𝔏𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔟𝔲𝔤𝔤𝔧𝔬𝔶

Jungkook sighed, his lip ring clanking against his teeth as he pulled his bottom lip inward. “Can we talk inside? I really don’t wanna do this in your hallway.” He pleaded. Jungkook was never truly the confrontational type, which contradicted you because you in fact were the confrontational type.

You huffed, brushing past him to unlock your apartment door. Once both of you were inside, you shut the door firmly. Jungkook immediately walked to your couch and sat down, patting the cushion beside him as an invitation for you to sit. You hesitated for a brief moment before giving in, placing your plushy and purse on the table.

You sat beside him, hands clasped tightly in your lap, avoiding eye contact. The tension in the silence was thick. “So... why weren't you at work today? It's not like you to miss a shift.” he finally started. You fiddled with your fingers, scrambling for an excuse for your absence. “I….umm… went to the Daegu fair,” you admitted, only fabricating the truth just a tad. "With Mina."

Jungkook tilted his head, a frown forming his lips. "You did a no-call, no-show to go to the Daegu fair? What were you thinking?" he asked, ready to lecture you. You certainly weren't in the mood to hear it, especially from him. Not now. It felt like he was deliberately trying to pivot away from the real issue at hand; your relationship and his cold, dead silence.

"I was thinking I wanted to have some fun, and not sit at work wondering why the man I care about ghosted me for two days." you snapped. This brought the brunet down a notch, making him exhale heavily. The room fell silent once again, but not for very long. "Look, I'm sorry," Jungkook said. "It's just... we've been best friends since we were kids and–"

“And you still only see me as that." You cut him off.

"No," he countered sternly. "What we have is special because of our history. We got to be best friends before having a romantic connection, which is rare. You're not like any girl I've dated. You’re much more to me. I don't want to mess this up. I don't wanna lose you. I can't. The thought terrifies me because I’m losing more than my girl, I’m losing my best friend too,"

Your eyes finally connected with his, your demeanor softening at his words. "I want our first time to be special," he continued. "I don't want it to be random sex like I’m used to. I want your first experience to be your best experience.”

You sighed, nodding your head. "You're right. It should be special..." you replied. You understood Jungkook's view; it was sweet, and it showed just how much he truly valued you. You appreciated his sentiment, but you were still frustrated. Sexually frustrated. You were ready for more. It was easy for Jungkook to sideline sex when he’d been having it since high school. Meanwhile, you, the innocent virgin, had spent all this time waiting for your first crush to choose you. Now that he finally has, the reward feels slightly lackluster.

"I'm sorry," you finally said. You weren't entirely sure if you meant it, but for now, you just wanted to put the drama behind you. Jungkook smiled, taking your hands in his, and you gladly let him. "I missed you," he said. "It doesn't feel right not talking to you every day."

You returned a genuine smile. "The feeling is mutual. But if you ever ghost me again, prepare for me to come to the tattoo shop with a vengeance." You playfully squinted your eyes at him.

Jungkook chuckled, nodding his head. "I wouldn't expect anything less." He says. After a moment of silence the brunet’s eyes flicked behind you, catching sight of the new plush toy sitting on top of the table. “Nice plushie,” he smirked, knowing all too well how much you loved anything Hello Kitty related. “Guess you and Mina had a good time at the fair, huh?”

You followed his gaze to the plushie. “Yeah… surprisingly, I did.” You chewed on your bottom lip, your mind suddenly miles away, fixed on the raven.

"Well, well, well. Look who decided to show up today after ditching without a call," Jimin said, a smirk plastered on his face as he stepped out of the kitchen with two glasses of water. "The old man's gonna have a field day." He was joking, but there was truth to it.

You sighed, biting the inside of your cheek. You knew a lecture was coming, along with an endless amount of dish and bathroom duty. Possibly even termination. Mr. Kim hated when staff called in, but he especially loathed it when they didn’t.

"I’m nervous as it is," you said. "Did Mr. Kim say anything to you about me?"

"To me? No," Jimin replied, setting the glasses down at the table he was waiting on. "But you know how he is about punctuality. No exceptions."

You rubbed the nape of your neck and slowly shuffled toward the back of the kitchen to meet your doom.

“Good luck!” Jimin teased.

God, what would you do if you lost your job at Makoto? The job market was brutal right now, and finding new employment wouldn’t be easy. You were terrified of the domino effect that would follow.

Mr. Kim noticed you immediately upon entering the kitchen, but to your surprise, he only nodded in your direction. "Good evening, y/n. Glad to see you came in today," he said calmly before dusting his hands on his apron. “Hurry up and clock in, Jimin could use some assistance out there.”

Your eyebrows scrunched. ‘That’s it? No yelling? No speech? What's his angle?’ you wondered hesitantly.

“O-oh, uh… of course…” you stammered. You grabbed your time card and swiped it through the clock. You glanced back at Mr. Kim, who handled the orders just as he did on any other day. But today shouldn’t have been like ‘any other day’. It should have been a day of reckoning for ditching work yesterday, yet Mr. Kim didn’t even seem to care. You decided that you would just rip the bandage off and bring it up yourself.

"Hey, Mr. Kim, about not calling in yesterday…" you started, but the old man instantly cut you off.

"Don't worry about it, kid! It happens." He said, quickly dismissing the conversation.

You stood stunned. This was certainly unlike your boss. Mr. Kim could be kind when he wanted to be, but when it came to work, he was a stickler for the rules. As Jimin had said, there were no exceptions.

