iinception

He felt like his life had just been split into two moments: the moment before he signed, and the moment after.

After a few more meetings with the team at Kang Arts & Co., he found himself sitting in a conference room with Yeosang, going over the details of his first project, due to happen at some point in the near future if everything was to go well.

Yeosang had an open notebook in front of him and a pen in one hand, ready to jot down anything Hongjoong said. He was practically vibrating with excitement, ready to listen to all of Hongjoong’s hopes and wishes for his first official release.

They had discussed whether or not Hongjoong would debut with his full name, or just stick to Hongjoong and treat it like a stage name; the budding rockstar chose the latter option, and Yeosang happily made a note of it in the form of writing HONGJOONG: FIRST ALBUM at the top of the page.

Hongjoong gulped upon seeing the gigantic letters on a double-page spread in Yeosang’s notebook. All of it felt so surreal.

Yeosang turned to him. “Now.. we need a concept, a vision, for your first record. We obviously know you already have three songs under your belt; were you considering going in a similar sort of direction for your first album, or..?”

All of Hongjoong’s thoughts, all the things he’d spent months dreaming about before this point, every single detail he could have possibly conceived for his proverbial first album.. completely escaped him.

He sat there, across from Yeosang, his mind blank.

He ummed and erred for about thirty seconds until Yeosang broke him out of his trance. “Are you okay? Nothing coming to mind?” His eyebrows furrowed once Hongjoong glanced up at him.

“Um..” Hongjoong bit the inside of his cheeks and tensed up. “No, it’s- It’s not that..” He huffed a bit and dropped his head into his hands. “I have tons of ideas, I promise..” He lifted his head and looked at Yeosang, who had turned to a sympathetic look. “I think I’m just so overwhelmed with how fast everything is happening that I can’t come up with any of the ideas I thought of..” he said with a chuckle.

Yeosang smiled a little. “That’s perfectly understandable. At the very least, you have some ideas. Take your time, work through them, and let me know once they spring to mind.”

Hongjoong nodded, trying to rack his brains, but the truth was that as soon as he started to really think, another feeling crept up the base of his spine.

The confidence began to drain from his face, and Yeosang’s smile faded to full-on concern. “Hongjoong?”

“Sorry..” he mumbled. Crossing his hands over his chest, Hongjoong stared at the table, unable to meet Yeosang’s eyes. All of this made him feel so ungrateful, like he was taking this for granted. Really, he was scared. What if Yeosang hated his ideas? What if the label didn’t like them? Hongjoong had been pondering it for so long, and he had been so sure of his plans up until this very point.

The open double-page spread bore a title filled with expectations and a vacant space beneath yet to be filled with things he expected to be judged on.

Yeosang closed the book for the time being and put it aside. Hongjoong thanked him silently, for he felt able to breathe again.

“You know you can tell me all your worries, right?” assured Yeosang. Hongjoong chewed the inside of his lip. He still refused to look Yeosang in the eyes. “I don’t want you to feel like you can’t talk to me, okay? Or anyone here, really. That’s why we’re here.”

Hongjoong eventually took a deep breath in. He exhaled and felt the weight of the world leave his shoulders. Finally, he had the courage to look up at Yeosang, who had only the kindest eyes.

“I know.. Thank you, truly. I honestly can’t say it enough.” He straightened his back and sat up in the chair. “I have so many ideas, I’m just so scared you’ll all hate them.”

“Really?” Yeosang nearly scoffed in disbelief. He almost laughed at the absurdity, thinking he could make Hongjoong see that there was no way he would ever hate his ideas, but he stopped short once he saw the look in Hongjoong’s eyes. “Hongjoong.. I have every faith that your ideas are brilliant ones. And even if the rest of the label hates them, who are they to tell you you should do anything different? This is your album, you’re the artist; it is entirely up to you exactly what direction you decide to take it. No one should make you feel ashamed of just being yourself, especially when it comes to music, or any kind of art really.”

Hongjoong tried to listen to Yeosang, tried to make the words sink in, but there was still a brick wall.

Yeosang continued, “You are in charge of what you do with this album and your music, and no one in this company or anywhere can take that away from you.” He hardened his gaze to show that he meant it sincerely, and Hongjoong almost choked on a sob.

Hongjoong sighed and nodded, blinking away the tears. “Thank you. Again, I don’t know how many times I can say it.”

“Again, don’t mention it,” Yeosang grinned. “Now-” He brought the notebook into the centre and opened it to the same double-page spread. “I’m all ears.”

×-×

“I think I should try putting myself out there before the release of the new album.”

Seonghwa glanced over, brow raised. “In what way?”

“Live shows? Maybe I could try joining an open mic night or something.”

“Hm. Might be a bit tricky, but I absolutely endorse your enthusiasm.”

Hongjoong pouted a little, “How come?”

Seonghwa turned the faucet off then shook his hands before drying them on a towel. It gave him a chance to think of a response. “I mean.. Certain bars and clubs might not be open to the idea of an all-out rock concert. Most of the clubs ‘round here are pretty lowkey, and trying to score a nightclub gig when you’re not already established will be tough.”

Hongjoong hummed. He hadn’t thought of it from that perspective. “Okay, you’re not.. wrong, but, I wouldn’t consider the three songs I’ve written to be loud or aggressive or anything.”

“Don’t need to be. Show up with a guitar and you’re already toast,” said Seonghwa, half-jokingly.

A soft groan escaped Hongjoong. He appreciated Seonghwa’s bluntness, honestly he did.

Seonghwa folded his arms and leaned against the worktop. “I’d never wanna rain on your parade, you know that.” Hongjoong nodded. “It really does just depend on where you go. Certain places may be open to hearing you perform a line or two and if they think their regulars would like it, they’ll have you.”

“So, you say I should do an impromptu audition of some kind?” Hongjoong asked, half-jokingly, but his eyes held an earnestness.

Seonghwa rolled his eyes playfully. “Go look in the newspaper. Some bars might have ads. You never know what’ll turn up.”

Hongjoong considered it, then left the kitchen and dove straight for the nearest newspaper.

He scanned the ads section for anything promising, until he happened upon a small square box in the bottom right hand corner of the page. His eyes lit up, and he gasped loudly. “Seonghwa, you’re a psychic!”

“..I just made a suggestion..” Seonghwa mumbled to himself, mildly confused. “I take it you’ve found something!” he yelled.

“Cover singer wanted for a local underground bar in downtown Seoul. Must be willing to perform this weekend, both Saturday and Sunday. Cash in hand, ₩130,000 for both nights! That’s it!” exclaimed Hongjoong. He couldn’t wait. He folded up the paper, then grabbed his jacket and put on his shoes.

“Don’t you wanna take your guitar?” asked Seonghwa, appearing in the entrance hall.

“Oh! Good point.” Hongjoong ran back to get his guitar, carefully picking it up and putting it over his shoulder. “Don’t wait up for me, I’ll be back a bit later.”

“What bar are you going to? I’ll meet you there in a little while. I could do with getting out the house, to be honest.”

As Hongjoong flew out of the door, he shouted the name of the bar. The door slammed shut, and Seonghwa flinched.

It took him a few seconds, but once he registered the name, he pulled an awkward face.

“Ah. Mountain Top Merlot,” he remarked to himself. “The jazziest, most lowkey bar in the entirety of Seoul.” He shook his head lightly, allowing a smile to sweep across his face. “Ah, Hongjoong. May you never cease to inspire me.”

i may have been a little bit unapologetically earnest never been the type to hide exactly who i am and you saw that you stuck up for me, you held out your hand

After a series of back and forths whereby Hongjoong asked anyone he could where the fabled Mountain Top Merlot was, he found himself standing outside the entrance, guitar like a boulder on his back.

“Well.. You’ve made it,” he muttered to himself.

It was still early in the evening. Hongjoong looked at the opening times and found that it was open from midday to midnight from Monday to Saturday. It was closed on Sunday, which he figured made some sense.

Now that he was standing outside the bar, he felt an odd nervousness that prevented him from stepping inside.

All around him, people came and went, brushing against his shoulders and his back, to the point he was pushed towards the door. He took a giant step back and swallowed the lump in his throat. Come on, you’re here now, why can’t you just go in?

Hongjoong went to turn away, when he heard the door open behind him.

“Can I help you with anything, sir?” Neutral, polite, like a passing wind.

Hongjoong froze. The path seemed to grip his feet like a maximum strength adhesive. He clung onto his guitar case and took a deep breath in before turning back to whoever was behind him. Hongjoong imagined it was one of the bartenders; when he turned around and saw a man with short, black hair, wearing a white tunic with slacks and a burgundy apron on top, he was proven right.

Hongjoong spotted a name badge on the apron: San.

The man - San - held a damp cloth and was idly throwing it back and forth between his two hands. Eventually he stopped and placed his hands on his hips, not impatient whatsoever, but merely curious. Hongjoong could tell he had noticed the guitar case on his shoulder and was silently inquiring about his business here.

“Um.. Sorry, I was just-” Hongjoong had the newspaper in his opposite hand. He couldn’t exactly back down now, and he knew he shouldn’t. He had made it all the way over here and he was going to dredge up some courage from somewhere and tell this kind bartender about it. Hey, he thought, maybe he’d be the perfect person to ask.

