunho exhales, keeping it from passing through the speaker.
“Find a date for the dinner tonight,” Patrick orders. “A nice girl. Get her to make some small talk with Chairwoman Choi, keep her guard down and then make her sign that agreement.”
Yunho’s jaw tightens at the orders. There’s a long silence. Then, without another word, he slams the phone down. The sharp crack of the receiver hitting the cradle echoes through the office.
For a moment, he just sits there, staring at the dark surface of his desk, the ghost of his reflection looking right back at him.
Tired, bitter, and alone.
After finishing your breakfast — alone, once again — you wandered around the penthouse to pass the time. The place was big, quiet, and almost too neat, like no one really lived in it. You made sure to avoid Yunho’s office, figuring that was the one room you shouldn’t step into, and instead explored the long hallways and mostly empty rooms.
When you reached the one beside the master bedroom, you stopped.
It wasn’t a regular room — it was a walk-in closet, large enough to count as its own space. Rows of neatly pressed suits lined the walls, shoes arranged perfectly on the shelves.
Yunho was there, standing in front of the mirror, fixing his tie as he seems to be finishing getting ready for work. His brow was slightly furrowed on getting the knot right. If he noticed you standing by the doorway, he didn’t show it — just kept adjusting the tie with quiet precision.
You lingered for a second, unsure what to do. Technically you should be gone by now.
When you hear a soft curse fall from the older man’s lips, you instinctively pad over the soft carpet floor, barefoot and in your robe as your hands brushed against his.
“Here, let me help”
Yunho surprisingly doesn’t protest, sitting him down on a nearby couch as nimble fingers go to work at his tie.
The CEO’s hands become empty, awkwardly coming down and shifting as he hesitates to put his hands on your robed waist. You pay no attention to him, too focused on what you’re about to say.
“I’m sure you’re probably wondering when I’m going to leave” you chuckle awkwardly, continuing to work at his tie. You glance up for a split second, swallowing back nervousness as you assured him. “I’ll take my things and be out of here in less than a minute”
His gaze falters for a bit, looking down at you as you help him.
“I don’t mind, you can stay longer if you’d like.”
You try your best to not let your cheeks heat up, trying to keep yourself grounded and mindful of where you belong, and where you soon have to go back to. Finally, when you finish the knot, Yunho glances back at the mirror to see his perfectly made tie, courtesy of yourself.
He smoothes down the fabric. “Not bad. Where did you learn to do that?”
You casually sit down on his thick thighs, straddling them as you wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned in. Yunho watches carefully, letting his warm hands enclose your figure and keep you perched. You were like a monkey.
“I screwed the debate team in high school,” you joke, fingers idly playing with the back of his hair. He narrows his eyes just slightly, and you have to laugh nervously to prevent the shiver running down your spine at his possessiveness.
“I’m kidding! My grandma used to do my dad’s ties for work.. I picked it up from her.”
Yunho gives a small, knowing hum. He’s beginning to recognize this pattern with you — the way you throw him off focus with your words, testing how far you can push before he pushes back. But this time, it’s him who decides to shift the rhythm.
“I have a business proposition for you,” he says suddenly, leaning back against the bench behind him, his hands still resting lightly on your hips.
“What is it?” you ask, flattening his suit and collar.
“I’m in town until this Sunday,” he says. “I’d like you to stay here with me until then.”
You blink, looking up at him as the words sink in. All while Yunho holds you in his lap like you were his already.
“Really?”
He nods, a small smile tugging at his lips at the sound of your voice. “Yes. Would you consider spending the next few days with me?”
You can’t help the grin spreading across your face. But you’re also puzzled.
“You’re a rich, good-looking guy. You could get any girl you want for free.” you state what you believed was the obvious.
“Why me?”
Yunho shrugs, his tone calm and deliberate. “I’m tired of the usual options. I want someone who doesn’t pretend.”
You blink, surprised by how simply he says it — no hesitation, no charm layered over the truth. Just quiet honesty.
“They all want something,” he explains after a moment, eyes still on you. “Attention. Money. A story to tell others. I don’t want that anymore.”
You furrow your eyebrows, about to protest that you’re not really any different from those gold digging sugar babies if the reason you stayed the night was only because he was filthily rich and accommodating, but he cuts you off.
“I can tell you’re focused on the money.” he assures you. “Believe me, it was quite amusing though also painful, to have to decline your sweet little strip tease last night” he chuckles
From hearing that, embarrassment surges through you, instinctively punching Yunho in the chest and watching as he rubs the aching area while stifling laughter.
“You asshole! I knew you just brought me here just to have sex!” you wriggle out of his grasp, too angered to be in his lap although he firmly holds you down and seriously tells you.