You wondered what could have made him so nonchalant about a no-call, no-show, until suddenly, Yoongi's voice flashed through your mind.

"Don't stress about that, princess. I'II deal with your boss after the fact."

Could it be that Yoongi had actually followed through? It was the only explanation for Mr. Kim's uncharacteristic behavior. Even though the raven had said he’d handle it, you hadn’t honestly believed him. You didn’t think Yoongi could actually hold that kind of power over someone as headstrong as Mr. Kim. It left you wondering what else, exactly, that man could control.

Nevertheless, you smiled slightly to yourself, knowing he had used that power to keep your job intact. You grabbed an apron from the hook, along with a notepad and pen, preparing to head out to the floor. Just then, Jimin walked in, his expression uneasy. “What’s your problem?” You ask him, an eyebrow perched.

"T-table three wants you to take their order instead of me," the brunet said.

You didn't even need to question why; his unease told you exactly who was sitting at table three. You nodded, tying your apron around your waist. Jimin exchanged a look with Mr. Kim behind you before you headed out to the dining floor. To your lack of surprise, there sat Yoongi and Joon across from each other. You poked the inside of your cheek with your tongue, a small smile trying to peek through.

"There's my favorite waitress," the raven smiled as you approached. His left arm rested casually on the back of his chair.

You squinted at him, folding your arms across your chest. "Looks like someone’s too anxious to wait until tonight," you stated.

Yoongi shrugged. “What can I say? You make me feel like I’ve got a school crush. I want to see you whenever I can.” He smirked, biting down on his bottom lip.

You rolled your eyes, but inside, butterflies were already beginning to flutter. “Are you two here to order, or are you just here to cause trouble?” you asked, quickly changing the subject. You didn’t want to look like you actually enjoyed Yoongi’s presence, not with Jimin lurking nearby. He had a big mouth, and before you knew it, Jungkook and Mina would find out that there was something unspoken forming between you and Yoongi.

“I don’t know about the boss man here, but I could go for some Jjajangmyeon and a cool bottle of soju. Don’t bring me any of that warm shit,” Joon said.

You eyed the lanky man. “We don’t serve alcohol here,” you stated dryly.

“Well, that’s a fucking buzzkill. What do y’all serve here?”

“You can try looking at the menu in front of you.” You snarked. You couldn’t help the smart remarks when it came to Joon. He simply rubbed you the wrong way, Yoongi’s right-hand man or not. You didn’t like him.

Joon smirked, your snarkiness having no bearing on him. “Someone’s testy today. This isn’t very good customer service,” he joked, though he picked up the menu nonetheless. He scanned through the drink section before closing it. “I’ll take a cola,” he said.

You wrote down his order, then turned to Yoongi, who seemingly hadn’t taken his eyes off you the entire time. “And you?”you questioned the raven.

“I’ll take some water, sweetheart. I didn’t come here for the food.” The raven said.

You nodded, not needing to write it down. As you collected their menus from the table, you hesitated. “Hey, um…” you started, keeping your voice low. “Thanks for actually talking to my boss. You seriously saved me from getting fired.”

Yoongi tilted his head slightly. “You said ‘actually’ as though you had no faith in my word. You didn’t think I’d talk to your boss?” he questioned.

“You want me to be honest?”

“That’s all I ever want you to be with me, sweetheart.”

“Okay then,” you nodded, keeping your voice hushed so you wouldn't be overheard. “No. I didn’t think you’d talk to my boss. I thought it was just a little lie you told to get me to come with you yesterday.”

The raven smirked at your doubt. “One thing you need to learn about me, princess, is that my word is bond. When I say I’m gonna do something, I do it.” He held his smirk, but there was something beneath it now, something entirely serious. Dangerous, even.

And you liked it. Shamefully.

"Noted," you said, your gaze locked with his dark, intense eyes. Before the moment could stretch any further, the bell above the front door chimed, snapping you back to reality. "'I’ll be right with you-" The customer service voice died in your throat. You froze as you turned around, coming face to face with a familiar brunet.

"J-Jungkook?" You stuttered. “What’re you doing here?”

Jungkook's smile vanished as he looked past you, spotting Yoongi sitting there. He squinted, a hard edge replacing his previously soft expression. "I'm on my break... thought I'd come in to see you." His eyes remained glued to the raven. "What the hell is he doing here?"

You looked back at Yoongi, his eyes dark and intimidating as they always were, his glare on Jungkook vicious. "They're, uh... ordering food," you said. You could feel people in the restaurant starting to stare, Jimin included.

"I think they need to order food somewhere else," Jungkook spat, his gaze hardening on Yoongi.

"Is that right?" The raven finally spoke, his voice dangerously monotone.

"You trying to start somethin', chief?" Joon chimed in, shifting in his seat, fully prepared to back Yoongi. “Because we don’t have a problem sending you out on a stretcher.”

You shivered at those words. Knowing there was no way this situation would end well for Jungkook, you quickly stepped in. Grabbing the bushy haired man by the arm, you pushed him away from their table and steered him toward an empty one across the restaurant."Are you trying to get yourself jumped?" you asked, keeping your voice low as you questioned the brunet.

Jungkook scoffed. "I'm not scared of those pussies like everyone else. Especially when it comes to you." He finally pulled his gaze away from their table and onto you. "You okay? Is he still harassing you?" he asked.

You sighed. You understood Jungkook's frustration with seeing Yoongi. After everything you had told him about your first encounter with the raven, plus his murdered friend having some type of connection to him, you could imagine why he was so bold.