Extending his arm, Hongjoong brought the newspaper into San’s view, who looked down at it with knitted brows. He explained, “I saw an ad in the paper, about your bar looking for a cover singer?”

San’s face lit up in understanding. “Ah!” He clicked his fingers. “Yes!” He pointed a finger at Hongjoong briefly. “You came just in time, the boss was getting worried no one would turn up!”

“Oh, so you’re not the..” Hongjoong’s voice trailed off.

“Nah, no, not me. I’m just a regular old bartender, working five nights a week and sometimes six if the boss can pull my arm out its socket.” Hongjoong grimaced at that visual. “Well, let’s not wait around. Come in, follow me,” beamed San, his smile revealing quite the adorable pair of dimples.

Hongjoong nodded, muttered a thank you, and followed San into Mountain Top Merlot.

“Welcome, welcome. I’m San, by the way, if you didn’t catch the uh, name tag.” He showed the badge off to Hongjoong, who smiled and said he had caught it. “Cool! Well, the boss will be out back I suspect,” he said as they approached the bar, “he’s only in for like a couple hours every day. It’s a good thing you showed up when you did, had you been half an hour later you’d have missed him! Of course, I probably would’ve asked you to come back tomorrow but it’s better you’re here now, today.”

Hongjoong nodded along, trying to keep up with everything San said. He watched as San tapped out a beat on the counter then asked one of his colleagues where the boss was. His heart started drumming in his chest. Each second he was closer to meeting the manager, the more he swelled up with stage fright.

San rested an elbow on the counter and turned back to Hongjoong. “So.. What kinda music do you play?”

Hongjoong blinked out of his wayward thoughts and looked at San. “Hm?”

San chuckled. “Your music, what do you play?”

“Oh, oh, my music?” San nodded, genuinely intrigued. Other bartenders had also started to take notice as they filled up glasses for customers.

Hongjoong took a good look at his surroundings.

He breathed in what he was sure was the fresh scent of coffee and spotted all the lowlights sitting in mason jars suspended from the ceiling. Folks were sitting around tables in groups of two or three but no more than four, talking quietly among themselves and sipping flutes of port, champagne and of course, merlot. Or the glasses were shorter, more crystalised and held rich, umber fluids of either scotch or whiskey. There was ambient music playing, soft, reserved and piano-heavy. No lyrics or vocals to be found. No strong bass lines and if there was a drum kit it was delicate. Light taps on a snare drum, whispers of a cymbal here and there.

Hongjoong definitely enjoyed this music in his downtime, but it was the complete polar opposite of the music he played.

Show up with a guitar and you’re already toast.

Hongjoong brought his guitar case closer to his chest, thinking the mere sight of it would see him kicked out of the building. Despite the patrons not even paying attention he felt them scrutinising every aspect of his appearance and the fact he held such an abhorrent instrument in his grasp. It was silly, really, why would San bring him in here if they were to be so dissenting towards it?

But then again, he hadn’t met the manager yet.

Hongjoong knew he hadn’t answered San’s question yet, and San was still waiting - albeit patiently - for a response. San wondered if it was simply cold feet.

“I- I like to play.. rock music..” The genre sounded so unsure on his tongue and tripped feebly out of his mouth.

San straightened up. Whatever the reason, it made alarm bells ring in Hongjoong’s head. “Rock music, huh? That’s really neat, what kind?”

“It’s um- I guess you could say it’s on the heavier side, sometimes, but I can do softer songs!” The words came out like a plea, as if he was already tuned in to exactly what the manager would say the minute he saw the band-shirt-jeans-clad-guitar-playing wannabe in his refined establishment.

San caught on to this change of tone, but couldn’t reply to it before he heard his boss’ voice resonating through the bar.

“Who wanted me?”

Hongjoong almost dropped his case.

San bit the inside of his cheek and mouthed to Hongjoong: let me handle this. “Hey, boss! How you doing?”

“Very well, was it you who called?”

“Yep! Someone-” he began, indicating Hongjoong with a nod of the head, “has seen the ad you put in the paper for a cover singer!”

The manager gazed around, completely ignoring Hongjoong. “Where is the singer, then?”

Hongjoong wanted the ground beneath him to swallow him whole.

San gruffed a bit then drew an imaginary box in the air directly in front of Hongjoong.

The manager glanced over. He took one look at Hongjoong  and scoffed. “What, him?”

Hongjoong closed in on himself. San bit his tongue. “Yes, him. His name is- I beg your pardon, I never asked for your name!”

“Uh, Hongjoong..”

“Hongjoong! He’s shown up, and he seems ready and willing to audition.”

The manager stepped forward and rested both hands on the counter. Hongjoong felt like an ant beneath his microscope. “Let me guess, you’re a wannabe rockstar, right? Skinny jeans, band shirt, guitar, yeah, you’ve got it all,” he said, derisively. San fixed him a glare that went unnoticed. Hongjoong avoided his gaze by staring at the ground. “Listen, my bar is full of regulars who prefer to marvel at the tasteful compositions of the classics. They want soft, slow, elegant. They do not want to hear misery tales set against badly played guitar chords and abrasive drum solos.”

Every part of Hongjoong was set ablaze, engulfing his entire form in hot, seething anger that threatened to burst through his jaw and break every glass in the room.

San looked back and forth between his boss and Hongjoong, before standing between them and giving his boss a challenging look.

“Why are you so quick to judge, eh?” He treaded carefully with this accusation, but the head-on approach still made his colleagues look askance in shock. “You haven’t even heard him play. For all you know, it could be exactly what the patrons are looking for.”

The manager laughed like San was a bit of lint he could flick off at a moment’s notice. “I have been the manager of this bar for the last fifteen years. I’ve come to understand my customers and what they enjoy, and it’s nowhere in the realm of shredding.”

“Who says they won’t enjoy something different, though? Perhaps a change of pace is exactly what this bar needs, and if Hongjoong can provide that for even two nights.. I’d say it’s well worth giving him a shot. At least let him try his set out on all the customers here.” San gestured to everyone seated around their tiny tables. “Let them be the judge.”

For a moment, Hongjoong thought the manager was going to throw him out before swiftly crushing San into a million pieces. But his eyes flickered, he observed the crowd of patrons, then exhaled, long and deep.

“Hey, look,” San cut in, “if by some miracle I’m wrong about this, you can cut some of my day’s wages for this month.”

Hongjoong’s eyes grew wide. “N-No, please, don’t-”

The manager pouted then nodded his head. “Alright, you got it.” He turned to Hongjoong. “Be ready on the stage in ten minutes. I’ll be standing back here. San, as you’re so gracious, you can introduce him.” He turned his back and left the bar area.

San grinned then turned to Hongjoong, who had a look of sheer horror on his face. “Shall we get you ready?”

Hongjoong’s jaw dropped. “You- You seriously- I-”

The look on San’s face was one of pure friendliness and heart. “Absolutely. I have no doubt you’ll be amazing and that they’ll like you.”

“But your wages! If you’re wrong..”

“Then I’ll take it, I do not mind. If I’m being honest, I’m sick of him being so uptight about all of it. He’s so narrow-minded about music, it drives me crazy.”

Hongjoong hummed sadly. He had been there before.

“And hey, I guarantee that even if the regulars don’t gel with it, you’ll have one fan!” San’s smile widened. For some reason, Hongjoong felt at ease, as baffled as he was at this outpouring of kindness.

“You’re seriously willing to do this for me?”

“Everyone deserves a little bit of help here and there. If I can help a budding musician out, then I’d be remiss not to.” Hongjoong finally allowed himself to relax. His lips tilted upwards. “Now,” said San, leading Hongjoong away from the bar and towards the stage area, “tell me more about you and your music..”

your smile a mile wide i’ll never turn a blind eye to how you met me more than halfway you put me on my first stage and though no loss was had i’ll always want to repay the wage

“Ahem, attention everyone!” The microphone whined as the patrons of Mountain Top Merlot looked to the stage. San grinned and cleared his throat again. “Thank you, um, we have a special performance here for you today. He is an up-and-coming musician from Anyang, and he is here today to perform a couple of his songs for you.” The couples, trios and quartets sat around their tiny tables straightened their backs in intrigue. The ambient music was turned off and a spotlight suddenly shone on San, who squinted as he adjusted to its brightness. The bartender behind the small sound and lighting table at the back dimmed the spotlight a bit, and San gave a thumbs up once it was at the right level. “There we go. Now, like I said, he’s an up-and-coming musician who has recently signed with Kang Arts & Co., and is set to release his first album at some point in the near future.” The crowd exchanged curious looks. The manager lifted his head, now very interested. “He’s quite nervous, so, please give him the warmest welcome to Mountain Top Merlot. Hongjoong!”

San stood to the side and applauded Hongjoong’s entrance. Everyone in the bar followed suit, some more enthusiastically than others. Hongjoong timidly approached the microphone centre stage, his guitar already on his shoulder.