“I can tell you need the money. You’re desperate.”
You bit your lip. He’s right. You needed this money more than any other LA trust fund socialite Yunho could’ve taken home instead last night.
“So what do you want from me? Why is it that you let me stay?” you ask him for the truth.
Yunho exhales, almost like he’s been waiting for that question. “I just need… someone who doesn’t make things complicated.”
You tilt your head slightly, studying him.
“You seem fun. Might as well hire someone who doesn’t fake half of it cause they need it” He shrugs.
You think about his business offer strategically.
“So…. No kisses? No sex?” you exclaim.
Was that disappointment in your voice?
Yunho blinks, not having guessed that you would be very inclined to offer such things, after the way he saw you nervously fumble with stripping for him last night.
He sighs, calling for your name and telling you genuinely.
“I’m not going to force you into anything”. He’s looking at you seriously now.
“But..” he begins, looking away with a small smirk on his face. “I wouldn’t mind if you let me hold you like I am doing right now every once and a while” he confesses, making your heart stop.
“That’s it?”
Yunho didn’t want rough sex? No backseat blowjobs? Just a cuddle buddy?
He laughs loudly at your reaction, throwing his head back. You straddle his thighs, unsure what was so funny to him.
“I do like the occasional cunnilingus once in a while” he mumbles, ears going a bit red like he was a teenage boy again. You can’t believe it.
This six foot something billionaire tycoon was wrapped underneath your bare legs and the most he was requesting from you was to taste your pussy? Occasionally???
“I mean…” you drag out loud, letting your mind wander. “We’re talking 24 hours a day, that’s gonna cost you”
Yunho meets at your gaze again, this time smiling.
“Oh. Of course” he chuckles, letting his hands fall from your body and making you pout a bit when he pushes you off his lap to negotiate business properly.
“Name your price.” Yunho states with his arms crossed, watching you stand in front of him as he manspreads on the sofa. He has glasses resting on the tip of his nosebridge, hair styled and well kept, just like the way he was when you first met him.
You narrow your eyes.
“Four days.. All which happen to be like last night….” You inquired for a moment.
Yunho cuts you off, giving you a wink. “They can be a lot better if you want them to be. I have a few private dinners scheduled with clients, but other than that, you’re free to take my jet and limo anywhere you’d like”
You ignore him for a moment, counting your fingers hesitantly before looking up and shooting your shot.
“Five thousand” you blurt.
“Four days would be four thousand, my love” he makes a point about each day essentially costing him one grand.
“Well then why don’t I throw in a few extra offers?” You smiled seductively, playing with the ties of your robe. That was a signal to Yunho.
That even your body could be his.
“Six thousand.” he settles, a flash of hunger evident with his gaze on your body. His heart pumps harder, shifting in his seat when he realizes just tastes of your cunt aren’t the only thing he’ll be getting.
You smirk, growing all the more bolder and raising the bid.
“Eight thousand!”
“Done.”
Yunho quickly takes this chance to uncross his arms as if he didn’t just promise you two thousand dollars everyday for the next four days, and hooks his arms around your waist to haul you into his grasp, ignoring your screams of happiness and laughter to perch you over his shoulder so your bum is beside his face.
“Yunho!” you called out, chuckling when you felt a small slap land on your asscheek. You stifle your moan by biting your lips, not wanting to expose that side of yourself to him just yet. But perhaps you already did with that persuasion technique back there.
“Now that you’re mine, there’s something I’d like to do to you that I hope you’d also agree to” he growls, his member stiffening inside his work pants.
Yunho carries you to the suite, only to throw you down on the mattress. It causes you to stare up at him with bating breath and squeeze your legs at the sight presented above you.
Yunho’s chest is tightened against his white shirt, the tie that you helped him with, straining at his neck as a hungry, dark gaze is set on your and your exposed ankles from under your bathrobe.
Two warm hands ghost over the skin of either leg, making your eyes flutter and struggle to focus with the way his mouth presses soft kisses to your calves.
“Please,” he asks, having always favoured the taste of pussy on his lips before heading to the office. “Could I have a taste?”
Your heart beats uncontrollably, a pool of slick already leaking down your thighs and making you squirm in discomfort from the throbbing need of your clit to be paid attention to.
You nod, his name ghosting over your lips.
“So it’s a yes?” he smirks, dipping his head down and nipping your ankles.
You moan this time, enthusiastically nodding as your eyes shut in neediness. Yunho doesn’t appreciate that though, as his hands grab onto your ankles and a surge of strength overpowers him, pulling you to the edge of the bed while looking at him in surprise as he gives you a firm order.
“Words.”
You linger on his lips for a moment, head falling back. “Yes.”