"They're really just here to eat, and no matter how much disdain I have for someone, I still have to act on a professional level while at work. I don't think fighting helps my case."

The brunet ran his fingers through his hair, sighing deeply. "You're right. I'm sorry," he apologized, his hand reaching out to gently rub your arm.

"Don't worry about it, okay? Just sit down and order something. You came here for me, right?" You smiled, hoping that would bring his mood back up. The brunet grinned back, unable to stay angry when you were in his presence. "Right," he agreed, taking a seat at the table you had escorted him to."My focus is on you, beautiful." He placed a hand on your hip.

You could feel the cold stare burning into your back, the raven glaring daggers in your direction.You didn't bother to look back as you kept your attention on Jungkook.

"Hey, waitress," Yoongi's voice suddenly chimed behind you. You turned around. "Is this how your boss runs his establishment? How about instead of fucking around with your little boyfriend, you get us our orders?" There was venom in his voice when he spat the word “boyfriend”. Of course, no one could spot it except you– and maybe Joon. You scowled at the raven for calling you out so loudly.

"Hey," Jimin whispered, quickly walking up to Jungkook's table. He nudged your shoulder. "You take care of their orders, and I'll take Jungkook's. I don't wanna know what those guys will do if they have to wait any longer."

You complied, not wanting to take that chance and find out either. Leaving Jimin to handle Jungkook, you headed back into the kitchen and ripped the order from your notepad to hook it onto the ticket line. "The hell is going on out there?" Mr. Kim asked, frowning.

"Nothing anymore. Jimin and I have it under control," you assured him as you grabbed two cups from the dish shelf. Moving toward the beverage station, you filled both cups with ice before pouring their respective drinks. You marched back out to the dining room and set the cups down on Yoongi's table. "Satisfied?" you asked the raven.

"Not nearly," he grimaced. "What would satisfy me right now would leave you devastated, sweetheart." His voice was calm, but his words were dark. You chose not to push, truly not wanting to know what he meant by that. "Your food should be out shortly," you said to Joon, deliberately avoiding the raven’s eyes.

You turned around, leaving Yoongi and Joon alone at their table. Spotting Jungkook waving you over, you walked up to the grinning brunet with a playful sigh. “Yes, trouble?” you asked. He rolled his eyes at the newfound nickname. “I was thinking… How about a movie night tonight? I think we’re overdue for one.” he suggested. You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest. “You mean a repeat of last time? Because unless my memory is failing me, that was an absolute disaster.”

"Yeah, well, this time will be different. After our talk last night, I'm hoping we both have a better understanding of our feelings," he said, taking your hand in his. You tilted your head, biting the inside of your cheek. Even if you did want to give in to his movie night plan, you couldn't. You already had plans with a certain black haired man tonight.

"You know, I'd love to, but I already made plans with Mina tonight,” you lied, offering a convincing smile. "She wants us to have a whole girls' night in. Makeup, nails, talking about our relationships. The whole works."

Jungkook pouted. "First the fair, now a girls' night? I'm beginning to think Mina is stealing my girl." He joked.

You giggled, rolling your eyes at the brunet. "Don't be so dramatic," you said. "We always have tomorrow night."

“Fine,” Jungkook relented, tossing a look of fake defeat your way. “I didn't wanna watch your cheesy movies tonight anyway.”

You gasped, slapping a hand over your heart as if deeply offended. “You love my cheesy movies.”

"No, I love you. There's a difference," Jungkook said.

The words hung heavily in the air between you, and you instantly froze. The words echoed in your mind, catching you entirely off guard. Jungkook had never confessed his feelings so plainly before. You had practically a lifetime of history together as best friends, but hearing him say those words out loud changed everything in an instant. You stared at him, speechless. Realizing exactly what he had just admitted, Jungkook's eyes widened, and a dark blush rapidly overtook his face.

"S-so tomorrow night?" he stammered, his voice cracking slightly as he scratched the nape of his neck in pure embarrassment.

"Uh-yeah... yeah... see you tomorrow night," you stuttered, your voice trailing off.

You had absolutely no idea how to respond, and your only saving grace was a nearby customer waving you over to request their bill. Seizing the lifeline, you quickly retreated to their table and left Jungkook alone with his thoughts. The moment your back was turned, the brunet squeezed his eyes shut, burying his face in his hands as he cussed quietly to himself.

You grabbed the customer's card from the table and turned to go swipe it at the kiosk, but before you could move any further, you noticed Yoongi and Joon preparing to leave. You furrowed your brows; Joon's food hadn't even been served yet. "Um... hello? Did you forget you ordered food?" you questioned the lanky man as they walked past you.

Yoongi didn't say a word, his expression unreadable as he moved toward the exit.

"I think I'll pass on the ramen, Wonder Woman. The atmosphere in this joint kinda makes me sick," Joon said.

You poked the inside of your cheek with your tongue as you watched them head for the door, but they didn't leave without throwing one last vicious glare at Jungkook. Jungkook, of course, glared right back.

"See ya around, chief," Joon scowled in his direction before they finally walked out into the street.

You hadn’t received a single text from Yoongi by the time your shift ended. You had been entirely certain the raven would be eagerly waiting the exact second you clocked out, but an hour had already passed since you’d been off. Trying to shake the growing unease, you showered and slipped into a cute little floral dress. It was a stark contrast to the workout outfit you had worn to that first so called “kickback”.

You sighed, staring down at your blank phone screen. Still, there was no call, no text. What was his issue? One minute he’s telling you how he wants to see you whenever he can, and now he was acting like he couldn't care less about the plans he had made. He couldn't possibly be upset about Jungkook, could he? How childish if he was.