One look to the right, and Hongjoong noticed San give him two thumbs up, beaming at him with an unabashed level of encouragement. San then promptly left the stage to head to the booth at the back and take over from the other bartender.

Hongjoong watched him go, then gazed out into the crowd. Words left him as he stared at the dozens of eyes gaping back at him like hawks in a forest. His hands were stiff, his fingers were numb, and his shoulders were tense.

“Um.. H-Hello everyone..” The microphone almost screamed back at him. San fought with the settings, turning dials this way and that until he was sure everything was sorted. Hongjoong tried again, and the feedback was much calmer. “H-Hi! Yes, my name is Hongjoong. I am from Anyang, as uh.. as San has already told you..” The awkwardness was palpable. Hongjoong coughed. “I have written three songs so far, but as San explained, I am due to release my first album sometime in the near future so, please, look forward to that..” The patrons started to gaze around the room. Hongjoong panicked; he was losing them. “I- I remember writing this first song when I was eighteen. I had no idea I would even make it to Seoul, let alone be standing on any kind of stage performing for people or even signed to a label! I have been.. extraordinarily lucky, ha..” Hongjoong realised he had to get started or the manager would probably kick him off stage. “Right, this first song. This song is called Trust in Mistrust.”

Hongjoong knew this song like the back of his hand, had played it so many times, and yet he fumbled over the first chord. He was so damn nervous.

The manager was beginning to get impatient. He glared at San from across the room, and San eventually looked back at him.

San swallowed the lump in his throat, pushed his shoulders back, and applauded loudly.

“Go, Hongjoong!”

Hongjoong glanced up. As did everyone else.

Soon enough, the bartenders joined in.

Hongjoong was overwhelmed at the amount of support. He took a deep breath in, and with the guitar pick firmly in his grasp, he played the first chord, then the next..

The ovation died down gently, allowing Hongjoong to fill the entire room with music.

When he started to sing, his voice was stable, resonant and wonderfully characteristic.

He closed his eyes and allowed the melody to carry him. Slowly but surely, he fell into the song’s hold, and it drifted him from one bar to the next, from verse to chorus to verse again.

By the time he brought the song to a close, the bar had drifted into stunned silence.

Hongjoong opened his eyes. He observed the crowd, awaiting their reaction with bated breath.

A pin dropped, then everyone started to clap.

The response was overwhelming. Hongjoong stepped to the side and took a bow, smiling from ear to ear.

San ran to the stage and stood next to him, congratulating him and complimenting him on how good his performance was.

Hongjoong couldn’t speak or even think.

“That was amazing! I knew you could do it!”

San patted him on the back and enticed more applause from the crowd.

The manager exhaled in slight exasperation, but even he couldn’t deny it.

Mountain Top Merlot had been won over.

Hongjoong locked eyes with the manager from across the bar. His smile instantly faded. Pure nerves drowned out every other sense in the book.

Once the patrons had quietened down, the manager stepped out from behind the bar and walked over to the stage.

A collective sense of dread washed over everyone in the building. Hongjoong backtracked. San moved to stand in front of him again.

Picking up the microphone, the manager sighed. “Well, it’d be wrong of me to suggest that they didn’t enjoy it. And I can’t lie, you’ve swayed me a little.” San couldn’t help the corner of his lips turning up. “You’ve got two more songs under your belt, you said?”

Hongjoong gulped and nodded.

“Okay.” He put the mic back on its stand. “Let’s hear ‘em.” He left without another word and went to the back of the bar.

The crowd’s excitement picked up steam as Hongjoong rushed to prepare himself for the second and third song in his set.

San gave him another word of reassurance before disappearing to the booth, leaving Hongjoong to stand before the microphone once again.

At that moment, the door to the bar opened and Seonghwa stepped in.

Immediately, he was shocked to find Hongjoong on the stage, but that shock quickly faded to sheer pride.

Hongjoong found him by the entrance and grinned. Seonghwa mirrored his expression, bringing his hands together in a prayer motion: nice one! He took a seat at the bar, excited to hear Hongjoong perform.

Seconds Before, Seconds After.

On the Road We Take to Nowhere.

The crowd loved them.

Hongjoong bowed after each song, and thanked the crowd from the bottom of his heart for such a response.

San appeared on stage beside him at the very end, overcome with happiness.

Hongjoong shook his hand and thanked him, most sincerely of all, for the chance he gave him.

Once they were both offstage, San muttered, “You were amazing, and sure, the manager might still be uptight, but he isn’t gonna argue with that response! You did that. Your music did that.”

“But I only got that opportunity because you challenged him,” Hongjoong was quick to remind him.

“And I was never gonna regret it. For any reason.”

And Hongjoong would never forget it. That, and his mile wide smile.

taglist: @bikerjongho × @viviixlyy

like really love them.

it started off as a harmless little date, if you can call lounging together in his empty dorm that. as you had promised, you didn’t watch the new music video until you were with him, seonghwa and mingi out somewhere. despite there being no one home, you and san confined yourselves to his bedroom, basking in his smell as you cuddled up to him in bed while he pulled up the video on his phone.

you watched with rapt interest, giggling at the absurdity of the scenes, commenting on some details every now and then. he watched you instead, grinning from ear to ear and revelling in all your praises, occasionally leaning down to sneak a kiss on your head.

“you’ve outdone yourselves, really,” you turned your head to look at him from his chest as the music video ended and he set the phone on his bedside table, “and you looked good doing it!”

he snorted as you wiggled your eyebrows, shifting you to lay on top of him, “yeah? you think so?”

“mhm,” you hummed and nodded, leaning down to peck his lips teasingly, “very handsome.”

“flattery’s not gonna get you anywhere, baby,” he rolled his eyes playfully despite the tender caresses of his fingers on your hips, brushing under the hem of the shirt you stole from his closet a while ago. one of his hands left your hip to tangle into your hair, pulling your face closer to his as he muttered, “come here.”

you complied, leaning down the rest of the way to press your lips against his softly, smiling into the kiss as your eyes fluttered shut. teasingly, you pulled away a few times, grinning as you pecked his li s repeatedly until he had had enough and held you in place by the back of your neck.

he sighed quietly and you felt all his muscles relax under your touch. his tongue ran along your bottom lip before dipping in, making you gasp softly as the kiss turned heated.

one kiss led to more, usually, because in a matter of moments his shirt had been discarded along with his sweatpants and your panties as he guided you over his length with his hands on your hips. your whimpers and his groans melded together as they echoed of his bedroom walls and you were silently grateful his roommates weren’t home.

san’s head tipped back against his pillows as you leaned down to kiss his neck sweetly, whining against his skin as his pounded up into you to meet the rolls of your hips. he groaned as you clenched around him, the feeling of his thick cock inside you and his pelvis hitting your clit with each thrust quickly making a knot form deep in your abdomen.

you mewled softly, stuttering out a quiet “‘m c-close” between your moans and whimpers. your abdomen clenched, heat spreading throughout your body as you prepared yourself to be hit with an orgasm.

only for him to lift you off his dick right at the last second, making you lift your head to look at him with a frown as your thighs twitched and your chest heaved, catching your breath. he grinned in return, holding your hips firmly so you had no way to move for a few moments. your core pulsed and clenched around nothing, the wetness of it making a faint squelching sound that had him raising a teasing eyebrow at you.

“you’re mean.” you pouted once you finally caught your breath, wiggling your hips in attempt to sink back down on him.

“hush, i just wanna try something,” he rolled his eyes and pulled your hips forward before setting you down on his stomach; his abs. he caught the way your eyes fluttered as your clit pressed against his skin, or at least he assumed so—the shirt you had on obscured your heat from his view as you pressed yourself down on him. his voice came out mildly cocky, “ride.”

“w-what?” your eyes snapped open, blinking almost comically.

“ride my abs,” he repeated as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, “and when you finish i’ll let you cum on my cock.”

you didn’t have to be told twice, letting him slide you against him slowly at first, dragging your pussy along him and making your your clit catch on every ridge of his abs.

“that’s it, baby, you look so pretty like this,” he practically purred as he felt you move on your own, pressing against him desperately as little sounds tumbled from your lips. he moved his hands to knead your thighs before lifting one, grabbing a fistful of the hem of your shirt and lifting it to your waist, groaning as he noticed the sticky threads connecting your pissy to his abs whenever you lifted off him, “fuck… can i film this? please, babe?”

unable to form any coherent sentences, you merely nodded, slowing your movements as his hands leaves your thigh to grab his phone off the bedside table, the hem of your shirt still balled up behind your back as he tugged lightly. his hand shook a little as he opened his camera app, holding it close to his face as he recorded the way your hips stuttered as he tensed his muscles, making you let out a breathy whine.

“look at you,” he cooed softly, almost a teasing lilt his voice, “you sound so pretty for me, don’t you? that’s right, baby, keep going just like that… does it feel good? hm, sweetheart?”

his tone made your cheeks flush, giving him a shy nod as you subconsciously pick up your pace, your moans growing louder as your puffy clit glides along his torso greedily. “y-yes, sannie, ‘s so good.”