Yunho smiles, satisfied at your answer as he glances at the digital alarm clock on the bedside table near him. 9:34 am.
“I need to be at the office by 10” he informs you, ripping the tassels of your hotel robe open as your naked body presents itself to him like precious gold. He falters his actions for a moment, realizing that your halter top wasn’t the only thing you took off earlier, but also your panties. He groans in pain as he leans in, breath hitting your face to gently kiss you, hoping you’ll unravel yourself and let him in further.
“My driver is waiting to take me downstairs” he huffs with a whisper, trailing kisses down your neck as you withered under him. Your nails claw the bottom of his neck, careful not to mess his hair.
“That means you’ve got six minutes to cum on my tongue and fingers” he coos, brushing your hair out of your face and letting his long fingers brush over your puffy clit. You jolt, grasping onto the material of his Valentino suit and crinkling the expensive material.
“Are you listening?”
“Yunho, please” you begged, aching to see the vision of his face in between your legs.
He grunts in response. “Fuckin’ love how you beg” before sinking to his knees in front of the mattress and diving into your pussy, your lips swiping against his nose repeatedly like the way his credit card would be once you’re done with him.
“Mm, ah!” you moaned loudly, grasping onto any form of support near you as Yunho’s tongue expertly explored your mound. You were practically gushing against him, your pelvis abducting in and out in desperation and for more attention.
Yunho’s eyes shut close, enjoying the smell of your cunt and the texture of your slick. He’s eaten lots of pussies in the past, but yours might just be one of his favourites.
“Look at yourself,” Yunho shakes his head, pulling back to critically analyze your body movements like it was the fucking stock market. “I press my tongue against you and you’re begging for mercy” he chuckles softly, veiny hands squeezing the mounds of your thighs and butt. Yunho brings his middle finger adorned with his cartier ring and thrusts it in your walls repeatedly, watching your eyes widen and respond almost immediately.
“Oh, fuck!” you yelled, confusion blossoming inside that sweet little head of yours when you look down and realize not even half of Yunho’s finger is stroking inside you right now. His digits were just far too long, and he knew it.
“Such a nice girl” Yunho praises, kissing your cheek and nibbling on your ear. His fingers insert themselves into you faster, making your vision blurry.
He glances over to the clock again while his face is pressed against your own, whispering soft praises to your open mouth that wails with delight.
“9:37” he announces as if you’re listening to any crap coming out of his mouth right now.
“Please, Yunho, please please please” you mumble repeatedly, feeling his body on top of you trail down to combine his tongue and fingers into your sopping wet hole, pushing you right over the edge.
“I want to taste more” he hums, dying out with the background noise of the heavy panting.
“Shut upp” you groan at him, turning mean because he’s not letting you take his mouth slowly. Yunho ignores it, choosing to slap your ass once again.
“C’mon, sweetheart, don’t make me late to the office. That’s it, give it to me” he moans in a borderline begging way, looking up at you from his position. Your tits are soft, plush and jiggling to the rhythm he’s set with his fingers fucking inside you. The veins in his neck bulge, obsessed with having some morning dew fall onto his tastebuds.
Finally, when your eyes water and a tear slips down, Yunho sighs in pure bliss as a gush of wetness flows into his mouth and runs down his fingers, having to hold one of your ankles down from moving too much.
“Y-Yunho-” you mutter breathlessly, eyes squeezing shut.
Yunho just made you cum with his mouth and fingers in record time. With two minutes to spare.
As your cum slides down to your ass, you hear Yunho call out to you gently. “We may be going out for evenings, by the way” wiping the sweat on his brow as he leans back on his knees for some balance after previously shoving his face in your cunt.
You try and catch your breath, letting go of the silk bed sheets and staring at the man who readjusts his suit and wipes the corners of his mouth. He takes out his credit card from his wallet and places it beside your left ankle.
“You’ll need something to wear tonight.” he huffs, taking a deep breath and smoothing his hair. You simply nod, tiredness rushing over you as you shut your eyes and hear his steps walk away. You figure he’s off to work.
And perhaps you doze off too easily, because before you know it a warm wet cloth is grazing your legs, cleaning you up as a kiss is pressed to your bent knee.
“Nothing flashy,” Yunho reminds you, looking into your eyes and speaking softly but firmly. He pets your hair. “Not too sexy. Conservative.” he says, wanting you to pick out something nice tonight for the meeting with Marinex’s fierce chairwoman and executive director grandson.
He watches as you pick up his black credit card from the sheets, examining the piece of plastic that contained far more potential than you realized.
“Boring” you translated back, rolling your eyes.
Yunho corrects you with a pinch to your cheek. “Elegant.”