A soft knock suddenly sounded at your front door.

‘Finally,’ you thought, a wave of relief washing over you. ‘Took him long enough.’

You walked into the living room and peeked through the peephole. You were fully expecting to see a familiar mess of long, dark hair, but instead, your neighbor, Hoseok, stood on the other side. You hadn't seen much of him since his stare down with Yoongi in the hallway. Pushing down your surprise, you opened the door and greeted him. "Hoseok, hey," you smiled.

Hoseok returned the small smile, but his expression remained entirely serious. "Hey, y/n. Do you mind if I come in?" He asks. You hesitated for a moment, glancing back toward your bedroom where your phone sat in total silence, almost as if Yoongi might choose this exact second to call you. "It won't take too long," Hoseok assured you, his voice gentle but firm, as if he had read your mind completely.

You nodded, opening the door wider for him to enter your apartment before closing it behind him. Hoseok stood there in the entryway, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. You had never seen him look so serious; it was actually a little scary. Whenever you ran into him around the building, Hoseok always had a bright smile on his face. Seeing Yoongi that night really seemed to have shattered his entire personality.

“So, how do you know Yoongi?" Hoseok asked abruptly.

"Uh.." You recounted the moment you had first met the raven, remembering how close you had been to stabbing Joon with a pair of chopsticks until Yoongi intervened. "I met him at my job not long ago." You rubbed your arm awkwardly, completely refusing to go into full detail.

"Do you owe him money or something? Are you safe? Is he forcing you to sleep with him?"

He was completely overwhelming you with the sudden barrage of questions. You shook your head quickly, cutting him off before he could say anything else. "Hoseok, no. I don't owe him money, and I'm fine. Yoongi and I are acquaintances, just like I told you last time. That's all."

He furrowed his eyebrows deeply. "That's all? Y/n, you're a sweet girl. I've lived across the hall from you long enough to know that. Why would you ever get into the mix with the likes of him? Do you know who he is? What he does? What he's done to people? Yoongi is dangerous."

"And you know that firsthand, don't you?" you snapped.

Hoseok froze.

"Yeah, I know you used to work for Yoongi. He told me," you continued, crossing your arms. "I also know you two were best friends."

Hoseok clenched his jaw, the silence stretching tight between you. "Yeah, we were. Me, Yoongi, and Joon. We grew up together, started this shit together. But Yoongi got dark. Got money hungry. Wanted to be something more powerful. Now he's a monster... maybe he'd always been a monster deep down." Hoseok's voice trailed off, his eyes clouding over as his mind reminisced about a past he had tried so hard to leave behind. About the friend he once had.

"You grew up with Joon too," you countered. "He's shown me he's more of a monster than Yoongi, yet you hold more disdain for Yoongi. Why?"

When you had first met Joon, he was ready to attack an old couple just for a restaurant table, and then he had turned on you for standing up to him.

Hoseok scoffed. "Because I expected this from Joon. Maybe not to this extent of darkness, but Joon was always trouble. He only started hanging out with us after Yoongi met him in juvie at thirteen. And Yoongi didn't truly start getting into trouble until his parents died, that’s when everything changed."

Your mind drifted back to the fair, recalling what the raven had said about his connection to Joon. It was only after Nam-Joon’s release from juvie that they had all become close.

You sighed. None of this answered why Hoseok was so fearful of Yoongi now. They started their empire together, so Hoseok clearly hadn't had any qualms about the lifestyle back then. Why the sudden change? Curiosity burned in the back of your mind, and you opened your mouth to ask, but before you could, your phone started to ring from the other room.

You rushed to your bedroom, snatching the device off the bed. It was Yoongi. "Is that him?" Hoseok called out from the living room. Ignoring his question, you swiped the screen and brought the phone to your ear. "Hello?"

"I'm outside. Come out, and don't take too long," the raven demanded, his tone clipped. He hung up before you could even draw a breath to reply. You clicked your tongue in annoyance, pulling the phone away from your ear. "Listen, Hoseok, I can't sit here and talk about this right now. I have to go," you said, grabbing your purse off the nightstand.

"That was him, wasn't it?" he asked again, stepping toward your bedroom doorway. You offered no answer. "Look, I know I'm just your neighbor, and I can't tell you what to do, but I don't think you should keep hanging around him."

You shook your head, completely unready to process his warnings right now, but he remained persistent.

"Why do you care so much about what I do?" you retorted, eyeing the brunet. "Why do you care if I hang out with Yoongi?"

"Because you remind me of her."

You furrowed your eyebrows. "Of her? Who's her?"

Hoseok's eyes began to water, a raw pain breaking through his serious facade. "The only woman I've ever loved. She's gone... because of him. He took her just to get back at me, and he got away with it."

"What? What do you mean?"

Before Hoseok could answer, your phone buzzed violently in your hand. It was a text from Yoongi, undoubtedly urging you to hurry the hell up. "I have to go." You muttered, putting the terrifying conversation aside. You walked out to the entryway and opened your apartment door, gesturing for Hoseok to leave first.

He exited into the dimly lit corridor, but he didn't head toward his own apartment. Instead, he stood out in the hallway, his sorrowful eyes heavy upon you as you locked your door. He stared at you like this was going to be his last time seeing you. “Later, Hoseok.” You say, quickly disappearing down your hall.

The cool outside breeze brushed against your bare skin the moment you stepped out of the building. You immediately recognized Yoongi's black Nissan parked at the curb instead of the sleek red one you two had ridden to the fair in. He switched cars like he switched underwear.