“that’s my girl,” he smirked as he felt your legs press against his sides a little harder at his praises, practically feeling your cunt pulse against him. he tugged at the hem of your shirt, prompting you to pull it off clumsily, your arms trembling. his hungry gaze roamed all over your naked form, angling his phone to capture your face as well as he hummed appreciatively, “as much as i love fucking you in my shirts, i think you’re much prettier like this… all bare and all mine.”

his words seemed to be your last straw as you cried out, his name slipping between your moans as your hips stuttered and slowed and your body twitched. he groaned as he watched you come apart on top of him, shutting off his phone and tossing it aside before sitting up, making you slide down to sit on his lap.

his length of his hard cock covered your pulsing heat, making you twitch from the brief overstimulation as he pressed his lips against yours, muttering between kisses, “you did so well, baby, so perfect for me.”

you laughed breathily against his lips, melting against him and winding your arms around his broad shoulders. you let him kiss you for a few moments before your hips absentmindedly rocked against him, smiling when his breathed hitched.

“still want more, pretty?” he rasped as he pulled away, kissing the corner of your lips as his hands helped moving you against him.

you hummed softly, nodding as your hand ran through his hair, twirling a short lick around your finger before slipping them back down around his shoulder.

“you’re always so needy, hm?” he chuckled lowly. a moment later you were on your back, pressed against the mattress as he hovered over you, his heavy tip sliding against your clit teasingly and making your hips buck against him, whimpering. he leaned down, biting your earlobe as he whispered, “god, you’re insatiable.”

networks. @cromernet @wonderlandnet @cultofdionysusnet @pirateeznet @atzhouse

Nearly an hour later, he sent you a text to let you know he didn't mind waiting and was still in the same spot, asking how much longer you would be. If you needed more time, he'd go to the nearby café for a drink while waiting. But he frowned when 10 minutes passed, and you hadn't even been online; his message was sent but still unread. The final straw was when his call went unanswered.

Despite feeling panic creep in, he tried to stay calm as he walked into the lobby of your office building. Breathe, Jung Wooyoung, breathe. He tells himself you were probably just really busy. But why? You had told him the peak season ended a week ago, so this should have been a slow week. It didn't make sense that you were working so late now. What weren't you telling him?

Crap, is she cheating on me?

Slapping himself on the cheek, he chastised himself for even entertaining such a thought. You had been nothing but the best and most dedicated girlfriend he'd ever had. How could he think that way about you? Now, he only prayed you were alright. What if something had happened to you? What if you had passed out? What if someone at work was doing something untoward to you? He remembered you mentioning a coworker who persistently pursued you despite knowing you were taken.

Well, that wasn’t comforting at all.

"Come on, come on, come on!" he muttered through gritted teeth as he watched the elevator numbers climb slowly. He only needed to get to the ninth floor, but the trip had never felt longer. His mind conjured up all sorts of wild scenarios, and his heart was pounding in his chest. He needed to see you right now, to have you safe and sound in front of him so he could be okay again.

Ding!

Before the elevator doors fully opened, he was already dashing out at full speed. The dim, empty reception counter of your department greeted him as he sprinted towards your office—the only place he knew to go. "I'm coming, love. Just wait for me."

He had no idea what to expect as he saw your door open, the light from your room spilling into the dark and silent office. Anxiety flooded him as he braced for the unexpected. And indeed, it was unexpected. His steps faltered as he stopped to catch his breath at the entrance of your office, eyes glued to the sight before him. He didn't know whether to cry or laugh at the extent of his overthinking.

Wooyoung let out a huge sigh of relief, his eyes softening as he took in your petite frame, now slumped over your workdesk, fast asleep amidst piles of documents. The glaring screen of your PC reflected off your glasses, which were crooked on your face as you snored lightly. Your phone, in silent mode, lay beside you.

This explained everything.

Your boyfriend approached you slowly, careful not to wake you yet. With one glance at your computer, he immediately understood why you had been so busy today. Your team leader's emergency leave had left you responsible for a case that ran into some hiccups. Scrolling down the trail of emails, he felt relieved to see that you had eventually solved the issue. The exhaustion must have hit you hard once the adrenaline was gone.

Gently, he removed your glasses from your face, placing them back in their case before running his hand through your hair, tucking loose strands away from your face. Unable to resist, he leaned down to press a lingering kiss onto your temple.

That seemed to have stirred you awake. You emitted a small groan and fluttered your eyes open, prompting him to step back slightly. But you reached out and held onto his shirt.

"Woo? Wh-what are you doing here?"

He shook his head, planting another kiss on your cheek before standing upright, his hands resting on his hips. "What kind of boyfriend would I be if I let you sleep in the office, hm? Pack up now, we're going home."

Your heart warmed at his words. Just when you thought it wasn't possible to love him any more, he continued to prove you wrong each time. "Yes, sir."

Despite his directive, he ended up doing all the packing for you as your sleepy form waited by his side. After shutting down your PC, he reached for your bag and wrapped an arm around your shoulder. "Come, let's go."

Suddenly, in the elevator, he found himself wishing the trip would last longer. He pulled your cardigan snugly around you, sliding an arm behind your back and resting his forehead against yours. Admiring the way your sleep-deprived eyes drooped adorably, he grinned softly, biting his lip. His other hand cupped your face as he whispered, "Just hold on a little longer, love. You'll get to rest soon."

You nodded with a pout, and the sight of your tempting pink, soft lips made a sigh escape his mouth. "Good girl," he muttered before leaning in to capture your lips.

His heart skipped a beat when, despite your exhaustion, you responded to his kiss almost instinctively, though a bit more sluggish than usual. His heart swelled with affection at how your body reacted to him, knowing it was only for him. Stroking your cheeks lovingly, he deepened the kiss, only to let out a disappointed whine when the elevator dinged too soon.

You giggled, gently pushing him away. "You know we can continue in the car, right?" His excitement reignited at the suggestion. Insisting he'd help you with your things and settling you in the passenger seat first, he felt his heart flutter as he hurried to the driver's seat. "Alright, where were we?" he asked eagerly, only to find you fast asleep.

Of course, she's asleep. What did I expect?

He chuckled in disbelief, securing your seatbelt and shaking his head in amusement. As he started driving, he slipped his hand into yours, smiling when he felt your fingers unconsciously curling around his.

God, how he loved you.

ATEEZ Masterlist

This is me failing miserably at my "try to stay loyal to Park Seonghwa challenge" because what the hell is Jung Wooyoung so attractive for? The way bro made me write the longest timestamp to date...

Also, guess who clowned herself thinking she could post the first part of Mingi's TWTHH spinoff this weekend?🤡 it's only 1k+ words in so far, I was out all day yesterday and didn't get to write much huhu but hopefully by next week, it'll be out! Hopefully🤞🏻

Anyways, hope y'all enjoyed this random little timestamp and as always, let me know your thoughts! <3

General ATEEZ Tag list:

@aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina @huachengsbestie01 |

@evidive @weedforthoughtz @minkiflwr @cheolliehugs @ho3-for-yunho |

@the-kpop-simp @itstheghostofmypast @vantediary @green-agent @skzline |

@sharksandminhos @writingwieny @heyitsmetonid @tinyteezer @hollxe1 |

@pandabur666 @vampzity @tournesol155 @lilactangerine @oddracha |

@haven-cove @idfkeddieishot

the idea of being cursed or haunted by anything isn’t one you think about often, considering yourself protected by your father’s profession. at least one dusty bible on every bookshelf in the colonial monstrosity that is your home and crucifixes hung all around, it seems to be common sense that an exorcist’s home would be the safest place to hide from the dark.

unaware of it all, you used to let yourself be tucked into your lace-trimmed bedsheets as he pulled you to sleep with stories. tales of fallen angels and possessed souls became the lullabies of your childhood. admittedly, you were quite terrified of it all, but as you grew older and wiser, you realised there was no way they could get to you. but really, it was wishful thinking.

you weren’t aware of who your father used to be, nor were you aware of the debt he owed to a particular demon.

the dreams started the night after your twentieth birthday, vivid and unsettling. a man haunted them, equally as terrifying as he was handsome. tall and clad in dark silks, his whispered words and hungry eyes intrigued you. his touch, though a figment of your imagination, sent shivers down your spine, foreign yet infinitely alluring. you’d wake up with a jolt, panting, flushed cheeks and tingling skin as the dream stuck to you like cobwebs. your father passed the repeated dreams off as nightmares and you failed to notice the flash of fear cross his features.

one night, however, you were changing in your room. dimly illuminated by multiple candles you set around since you didn’t like how bright the large chandelier was, you held a dress in each of your hands, standing in front of the mirror as you held the clothing to your body in an attempt to figure out what to wear. you didn’t notice at first, but a figure lurked in the shadows of the bedroom. you didn’t notice the shift in the atmosphere or the flicker of the candles.

but soon, a soft sigh sounded through the room, so soft it could’ve been mistake for a whistling breeze outside your window. goosebumps prickled at your skin as you tensed, refusing to move at the oddly human sound. staring at yourself in the mirror intently, you caught a glimpse of a familiar face in the reflection of your mirror. your breath hitched as you fixed your eyes on him, afraid that if you blinked, he’d disappear.