You stare at each other in silence, both of you swallowing down the intense oral session you just had and recovering so you could start your day. Yunho is the first to break the spell.
“I’ll be in the lobby. 7:45 sharp” he pats the side of your thigh, raising to stand and shift his trousers for a moment. You glance down for a second, wondering how he’s doing under there.
You prop yourself up on your elbows to look at his reflection in the full length mirror, your soft cunt coming into view from behind him. You’re not sure what compels you to say it, much less with that much confidence, but the words slip out anyway, directed straight at him.
“I’m gonna treat you so nice, you’re never gonna wanna let me go, Yunho” you grin.
For a moment, there’s a pause — just long enough for you to wonder if you’ve overstepped. Then you catch the faintest raise of his eyebrow, the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. And somehow, that small reaction tells you more than any words could.
Yunho glances back, watching your legs shuffle seductively on the silk. Like a snake wreathing through his sheets.
“Eight thousand. For four days.” he reminds you, making the smirk on your face shorten just a little when he retorts back.
“And sweetheart, I will let you go”
When Yunho finally makes his way down to the front lobby, his limo driver is already waiting for him patiently, guiding him outside to where the limo awaits. He greets him as he holds the door out for him, oblivious to the sin he’s just performed fifty stories above. It isn’t long before he stops his employer, pointing to his necktie.
“Aw shucks, looks like you’ve got some latte spilled on your necktie, Mr. J” leaning forward to try and help rub out the mysterious white stain.
Yunho looks down, a faint smirk ghosting his lips before he stops him, assuring him as slides into the back seat, holding the end of his tie in his hand.
The above is from this article from The Guardian. The images are from MYA Network. The caption on their website reads:
Source: ‘When a sperm and egg get together, the body creates tissue in order to support the developing pregnancy. Here are photos of that tissue from 5-9 week pregnancies. This is called the gestational sac, and it’s like the “house” for the pregnancy. Inside this sac there are cells that have the potential to become a fetus but there is no visible embryo at this stage. We rinsed off the blood and menstrual lining (decidua) for these photographs.’
The published images sparked a lot of debate, leading to the story being picked up by other news outlets. For example:
Source: ‘Last week, the Guardian published images of pregnancy tissue after abortions in the first 10 weeks of pregnancy. The small size and appearance of the tissue were shocking to many. We have all absorbed, knowingly and unknowingly, the pervasive anti-abortion narrative that a pregnancy resembles a tiny baby starting in the earliest weeks. Though an early embryo can be seen under the magnification of ultrasound, it can take months for it to be perceptible to the naked eye.’
Source: ‘People have responded in disbelief, citing the (magnified) images they’ve seen on ultrasounds. […] ”Think of the illustrations on pregnancy and medical websites. The Mayo Clinic, one of the preeminent medical organizations in the country, shows week-by-week illustrations of embryonic and fetal development without any context of scale, like the rulers in the MYA photos.’
As stated in the article, whilst people talk about a ‘heartbeat’ at 6 weeks, there is no heart developed at this stage - only a group of cells that will become part of the heart.
Source: ‘But what exactly do we mean when we talk about a “fetal heartbeat” at six weeks of pregnancy? Although some people might picture a heart-shaped organ beating inside a fetus, this is not the case. Rather, at six weeks of pregnancy, an ultrasound can detect “a little flutter in the area that will become the future heart of the baby,” said Dr. Saima Aftab, medical director of the Fetal Care Center at Nicklaus Children’s Hospital in Miami. This flutter happens because the group of cells that will become the future “pacemaker” of the heart gain the capacity to fire electrical signals, she said.’
It should also be noted that the images show an embryo, not a fetus, until the 9th week.
Source: ‘In human pregnancies, a baby-to-be isn’t considered a fetus until the 9th week after conception, or week 11 after your last menstrual period (LMP).’
The co-founders of the MYA Network responded in a New York Times article.
Source: ‘Many people, even those who support abortion rights, did not believe the photos were accurate. Some insisted we had deliberately removed the embryos before taking the photos. The images weren’t consistent with those often seen in embryological textbooks, magnified on ultrasounds or used in anti-abortion propaganda; these enlarged images are not what you see with the naked eye after an abortion. A Stanford gynecologic pathologist has validated our photos, but many people could not believe the pictures were presented unaltered.
the abuse and humiliation Greta Thunberg is going through at the hands of the Israelis needs to be put in context with the dehumanising torture Palestinian prisoners are put through on the daily: the fact that darling Greta can be blindfolded and forced to crawl and kiss the Israeli flags - despite her international popularity and the protection her own government should guarantee her - is only possible because Israelis are allowed to beat, humiliate, starve and rape Palestinians to literal death without anyone stopping them.
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