Walking around the hood, you opened the door and climbed into the passenger seat. "Took you long enough," the raven grumbled, not even looking at you as he shifted into drive. "I don't have the patience to be kept waiting."

You grimaced at his sour attitude. The absolute nerve of him to complain about a few minutes when he had just kept you waiting for a full hour. You pulled your seatbelt across your chest and buckled it in, and the car instantly surged forward into the night. Silently, you side eyed him, taking in his outfit. He wore a simple black hoodie with dark jeans, a chain clipped to his belt loops. He was a man who clearly adored his silver; another chain hung around his neck, and a couple of silver rings on his fingers. His long, dark hair was artfully messy, framing his face.

You had been expecting the raven to compliment your dress, as he usually never missed an opportunity to praise your appearance, but he stayed entirely silent, keeping his eyes glued to the dark road. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth. It was weird not hearing Yoongi speak to you. Usually, you were the one giving him the silent treatment. Clearly, he was in a mood, so you opted against mentioning a single word of what Hoseok had just told you. Though curiosity was burning a hole in your chest, you didn’t want to piss him off any further.

Still, you decided to break the silence anyway, completely detesting the suffocating quiet inside the car. “What were you up to that took you so long?” you asked.

He looked over at you, a single sharp eyebrow raised, before turning right back toward the road without offering a word.

“Okay, don’t tell me then,” you huffed. You crossed your arms, turning your back to him to stare out the passenger window. Usually, the raven would have finally broken down and said something sarcastic by now, but instead, he simply reached forward and flicked on the radio.

You whipped your head around in total shock. What the hell was with this attitude? He was acting like a total child, and for the sake of your own sanity, you refused to let it go on for another second.

“Okay,” you started, your hand immediately darting out to slap the radio knob off. “What's your deal right now? You invited me to this stupid kickback, but now you’re acting like you wish I weren’t even here. I blew off a movie night with Jungkook to come out for you, but if you’re gonna be an asshole, then just take me home.”

Yoongi finally looked over at you, his sharp gaze cutting through the dim light of the car. “You blew off your little boyfriend to be with me?”

You nodded, suddenly finding your fingernails incredibly interesting. "I mean, you asked me first. I didn't want to blow you off after saying I'd come."

Yoongi smirked slightly, nodding his head as he looked back at the road. It was as if your words were a sort of confirmation for him. Suddenly, the atmosphere inside the car didn't feel so suffocating anymore. "You look good in that dress." The raven said.

You bit your bottom lip, desperately trying not to smile at the awaited compliment. “You’re an asshole, you’re aware of that, right?”

“Extremely.”

The car pulled up to the warehouse that you'd come to know so well since getting involved with Yoongi. You noticed that, unlike last time, there weren't any people hanging out outside. No girls dressed in little to no clothing. No one smoking by the entrance. It was noticeably different from the last time.

"Am I gonna go upstairs and see a bunch of people in there?" you asked the raven, peeking out the window.

He snickered, turning off the ignition. "It's just Joon, some of my guys, and whatever bitches they brought. Just like I told you yesterday. Don't worry, sweetheart. I wouldn’t steer you wrong.” He assures you, leaning back in his seat.

"I wish you wouldn't call women 'bitches," you said, a look of dismay crossing your features. “It’s so degrading.”

"My apologies, princess. I'll rephrase that; whatever whores they brought." The raven smirked, leaning across the console to catch your eye. "That better for you?"

You rolled your eyes, pushing your door open to climb out into the cool night air. Yoongi follows. The two of you walk up the stairs to the metal door, your mind flashing to when Yoongi had pushed you against it to give you a speech about how you speak to him. He pulls open the door, letting you walk ahead. You hear laughter and music as you walk up the stairs, and the smell of weed nauseated you. As you reach the main room, you’re amazed by how much different it looks without the load of people blocking every which way.

"Wonder Woman, you came through again!" Joon shouted, raising a solo cup high in his hand.

He was sitting amongst the two guys you recognized from last time, along with two others you hadn't seen before. Each of them had a girl sitting either on their lap or squeezed next to them on the couch. You noticed Sana sitting among the group, though she didn't appear to be there with any specific guy. Her sharp eyes locked onto you the exact moment you walked in with Yoongi.

‘Oh great, she's here…’ you thought dreadfully. This was going to be an absolute blast.

Yoongi walked toward an empty space on the couch, dropping down and patting the cushion right next to him. You sat down beside him, deliberately avoiding Sana's gaze as she continued to stare you down. "Here, have a sip." Joon passed you his cup.

You took it, looking down at the clear alcoholic beverage sloshing inside. "What's this?" you asked him.

"It's tequila."

"Yeah, your favorite. Remember?" Sana asked from across the room, her voice dripping with mock sweetness as she clearly referenced the night you had gotten drunk and danced right here in this very room.

You eyed the bitter woman, refusing to let her get under your skin. Without a word, you tipped your head back and downed the drink. The harsh liquor burned the back of your throat as it went down, but you didn't let your expression falter.

Joon hooted loudly, cheering your compliance as you handed him back the empty cup. "Oh, Y/n, you're my kind of woman, doll," Joon laughed.

"Yeah, my girl surely is somethin'," the raven said, casually resting his arm along the back of the couch behind you. You looked over at him, the urge to correct him and say you weren't his girl rising up, but you chose to let it slide for now, not wanting to make this awkward.