you watched him. watched him take slow steps towards you as he smirked at the sight of your wide, fearful yet infinitely pure and innocent eyes. you convinced yourself you were hallucinating, the disturbingly realistic sounds of his footsteps as much of a figment of imagination as his being. but as he stood right behind you, a coldness swept over your skin and you flinched as his breath fanned against your bare shoulder. whipping around in surprise, you yelped softly at the sensation. but he was gone, and you were alone. breath erratic and eyes stinging, you scrambled to move a wooden cross stand from the top of your dresser to your bedside table.

after that you grew paranoid, always looking over your shoulder, sleeping with at least two safe and reliable candles lit. each time you walked through the hallways of your own home, you kept your gaze fixed on the ground, refusing to look at the portraits lining the dark walls as you thought they were watching you. the tiniest of sounds made you flinch and break a sweat, squeezing your eyes shut and muttering prayers, only to find out the sound came from either of your parents.

the constant state of fear and anxiety left you tired, deciding if your father wasn’t going to do anything about it, you would. on quiet feet, you crept through the halls at noon (you were too scared to go to that room at night), a rosary wrapped around your hand with a dainty little cross hanging from your clenched palm.

you father really was a well-known exorcist, often to go on trips within and beyond the country to treat what doctors couldn’t; demonic possessions. as a symbol of his successes and a means to prevent others from coming in contact with whatever a demon may have attached itself to, he brought home trophies and locked them in a little storage room in the basement. of course, he took many precautions—crucifixes all over the inside and outside, sprinkles of holy water here and there, he’d have your local priest come over and bless the area himself. despite all this, you never once stepped in, partially because your father advised you not to, mostly because you were completely and utterly terrified.

as you descended the creaking wooden stairs, a chill ran through you, the hairs at your nape standing in alert. maybe you were scaring yourself more than the room scared you. the dust tickled your nostrils, making you force down a sneeze as you cleared your throat. the wooden floorboards extended into a narrow hallway, lined by cobblestone walls. you rarely came down, in fact, you couldn’t remember the last time you were there, the surroundings seeming so foreign. there were only two doors, one leading to a storage closet and the other to a slightly scarier storage closet.

you stared up at the ominous door, standing tall and intimidating, a golden cross embossed right in the centra, doorknob dark and rusted. with shaky hands, you fished a copper from the hidden pocket of your plaid gown. it half-hearted a few sloppy attempts until you got the key in, squeezing your eyes shut as you force yourself to finally turn it.

another chill ran through your body as you push the door open weakly, cracking an eye open to look inside. had you come at night, you wouldn’t have been able to see anything, the only source of light being an elongated shirt window lining the top of the right wall, an inch below the ceiling. three shelves. one on the right, one of the left, and one down the middle of the room. the middle and left one were lined with various objects. you walked between them, looking but not daring to touch. the objects were quite diverse, you realised. dolls, clocks, little statues.

you took your time to get to the shelf you needed. along with these objects, you father also locked away any books he had that were related to demons in any way. most of them were confiscated from cults, some of their were from his personal collection. he claimed they were to protect you, and you didn’t completely disbelieve him. taking a deep breath before letting it out in a sigh, looking at all the titles. your fingertips ran over their leather bound spines, feeling the wrinkles and grooves. you knew there would be a lot, but as you looked upon the entire shelf, you estimated a good hundred-fifty books.

he organised them by categories. summoning, excommunication, identifying. identifying. that’s what you needed. you took a closer look at the section, nervousness fading briefly to be replaced by a faint taste of hope.

the encyclopaedia of demons and demonology.

deciding there had to be something in there, you pulled it out. the book itself was simple, bound in black leather. the cover was nothing special, just the title and author. by the looks of it, you’d be here for a while, seemingly at least three hundred pages long. you looked around the dark room, a small wooden desk was tucked into the corner though not a chair in sight. with a soft sigh, you walked over on weak knees, apprehensive about what you’d find in the book.

despite your father’s profession and all the bedtime stories, you never came in contact with demons or the spirit world. setting the book on the desk, you opened it to the index, having to squint to make out the text. but the next time you lifted your eyes off the page, a brass candle holder was tucked into the corner of the table.

you blinked. there was no way that was there before, but maybe you had just missed it. the pale yellow candle stood half melted, the hardened wax forming veins that ran down the sides and pooled in the brass bowl.

you held your breath momentarily before beginning to read through the a to z list of demons and other dark entities and their descriptions. you only skimmed, lingering on any that mentioned appearing in nightmares only to dismiss them when the rest of their descriptions didn’t match with your experience. surprised by just how much there was to read, you felt just a little curious, occasionally stopping to read extracts that had piqued your interest. it wasn’t until you got all the way to section i where something actually seemed to be helpful.

‘incubus—a lewd male demon who pursues women for sex. the incubus and his female counterpart, the succubus, visit women and men in their sleep, lie and press heavily upon them, and seduce them.’

you nearly missed it, continuing your skimming until the description registered, scrambling to turn back the page and reread it.

“oh.” you breathed at the realisation. that seemed to be the most accurate thus far, your finger tracing over the name as you furrowed your eyebrows and continued reading. the next paragraphs detailed how they’re conjured and where the name came from. you read some more.

‘incubi are especially attracted to women with beautiful hair, young virgins, chaste widows, and all “devout” females. nuns are among the most vulnerable and could be molested in the confessional as well as in bed. while the majority of women are forced into sex by the incubi, some of them submit willingly and even enjoy the act. it once was a common belief that women were more likely than men to be the sexual victims of demons, because women were inferior to men and less able to resist temptation.

incubi have enormous phalluses that—’

slamming the book shut, your eyes widened and a deep blush settled over your features, just staring at the cover for a moment as you collected yourself from the sudden vulgarity of the writing. after a moment, you cleared your throat and reopened the page, strategically skipping over the next paragraphs that detailed accounts of intercourse with such a demon.

‘an incubus may form attachments to those whose minds are occupied with dark and inherently sexual desires, those that are impure. one also can be summoned for coital gratifications, or a deal in which one’s first born is ommonly offered to repay their sevices (see: dealing with the demons, page 218).’

but that couldn’t be right. you always made sure to be a good girl, always helped at home. you volunteered to read to children at a local orphanage, always helped with charities and donations, always assisted people where you knew you could, stayed soft spoken and always began your requests with please and ended them with thank you. you kept to yourself most of the time, would never dare to raise your voice at anyone, never had any romantic interest, let alone sexual ones.

admittedly, the dreams involving the man— the demon had you waking up with an uncomfortable stickiness between your thighs. but before that, you never indulged. after that, you never indulged either, instead jumping from your bed and taking an ice could bath to calm yourself from the strange feeling. the temptations were always there and were always strong, but your want to be immaculate was stronger. to be free of sin.

a deal in which one’s first born is offered.

it seemed impossible, almost. you knew your father was a righteous man and your mother a pure woman. but where your mother happily shared stories of her childhood as heart-warming anecdotes, your father only dropped tidbits of his memories despite considering you two to be extremely close. you always chalked it up to him being a little boring or generally not very open. but maybe there was more to it…

“there you go, sweetheart.”

you nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of his voice, pushing the book away from you as you turned around a little too quickly, your knee knocking against the edge of the table.

there he stood, barely illuminated by the singular window as he took slow steps towards you much like the other day.

“so, you’ve finally figured it out, huh?”

each time he took a step, his muscles visible through the loose black silk, you inched away until the top of your thigh hit the wooden table, your hands bracing themselves on it to keep you from collapsing in fear. the closer he got, the more you realised just how attractive he was. broad-shouldered and radiating confidence, his feline eyes roamed over your figure. depite wearing a white gown that reached all the way down to your ankles, you felt so exposed.

tongue swiping along his bottom lip, drawing your attention to the action. he towered over you, making you feel weak and small as he trapped you against the table. your heart pounded against your ribcage and you feared it would break free and fall into his hands, unsure if the warmth on your cheeks and ump in your throat came from how utterly petrified you were or the way his breath fanned over your face like a whisper.

“your dearest father isn’t who he says he is,” he pouted mockingly, coming to a stop inches in front of you, letting his gaze settle on your quivering lips for a moment, “and me? well, you know what i am. and you also know we can have lots of fun if you allow it.”

your lips parted to speak but no words came out, instead opting to press them into a thin line and squeezing your eyes shut as you shook your head. you weren’t completely sure why you wer shaking your head, but if it would stop the incubus from tainting you, it was worth a try.

“don’t kid yourself, princess. i can smell how wet you are.” as if to emphasise his point, he inhaled deeply, leaning forward to ghost his nose over the slope of your neck without touching you.

it wasn’t until he said it that you notice you had been squeezing your thighs together, feeling warm all over and you stomach twisted in knots at the sound of his deep voice. something ached in your lower regions, but you tried your hardest to resist the thoughts.

but a little voice in the back of your head urged you to tilt your head back, to give him permission, to let his hands explore your untouched body. maybe just this once you could allow yourself to give in, to let your knees go weak and worry about begging for forgiveness later.

“all you have to do is drop the rosary.”

you gripped it tighter at the reminder of the protective object tangled between your fingers, fighting to keep your sanity intact. your breath hitched as you felt one of his fingers run along the beads, not daring to come close to the little silver cross or your skin.

“c’mon, pretty girl. drop it,” you heard the smirk in his voice, “let it go and i’ll take good care of you, i can make you feel things you’ve never thought of… i can make you feel alive, wouldn’t you love that? don’t you want to feel the desire? taste the lust?”

“n-no,” you gasped finally, finding your words, “it’s not right.“

he laughed, a low rumble from his chest, “i promise you’ll love being ruined by me,” he said, withdrawing his hand from yours, “i swear to all your precious little holy symbols, i know i can get you to want me.”

he moved closer and for a maddening moment you thought he was going to kiss you. faintly, you wanted him to. to feel the push of his lips against yours, to let his hands snake around your waist or grip your hips to pull you closer. there’s a ring on his index finger, you noticed, silvery and sharp, a symbol you didn’t recognise yet imagine him pressing it against your throat, branding your neck anew until it’s red and faithful. and maybe you crave for him to undo all the things in you that are holy.

“just drop it, pretty,” his breath teased your lips and you almost leaned forward in curiosity, wanting to see how just one kiss would feel, “i know you’re a good girl.”

those words. they’re almost enough for you to give in. how did he know those would strike a nerve, hit you where he knew it would work? not only did all your efforts ultimately lead to the same goal—purity, goodness—but you couldn’t deny the satisfaction you felt from reassurance. if you were an animal, you’d strive to be the priest’s favourite sacrificial lamb. to hold so very still and to bleed so prettily when the knife final comes down, to be reborn and be chosen all over again.

“don’t you get it?” he whispered, “i live inside you the same way you’re bound to live inside me. we’re a moebius strip, a never ending cycle of a snake eating it’s own tail. maybe it will end in destruction, but that’s your dear father’s doing. mutually assured destruction, maybe; you say yes, i’ll ruin you for everyone else, blacken the wool of your fur coat. you say no to me, i will suffer the consequences of not fulfilling a deal. you wouldn’t want someone to suffer because of you, hm?”

your grip on the rosary loosened and let your eyes finally flutter open. from this proximity, you could see every detail of his face and the image seared into your mind.

something in his eyes darkened as his lips curled, a playful smile, a predatory grin. the way he looked at you made you want to combust into flames, to fall to your knees, you skin rubbed raw on the ground as you beg him to make you feel.

“you don’t look so innocent anymore, you know? you’re docile and sweet, yes, but you’re not as pure as you think you are, there’s a little dirt in your pristine heart, a little lustful stain you can’t erase.”

“y-you’re wrong!” you protested, trying to convince yourself he was lying, “i’m good and i’ve always been good and i always will be good and i will not for the devil’s influence.”

“oh, but i’m not,” he pouted mockingly, moving his head back just an inch, looking down at you, “you’re practically shaking, so close to giving in… you’re the most pious girl here, yet you’re so close to sin, so close to me.”

you opened your mouth to continue your protests but flinched as you heard familiar heavy footsteps, looking up at the little window to see the familiar boots of your father about to enter the house after a long day of work. he was out, casting out malicious spirits and demons, and here you were, about to let one deflower you. the realisation seemingly made you come back to your senses, clenching the roary in your hand once more and looking for a way past him.

but… what would you even do afterwards? confront your father, the town’s devout exorcist, for making deals with the incubus in front of you? would he call you crazy, deny everything and treat you like just another one of his clients?

the footsteps were now above you, you could faintly hear him saying something to your mother though you couldn’t quite make out what it was. you’d never been as afraid of anything as you were of your own father, standing right above you, acting like he hadn’t damned you from the day you were conceived.

as if he could read your thoughts, could sense your panic that was completely unrelated to him, the incubus stepped back. his face was unreadable as his glazed over eyes fixated on you.

“don’t worry, sweet girl, i can wait. the longer you resist, the better it’ll feel when you finally surrender,” he gave you a small smile, different from the previous grins and smirks, as he nodded towards the window, “go.”

you could’ve run away the moment he stepped back, yet you didn’t move until he gave you the permission. you didn’t dwell on that fact as you slipped past him and reached up, shaky hands undoing the latch and opening outwards. you attempted to climb up, your arms burning as you tried lifting yourself, only to give up, panting softly from the effort.

“let me help you.” his voice offered, prompting you to look back at him. the seductive glint in his eyes was no longer there, taking a small step forward. “just… put it down, i promise i’ll help you and leave.”

you stared at him for a long moment. there was something so different in the way he looked at you now, suddenly soft and with good intentions. the voice of your father calling your name snapped you out of your stupor, nodding hurridely as you placed the rosary on the grass outside carefully before turning to look at him.

he gestured for you to turn away, your hands finding your hips as you did. the contact made you breath hitched, despite your layers of clothing between your curves and his hands, your stomach tickled with swarming butterflies as he lifted you up. the heat of his body behind yours distracted you for a moment, taken aback at how real he felt, how human he felt, even as he lifted you with ease.

you braced your forearms on the ground, pulling yourself up the rest of the way as he spoke.

“whisper my name three times, and i’ll be summoned wherever you are, ready to fulfill your needs.”

you stayed quiet for a moment, just sitting on the ground as you looked down at him, now able to see his full face clearning from his proximity to the window. “what’s your name?”

“san,” he smiled, “choi san.”

you loked away, up at your house as your father’s concerned voice called out your name again. “i should get going, but–,” you looked down to thank him, only to find an empty room and a sealed window. your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, voiced trailing off, “thank you…”

the first time you touched yourself, it was san you were thinking about.

late at night, your parents fast asleep, a storm ragin outside, but all you could do was think about him. you tried, you really did. you tried to go back in the house and pretend everything was fine, that you had just been on a walk and your flushed face was from the excercise. secretely, all you could think about was him. how you wanted him to show up again—wanted him to make your breath hitch and your heart jump. wanted him to soothe whatever it was that ached inside you; the burn in the pit of your stomach, the spot where your waist met your hips, but most of all between your legs, were it had never ached like this before.

you excused yourself from dinner earlier, went to bed, and tried so desperately to fall asleep. whether it was to forget about it all, or to meet him in your dreams again, you couldn’t tell. you really tried, but haunting thoughts of how his hands held onto you rolled into your mind with images of all the things he could do to you. the raspy lilt of his voice, sometimes soft, sometimes commanding in a way that made your limbs feel like jello at the mere thought of it. his sharp eyes and sharp jaw and such tempting lips. he could have a kind face if he wanted to, yet his toned body, visible and obvious despite trying to hide behind his clothing, screamed sex appeal.

flashes from your previous dreams raced through your mind too. fragments of images where you could feel his hands all over you, his dark hair sticking to his sweat forehead, eyes rolled back from the pleasure he gave himself while you were forced to watch. you never quite gave in in the dreams either.

you tossed and turned in your bed, thighs pressed together so tight you worried you’d have long bruises down your inner thighs the next morning. the new feeling felt much too large for your fragile mind, overwhelming you, making your loose clothes feel suffocating. it wouldn’t leave you alone, wouldn’t let you sleep. mostly because you didn’t want to give the feeling a name, you refused to speak its name, even in your mind, even if it could identify this feeling.

pent-up and strained, coiled into yourself in a foetal position, you could only roll onto your back and let your hand trail down your body, hiking up the long skirt of your nightgown before letting your fingers dip between your thighs, spread at the knees. you let out a shaky gasp as you felt the wetness pooled beneath your undergarments, clamping your other hand over your lips. after feeling around experimentally, your fingers found a quick pace, rubbing over your clit, more desperate than they had ever been. your hand muffled your gasped out moans and whimpers, tears pricking at your eyes—partly from the guilt, mostly from the pleasure. you felt your heart beat all over your body, most of all right below your moistened fingertips.

shaky breaths and muffled needy cries were covered by both your hand and the storm outside your window. if hurts a little, your clit swelling as more and more slick coats it and the knot in your stomach grows tighter and tighter. but you don’t mind the pain, you think you deserve it, because after all, it’s forbidden and it’s not supposed to feel good. san is not supposed to make you feel so good. a demon was the one thing that wasn’t supposed to be on your mind, especially not in this way.

the thought of him made your hand move faster and suddenly your breath was stuttering and your core pulse as you finish quickly, biting down on your lip, hard enough to cut through the skin, to muffle your cries. when you came down from your high, you lay there for a few moments longer, heart racing as you glance at the door to make sure it was still closed. and when you realised what you had just done, shame clouded your lungs as you slipped your fingers out of your panties and raised them to your face.

your hands came away sticky. transparents webs of your pleasure linking your index and middle fingers together as you stared in horror before finally collecting yourself and jumping from your bed to scrub the sin from your hands in your bathroom.

you scrubbed until your fingers turned red and your palms raw, losing sensation from the ice cold water, the guilt sinking deeper and deeper the longer you took to cleanse your body. you hadn’t noticed the tears running down your cheeks until you stared at yourself in the mirror, sniffling and glossy-eyed. your body might be clean, but were you? if you wanted to be immaculate, how could you let yourself do such a thing?