You instantly noticed them passing a blunt around the circle. Once Joon took a couple of hits, he offered it directly to you. You shook your head quickly, gesturing for him to pass it to Yoongi instead.

"Oh, c’mon, it's just weed," Joon insisted, still holding it out. “It ain’t gonna kill you.”

"That's fine. I've just never smoked it before," you said awkwardly, suddenly feeling like a complete amateur sitting in a room full of seasoned drug dealers and users.

"Of course you haven't. You're too much of a goody-goody," Sana remarked. The other girls cracked up, making a sudden wave of heat creep up your neck.

"Nothing wrong with being a good girl. A lot of us men find innocence sexy," Yoongi smirked, stepping in as he took the blunt from Joon's fingers. "Leaves room for corruption."

"I'm just scared of how it'll make me feel, that’s all." You admitted softly.

"It's like alcohol, but a different type of intoxication. Here, I'll help you." The raven shifted his weight, leaning in close as he took a long drag. Holding the smoke trapped in his lungs, he gestured with his free hand for you to move closer. You hesitated for a heartbeat, your breath catching, before leaning forward slowly. Yoongi stopped when he was mere inches away from your face, his dark gaze locking onto your mouth before he began to exhale the smoke, breathing it out little by little. Though you were skeptical, you leaned in the final inch, inhaling the gray smoke as it retreated past his lips.

A harsh cough ripped from your throat the second the smoke hit the back of your sensitive lungs. Yoongi moved back just a fraction, a lazy, satisfied grin spreading across his face as he took in your reaction. "See?" he smirked, his voice dropping an octave. "Corrupting you already."

You stared at the raven, bringing your bottom lip between your teeth. The two of you locked eyes, completely forgetting that there was an entire group of people watching your every move.

"Alright, alright, get a room already," Joon teased, snatching the blunt from Yoongi, which didn’t tear away the raven’s gaze. Yoongi kept his eyes firmly on you, entirely unfazed by the audience. "I wouldn't mind getting a room," he said, slowly running his tongue over his bottom lip. You swallowed the lump in your throat, suddenly feeling his hand begin to roam up your exposed thigh.

You quickly stood to your feet, breaking the contact before he could go any further. "Um, I think I could use another drink. I'm assuming the bottle is in the kitchen?" you asked, pointing toward the doorway and letting out an uncomfortable, nervous laugh.

Yoongi simply nodded, his grin turning cocky at your sudden fluster, clearly overjoyed at being the sole cause of it. You quickly shuffled away and escaped into the kitchen, feeling the anxious tightness in your chest finally begin to disperse the moment you were separated from the heavy atmosphere of the group.

Once your heartbeat finally settled, you grabbed an empty solo cup from the counter. Your eyes scanned the kitchen, landing on a bottle of Don Julio. You grabbed it, pulling the cork out with a sharp pop.

"You and Yoongi look super cozy together." The sudden voice startled you. You turned around to see Sana standing in the entryway, her arms crossed tight over her chest. You hadn’t even heard her sneak behind you.

"So what?" you said, turning your back to her again to pour the tequila into your cup.

"So, I thought you were very adamant about not being into him. Do you recall? Or were you too fucked up that night?"

You whipped back around to face her. "I'm not into him," you snapped, your tone sharp. "He just invited me, so I came. That's it."

It was a bold faced lie; anyone in that room could feel the electric tension between you and the raven. You tried your best to hide it, but then he went and pulled stunts like he just did on the couch, and all your defenses came crashing down. You were attracted to Yoongi. That was a fact you could no longer deny to yourself. But deep down, you knew nothing could ever come of it. You were with Jungkook.

You just hated that you had to keep reminding yourself of that.

“You can say whatever you want, convince yourself of whatever you need, but you can’t convince me,” Sana snarled, her voice dropping to a harsh, mocking tone. “I mean, I don’t blame you. He’s Min Yoongi. Out of all those guys sitting out there, he has a presence that no woman can resist. Clearly not even you, Miss Goody-Goody. Once he gets what he wants from you, then leaves you heartbroken, you’re gonna wish you listened to me.”

With one last judgmental look, she turned on her heel and swept out of the entryway, leaving you completely alone in the quiet kitchen. You quickly downed the burning liquid in your cup, letting it sear your throat as you emptied every last drop before immediately pouring yourself another one. Just as the liquor splashed into the bottom of the solo cup, you heard heavy footsteps approaching from behind. You turned slightly, watching the raven slide effortlessly into the kitchen.

"Slow down there, lightweight," he teased, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips as he took in the sight of the bottle in your hand. "I don't need you blacking out here."

You glared at him, throwing back the second drink before slamming the cup down onto the counter. "I'm ready to leave."

"What?" The raven raised an eyebrow, his lazy grin instantly vanishing. "We just got here," he stated, pointing out the obvious.

"Yeah, well, I'm not feeling quite like a people person tonight," you muttered, your mind in a million different places. First, there was Jungkook saying he loved you. Then, Hoseok's chilling warning. And now Sana with her crazy jealousy, clearly nowhere near over her past with Yoongi. It was all too much. You’d rather just have been alone to process everything, but Yoongi remained persistent about you staying.

“You don’t have to be. It won’t be too long before the guys dip out to get their nut off,” the raven said, his slow grin returning. He stepped a fraction closer to you, tilting his head to catch your eyes. “Then it’ll just be me and you… unless I’m included in your desire to not be around people right now?”

Naturally, you didn’t mind being around just Yoongi. He was the sole reason you had even come in the first place. But there was always a stubborn moral compass ringing inside your head, reminding you that any feelings you harbored toward the raven were wrong; a complete betrayal not only to Jungkook, but to Mina, too.