it was his fault, really. him and his midnight eyes and electric touches and words that would drive you to madness, damnation.

you changed your panties and nightgown, burying them in your laundry basket as if you were burying the evidence of a crime. once done, you wanted nothing more than to sink into your bed and fall asleep. but as you stared at what you once thought was comforting, you could only think about your soft whimpers and shaking thighs. so you stripped your bed naked to decorate it anew with clean sheets and blankets and pillows, shoving the previous ones under your bed before finally falling into a deep sleep.

shame followed you like a pest for the next days, unable to properly smile because all you could think about was what you had done. and what you wanted to do. a heavy melancholy washed over you in these days, confining yourself to your room when ou didn’t have to come down for meals. if your parents picked up on it, they didn’t say anything. maybe they knew. what if they know?

maybe they didn’t say anything because they knew about san. perhaps they thought it was fate, that you would give in sooner or later. despite cracking a bit, you stood by your conviction that you wouldn’t, no matter what, summon him.

but… was he really so bad? had you not seen a moment of softness when he helped you? demons were, after all, fallen angels. could it really be so impossible he still had a sprinkle of previous angeilc qualities? silently, you were thankful he hadn’t showed up on his own again. if he did, you were afraid you’d throw away all sense of faith and throw yourself into his arms, let him kiss you and lick you and suck you and bite you and everything in between.

despite all this, despite not wanting to summon him, you couldn’t deny the unsettling feeling weighing you down with each step. it had been there before—before whatever happened in the basement—dragging your seemingly heavy limbs through vacant hallways. but when he touched you, when his fingertips brushed against yours as he touched the shiny black beads of your rosary even though he didn’t mean to, when his hands lifted you into the air and helped you escape, the way he talked to you, his words and tone, that unsettling feeling had been lifted off your shoulders.

you noticed, for a brief moment, when you spent that short amount of time with him, you had no desire to think of god or rules or expectations. even if it was for a split second, it happened, and perhaps that what terrified you the most. just wanted to be, something you hadn’t been allowed for so long.

so when your parents said they’d be out late for some dinner you had no interest in attending, you paced around your room, deep in thought as your typical long nightgown tickled your ankles. millions of thoughts raced through your kind but, at the core, they were all the same. san, san, san. you felt like he had attached himself to your very soul, and you’re not quite sure how it happened.

without thinking, you stopped your pacing, glancing at the crucifix on your bedside table, a reminder. you couldn’t take it anymore, reaching out to take the wooden symbol and hide it in your closet. was it really wrong if it was still there, only trapped behind the wooden double doors, nestled between your skirts and shirts and gowns and gowns? out of sight, you felt less bad about what you were going to do.

your eyes squeezed shut and you did as he told you to, lips parting to whisper his name thrice. almost instantly, a gust of wind blew through your room and you knew there was someone else there with you. your eyes remained shut until you heard footsteps stalking towards you, his familiar voice filling the eerie silence of the room.

“hello, angel,” he grinned, borderline menacing, as he backed you up against your dresser. much like before, you were trapped, the back of your thighs pressed against the wood. only this time, you weren’t afraid, “i knew you’d give in sooner rather than later.”

you didn’t reply, didn’t know how to reply, only breathing shallowly, fingers curling into the edge of your dresser as you glanced from his eyes to his lips repeatedly.

“you need to give me permission, you know,” he chuckled, tilting his head to the side, “there are rules for deals such as these.”

“please.” you breathed, somewhere between a whisper and a needy whine as your round eyes looked up at him so desperately.

as soon as the word left you, his lips were on yours. hungry, devouring you, sucking on your bottom lip like it’s a candy as you can’t help but melt and whimper against him. his hand found your cheek, the touch surprisingly soft compared to the madness of his kisses. your heart rattled against your ribcage like a bird wanting to escape its confines. his saccharine saliva seeped into your mouth as his tongue broke past your lips, running over your teeth and the roof of your mouth as you let him do whatever he wanted.

his hands are all over you and yours are all over him, grabbing at each other because there was no way to get any closer like this. your thoughts, unlike before, are completely quiet, head empty and drunk on the sloppy kisses, mouthfuls of teeth clashing against each other. he was supposed to be gentle, he wanted to be gentle, yet now you’re pressed against the dresser and he’s kissing you hard.

it was wrong, but it felt too good. that was clear from the moment your kisses turn open-mouthed, lips clinging and tongues dancing. you shivered as both his hands held you by your hips once more, lifting you to sit on the edge of the oak furniture, caressing your hips bones through the thin fabric of your dress.

your hands rug at his shirt lightly, a silent plea for him to remove it, wanting to see and feel every inch of his divine body. he complies, separating his lips from your to reach over his shoulder and grip the silky shirt from the back, pulling it over his head, tossing it aside. your hands explore his naked torso, fingernails scratching along his skin as he loses himself in the taste of your kisses.

his hands dragged the long skirt of your gown up your legs, fingers ghosting over the supple skin of your calves and thighs before letting the cloth bunch up at your hips, winding your legs around his waist before lifting you off the dresser. you cling to him the way the thought of him cling to you for so long before this as he carries you. he lays you down gently, your head spinning as he kneeled on the edge of your bed and leaned over you, moving his lips from yours to mouth at your neck.

his hot breaths dance along your skin, across your collarbone, neck, pressing wet kisses down to the fabric covering your chest. you gasped softly as he brushed his teeth against your skin, a reminded that he could really break you if he wanted, but the feel of his lips against the curve of your neck, testing out the waters of your shoulder, made the intimidating thought vanish.

he teases the skin just above your neckline with nibbles that have you throwing your head back with soft whimpers, only encouraging him as his left hand kept one of your legs hitched up against his hips and his right undid the ribbons at the back of your dress. the fabric loosens and slips around, one sleeve falling over your shoulder slightly as he sat you up a little and pulled the dress over your head, discarding it and leaving you in your white ruffled bra and panties.

you’re dizzy, delirious with thirst—for his touch, his kisses, for everything his sharp lips could give you, for him to relieve the ache between your legs. you shiver as you’re left bare, nipples peaking through your bra, undergarments barely hiding your most precious parts. you try covering yourself with shaking arms, despite the little fabric still be there, but his hands move them aside, pulling them to rest on his bare chest. his eyelids flutter for a moment at the contact, your hands so much colder than his.

he leans back to look at your, hand at your back winding around to massage a handful of one breast, watching your breath hitch. “such a pretty girl, and all for me.”

“san…” you whimper aimlessly, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“such an angel,” he teases again, thumb circling over your clothed nipple lightly, grinning at how helpless you looked, “supposedly protected by your father, by god, yet here you are, practically begging for a demon to fuck you.”

he presses himself closer and you can feel the thick and heavy weight of his cock smudge against your core, gasping softly as you eyes roll back, his tip prodding against the fabric covering your sensitive clit. his name falls from your lips once again, like a softly uttered prayer as you back arches. he takes the opportunity to undo the clasp of your bra, slipping the item off you before continuing to tease your perked nipples, leaning down to lick and suck at them as his hips grind against yours. you weren’t sure when he took off his pants, but you didn’t quite care, not when his impressive girth covered your core so well. sometimes the tip would dip into your entrance before leaving just as quickly, your toes curling as it stretched you and your panties.

he moans into your neck, grinding against you at just the right pace, his precum smearing all over you already-drenched panties. the feeling of his tip prodding at you clit so continuously makes you come quickly, and much harder than the other night when you touched yourself. you writhe beneath him, shaking and crying out his name as your back arches from the bed.

“hm, you’re so much prettier like this, angel, succumbing and throwing away any desire of virtue,” he mutters against your jaw, having sucked dark marks onto the skin right below it, his deep melodic voice.

angel. the way he calls you that makes you shiver. how could he do that? call you an angel while plucking out the feathers of the wings you’d once had?

when he enters you, it’s slow and deliberate, leaning down to whisper into your ear as he presses your hands into the white mattress—”heaven itself could not make you feel like this.”

“i’ve never… you know…” you had admitted shyly once you came down from the first orgasm he coaxed out of you.

he only chuckled, caressing your cheek. “i know. virgins always smell the sweetest.”

you pleaded for him to be gentle, and how could he say no when you were begging so prettily? now his length is barely halfway inside you and you’re already shaking, drenched and deprived pussy squeezing him tightly as he swallows down your broken moans, holding back him own. you feel abnormally good to him, unable to remember the last time he fucked such a perfect pussy.

as he reaches previously untouched parts of you, his tip brushes against a spongey little area that has you clenching, your breath hitching followed by a gasped moan as you come again. stars flood your vision, feeling like your body was on fire as your hands tightened under his. his tongue licks up every one of your sounds, smothering you as he pulled back a bit to press against the spot some more.

your moans soon turn into soft whines, twitching from overstimulation before he fially continues to enter you. it’s a tight fit, but he bottoms out eventually.