Yoongi literally sold coke to Mina's boyfriend, ruthlessly using him as one of his drug mules. Not to mention the terrifying reality that Yoongi had probably killed people, whether indirectly or by his own hands. Though, you weren't entirely sure how true that part actually was. A drug dealer? That fact was completely undeniable. But a killer? Could Yoongi truly be capable of murder? The man you had seen at the fair, the one who had looked at you with soft eyes, and shared a deep moment with you, couldn't possibly be a monster.

“Well, what about Sana?” you asked suddenly.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow, his dark eyes narrowing slightly at the random mention of Sana. “What the fuck about her?”

"She's here. Why don't you just have her keep you company?" you scowled, turning back around to pour another drink. But before you could even pop the cork out, Yoongi snatched the bottle completely out of your hand. He didn't say a word at first, his eyes locking onto yours as he set the bottle down on the counter behind him, clearing the distraction out of the way.

“Is that where this little attitude is coming from? Sana? I thought I told you I only fucked her once.”

"I don't care how many times you did. It's none of my business," you lied, keeping your voice tight as you tried to save face. "I just thought I'd make it clear that you have other options and don't need me here."

The raven stared at you for a moment, his riveted look causing you to fidget.

"When are you gonna stop pretending there's nothing here and just give in to me?" Yoongi asked, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous murmur as he took another step toward you. You instinctively tried to back away from him, but the hard edge of the counter pressed against your lower back, leaving you with absolutely no space left to move.

"B-because there isn't.." you stuttered, the denial tasting like ash on your tongue.

Yoongi closed the remaining distance between you two, his hands coming down to rest on the counter on either side of your hips. You were completely sandwiched between the raven and the cold marble surface. Your heart thumped frantically against your chest as he began to lean down toward your lips, his gaze dropping to your mouth. "There isn't?" he questioned, his breath fanning across your skin.

"Yo, Honcho–" Joon’s voice cut through the air as he popped his head through the entryway of the kitchen. He froze for a beat, taking in the sight of the two of you trapped in each other's space, before the corner of his lips pulled into a knowing smirk. “I always seem to pop in on you two at the craziest times,” he teased.

"What is it, Joon?" Yoongi's voice was rough, dripping with irritation at his second in command as he turned his head slightly to look at him, though his hands never left the counter, keeping you securely pinned.

"Me and the guys are gonna dip and handle our due diligence," Joon said, flashing a quick wink. It didn't take a scientist to figure out what he meant. It was exactly what Yoongi had predicted just minutes ago; they were heading out to get their nut off.

Yoongi nodded, but his full, dark attention immediately snapped back to you. "Is Sana still here?" he asked Joon, his eyes tracking the way your chest rose and fell.

"Yeah, she is. Why, what's up?"

"Send the bitch on her way," Yoongi said coldly.

"Say less," Joon complied, stepping backward out of the kitchen and leaving you and the raven completely alone once again.

You could hear his retreating footsteps heading back to the living room, followed shortly by the distant, muffled sound of him telling Sana it was time to go. "There. Problem solved, sweetheart," Yoongi said, finally taking a single step back from you, though his dark gaze never wavered. The raven reached over and grabbed the bottle of Don Julio, shaking it slightly in the air as a lazy smirk crept back onto his face. "Now it's just you and me. So, how about we drink and have a kickback of our own?"

"Then I tried to hop over the fence and my shirt got caught," Yoongi smirked, tucking a stray strand of his dark hair behind his ear as he recounted the first time he went to juvie.

The two of you were easily ten shots in by now, having moved the bottle from the kitchen to the living room couch. You were completely enveloped in a rare state of security. You sat comfortably against the cushions with your shoes discarded on the floor, your legs curled up tightly under you. Yoongi sat close beside you, leaning forward over his knees as he flicked a lighter to life, igniting another blunt.

You giggled at the raven's story, shaking your head. "Why didn't you just try to slip the shirt off?" you asked him.

"I was running for like thirty minutes trying to get away. At that point, I was too tired. I just said fuck it, take me," he chuckled. He shoved the lighter back into his sweatshirt pocket before taking a few deep puffs of the blunt, the tip glowing a dull orange in the dim room. "Anyway, shit happens for a reason. I wouldn't have met Joon if I didn't get caught that day."

Hearing him mention his first encounter with Joon instantly brought you back to Hoseok. You wanted to tell him about your neighbor’s crazy rambling, but you couldn't bring yourself to ruin the tranquil mood. The peace was too fragile; the second Hoseok’s name was even uttered, Yoongi’s entire demeanor would sour.

Yoongi looked over at you, extending his hand with the blunt pinched tightly between his index finger and thumb. "You wanna hit this?" he asked. You looked down at the brown wrap. You hesitated for a split second, but ultimately took the blunt from his fingers, your skin brushing against his.

Putting it to your lips, you took a few light, careful puffs, still too afraid to take massive hits the way Yoongi did. The raven smiled, his dark eyes watching you intensely, as if he expected you to choke if he wasn't being vigilant. "Thatta girl, princess. Shotgunned off of me once and now I got you smoking like a pro," he said proudly, his voice low and laced with satisfaction. You exhaled the smoke, then handed the blunt back to the raven.

"Don't get used to me doing that. I'm just enjoying the moment," you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

Yoongi shrugged, taking another slow hit from the blunt. "I'm proud either way, angel," he said.