“fuck- you take me so well, you’re so perfect.” he groans, looking down at where he can see his tip bulging through your stomach.

you never imagined just how full you would feel, the stretch burning yet somehow still pleasurable as you squirm beneath him. he doesn’t wait, retracting and fucking into you slowly, letting you feel every curve and vein of his perfect cock.

he loses track, but he thinks he’s made you finish 4 times already. he’s not surprised, virginity leaves most people sensitive, and the fact he’s been teasing you in and out of your dreams for months likely didn’t help. san revels in it though, basks in the sounds you try to hold back so desperately. he isn’t lying when he says you’re pretty, hypnotised by your face contorted in pleasure and your body, tears slipping from the corners of your eyes. they somehow still have an innocent glint in them, even as he manoeuvres you into different positions before finally easing you into your back once more.

you arousal is smeared all over yourself and him and the bedsheets. clear and sticky, glistening in the candlelight. at some point he slipped out of you to lean down and have a taste, groaning as you mewed above him. when his teeth grazed your abuser clit, you finish once again and a moment later he’s back inside you.

eventually, his hips stutter and a newfound pace takes over. “shit, angel, i’m gonna fill you up so good. would you like that?”

you can only nod frantically, brain turned to mush, jaw dropped to let out your lazy whimpers. you’ve lost track of everything but him; his touch, his voice, his influence. if you parents walked in or he disappeared, you’d only be able to lay there, completely helpless.

he never really stops, taking his time to worship your tight hole, knowing he’ll only be able to stop when he comes. though, by the looks of it, it’ll be sooner rather than later.

his groans and moans sound blissful in your ears, holding your name between his teeth with a low whimper. he spills his tick warm cum into you, the new sensation making you shake and squirm as you feel your insides being filled. another orgasm washed over you, though a little weaker, drunk on his scent and his saliva and him him him.

he kisses you, bruisingly, slipping out of yoh and letting you feel his seed seep out of your hole and run down your thighs, pussy coated in milky white. he slumps against you, detaching his lips from yours to gaze down at your barely open eyes.

it’s tiring, you can’t deny that, but it just feels so good. all your disgusting, fucked up thoughts were because of him. and now your most intimate parts will always be tainted by his hands. he calls you ‘good girl,’ yet you know you’ll never be good again.

choi san: voice like silk, touch like satin, incubus, demon. you’d think demons kill people, but your purity was his only homicide. he murdered your virginity. murderer.

but you do wish for him to kiss you again.

networks. @cromernet @wonderlandnet @cultofdionysusnet @pirateeznet @atzhouse

permanent taglist. @ad0rechuu @sankatchu @mlink64 @yeosangsbb @seonghwasbbgirl @likexaxdaydream @dreamingofyeo @yalyallic @yunhoswrldddd @coffee-addict-kitten @thunderous-wolf @chngbnwf

''Mingi, I can't believe you actually dressed up as Willy fucking Wonka for this comeback. That's insane,'' you laughed when Mingi entered your LA hotel room, still wearing his outfit from the MV filming set. He had begged his stylists to let him wear it for the rest of the day, thinking it'd be hilarious to surprise you in it. After a lot of begging, they let him and here he was; Wonka'ing into your bedroom while you laughed at him.

''Oh come on, isn't it sexy? Mingi Wonka is a vibe right? Don't you like it just a little bit?'' he said with a smirk as he leaned against the doorframe. ''Well,'' you started as you eyed him up and down. He grinned and took off his hat and put it on yours instead. ''Is this some weird scenario like... you get the hat, you ride the chocolatier?'' ''Only if you want to,'' he said, as he subtly kicked the wooden cane with his foot.

You stared him up and down once again, your eyes gliding over the shiny purple jacket, grey slacks that barely hid the fat dick it was holding back. You watched how his fingers played with the cane, stroking it slowly. ''You're fixated on that? While you could look at me?'' ''Well I apologize, mister Wonka, I did not reali-'' ''No, no, no, you shush right now, I can give you just what you want, miss Wonka.''

He got on his knees in front of you and pulled down your silky pajama shorts down, as well as your cotton panties. You licked your lips and laid down against the soft pillows as you spread your legs for your boyfriend. This was the weirdest kind of role-play you've ever done, but to be fair he wanted to put on a Sailor Moon costume on himself once.

Mingi peppered kisses from your upper thighs to your knees and back to your inner thigh, pressing his lips everywhere except where you needed them. ''Mingi, please,'' you whined softly. ''Mhm, patience my love, I gotta prepare you don't I?''

Finally, you felt his lips brush over your wet pussy. You had been thinking of him all night anyway so you were quite aroused even before he came home. Now that he put the thought of fucking MingiWonka in your head you got even wetter. You threw the large hat on the ground and moaned when he started to lick and suck at your clit.

You ran your hand through his hair and moaned out, chest heaving as your breathing picked up. ''Oh God, baby that feels so good,'' you whined. Mingi's tongue worked inside your cunt and made you feel things you only felt when you're with him. Pure magic and pleasure.

Your eyes rolled back into your head when he slid two of his long, thick fingers into your pussy. He kept licking and sucking repeatedly on your sensitive clit, making you moan louder for him. You were a little embarrassed as half of the hotel could probably hear you unravel for him but what could you do when he handsome MingiWonka wanted to use his tongue on your pretty little pussy?

His velvety tongue flicked your bud a few times more before you felt yourself getting closer to climaxing. Mingi groped your thighs and ass with his free hand and made you see stars as the pleasure took over your mind, body and soul. His face was completely burried in your pussy as your orgasm washed over you. You moaned loudly and your body shivered as he rode out your high, flicking your clit with his tongue a few more times.

Mingi panted and got up from the bed, stripping himself bare while smirking at you, a disheveled mess in front of him. ''Look at that... Aren't you such a good little girl for me? I'm gonna give you what you want now, huh? Weren't you looking at this beauty for a while?'' Mingi smirked as he showed you his cane, tracing it lightly.

Your eyes went wide and your pussy clenched. ''A-Are you fucking me with that, Min?'' ''Turn around and ass up, babygirl,'' he ordered you. You couldn't believe him and his crazy mind sometimes but this was something you never could've thought of before. Nevertheless, you obeyed him, getting on your knees and resting on your elbows while pushing your ass up for him. ''That's a good girl,'' he praised you as he cleaned off the cane and lubed it up.

''Now give me a good view of that pretty little pussy, Y/N,'' Mingi said in a raspy voice, positioning himself behind you. You spread your legs a little more for him and waited in anticipation. You took a deep breath when you felt the cold material prod against your hole. ''Oh God, sir,'' you whispered.

Soon enough it pushed inside you with force and your elbows gave out. Your moans were muffled by the pillow underneath you, where your head was pressed in as Mingi rutted the cane into your cunt deeply. It pushed in and out and soon enough he picked up the pace, adjusting the angles to find the exact spot you loved it so much.

You whined loudly and started trembling, your previous orgasm still leaving you sensitive. ''That's a good girl, taking anything I give to you, hm?'' ''Y-Yes, Oh my God, for you sir, for you!'' ''That's right, sir Wonka is in charge here. So if I wanna fuck you with this cane and stuff it into your wet, needy pussy that's what we're gonna do, hm?''

After repeatedly hitting your g-spot and making you moan like a bitch in heat he started to push it deeper inside you, making you scream out loud. Your breathing was heavy and you felt how hot and red your face was, the entire situation nearly becoming too much. You started to grind back on the cane, fucking yourself on it as Mingi forced you to take more and more into your cunt.

''Such a talented little pussy, taking it like that. You're such a talented little girl aren't you? And so dirty, God, are you gonna cum on this angel? Is this beautiful cane that belongs to sir gonna make you cum, and scream and fucking come undone?''

''Yes! Yes it is, sir, oh my God it is!'' you screamed. It was only a matter of a few more thrusts before you felt yourself tremble and shudder as you came for him, cunt twitching and clenching on the cane. When you calmed down he pulled it out and smirked at your gaping hole and then on the slick covering the cane he used as an MV prop just hours ago.

Mingi tossed aside the cane and did not warn you as he pushed his cock inside you, moaning out and throwing his head back. He pounded his thick cock inside you and you had no choice but to take it and let him ruin you. ''Please, please, please,'' you whimpered.

''Please what, little one? What do you want? Is sir's cock not enough? Or is sir's cock so fucking good you're gonna cum again like a little-''

''Yes! Yes, it's too good!'' you interrupted him, clenching down on his cock and earning a low groan from him. He rocked into you and gripped your ass tight, kneading the flesh in his hands. The sounds of skin slapping together filled the room, combined with loud squeels muffled by the plush pillow.

''Are you gonna cum again baby? Aren't you a filthy little girl, jesus, you're gonna take my load baby, gonna take sir's load like a good girl while you cum, isn't that right?'' He thrusted harder into you when you didn't answer him. ''Isn't that right?'' he snapped.

You cried out, tears spilling from your eyes as his cock pulsated inside you, spilling his cum into your clenching cunt. You whined and cried out his name as you came for a third time.

When he pulled his cock out of your cunt and watched it leak out you let your entire body fall back on the bed, absolutely spent. Mingi grinned and took you into his arms. He strokes your hair gently and kissed your head. ''You've done so well for me baby, you were insane.''