You stiffened slightly at the nickname. You had never heard Yoongi call you that before. It was a term of endearment that belonged entirely to Jungkook. He used it all the time. Suddenly, your mind was flooded with the memory of Jungkook slipping up and saying he loved you at work earlier today, and a crushing wave of guilt washed over your chest. Here you were, hiding away and getting high with Yoongi, while Jungkook mindlessly believed you were just hanging out with Mina right now.

Yoongi's sharp eyes immediately noticed the shift, catching the exact moment you zoned out and went miles away. "You good?" he asked, his brow furrowing slightly as he studied your face. You debated on whether or not you should tell him what Jungkook had said today. Would he even care?

"Um... Jungkook said he loved me today." You looked over at the raven, your eyes searching his face to read his expression.

Yoongi ran his fingers through his dark hair, nodding his head slowly as if absorbing the news without letting it shake him. "And then what?" he asked, his voice steady as he waited for you to continue further.

"And then... nothing," you shrugged, the weight of the confession making your shoulders feel heavy. "I said nothing when he said it. I feel so horrible." You sighed, rubbing your hands over your face to shield yourself from the quiet of the room. You cared about Jungkook deeply, but these past few days, everything has felt entirely off between you two.

You felt... bored. Like the excitement was lost in the three months of dating. Maybe it took meeting someone like Yoongi to realize that.

"You don't love him," Yoongi stated, his voice flat and certain, as if he personally knew your own feelings and heart better than you did.

You furrowed your eyebrows at him, your chest tightening defensively. "What?"

"You don't love him," he casually repeated. He reached over to grab an empty Solo cup from the coffee table, dropping the butt of the blunt inside.

"And how the hell would you know how I feel?" you shot back, trying to summon enough anger to mask the panic rising in your throat.

"Because you're here with me," Yoongi said, leaning back against the cushions and pinning you with an intense look. "You turned down a movie night with him to spend time with me. That alone should tell you something."

You opened your mouth to defend your actions, but the words died in your throat. You couldn't. You were here with Yoongi, and the bitter, undeniable truth was that you didn't regret the decision at all.

You were genuinely enjoying these casual conversations with him. Ever since the Daegu fair, the raven had become entirely humanized in your eyes. Even though he sold drugs and carried a dangerous, mean streak to his name, you liked him.

You liked Yoongi.

The silence in the living room stretched between you, heavy and thick with the smell of smoke, as his words settled deep into your chest. Yoongi just tracked the movement of your lips, waiting, knowing he had trapped you in a corner where lies couldn't save you. So you didn’t attempt it.

You casually looked around, admiring the decor of the warehouse and searching for absolutely anything to change the suffocating topic. Your eyes landed on an all black acoustic guitar hanging neatly on the wall right next to the loft stairs. "That's a cool guitar," you said, motioning toward it.

Yoongi pulled his gaze away from you, tracking your movement until his eyes landed on the instrument. "That's my baby right there. My mom bought it for me before she passed," he said, a genuine, soft smile tugging at his lips at the memory of his mother.

"You play?" you questioned, a little surprised. "I thought it was just for decoration."

"Don't insult me, sweetheart. I don't do things just for the look," he rumbled playfully. He stood up from the cushions, walking over to retrieve the guitar from its mount before coming back to sit down on the couch right beside you. Yoongi began to tune the guitar, his long fingers adjusting the pegs with practiced ease. You were completely surprised he could even function with all the alcohol and weed running through his system, but the substances didn't seem to phase him even a little bit.

The raven strummed the strings to see if the tune was to his liking, the chords ringing out deep and crisp into the high ceilings of the warehouse. Then, his fingers shifted, and he began to play.

You watched him intently. He looked completely relaxed, his dark eyes focused on the fretboard as he plucked out an all too familiar melody—one that immediately made your chest tighten and your heart feel incredibly massive.

Knocking on Heaven's Door by Bob Dylan.

That was your dad's favorite song.

You hadn't heard the song in so long, having avoided it at all costs ever since your parents died. Yet, here Yoongi was playing it, handling the notes as though he could read your heart like an open book. The raven looked up at you, his fingers never missing a single strum despite his eyes locking onto yours. You felt a single tear escape and slip down your cheek. A quiet movement that didn't go unnoticed by him.

Yoongi immediately stopped playing, flattening his palm over the strings to kill the vibration. "You okay? I didn't mean to make you emotional," he murmured, his voice dropping into something genuinely gentle.

You shook your head, sniffing softly as you tried to swallow the lump in your throat. "No, you're fine. It's just... that song you played. It reminded me of my dad, that's all. That was his favorite song," you informed him, your voice cracking slightly on the words.

A wave of sympathy softened his sharp features. He carefully set the black guitar down onto the floor, completely discarding it to move closer to you on the cushions. Reaching out, the raven gently brushed the pad of his thumb against your cheek, wiping away the stray tear. “You’re too pretty to cry,” he whispered, his thumb lingering against your skin.

Min Yoongi.

When you first met him, those eyes made you shiver. They were scary, cold, and lifeless; the devil's eyes.

Now, those exact same eyes were looking at you like you were something so precious, something so breakable that he wanted to protect you from any further damage.

The raven's lips inched closer to yours. You followed suit, your breath hitching as your eyes fluttered closed, waiting to finally feel the soft pressure of his lips against yours. When his lips finally do meet yours, it wasn’t the harsh, reckless collision you might have expected from someone like Yoongi. It was soft, slow, and desperately tender. A quiet reassurance that sent a tingle straight down your spine. The faint taste of tequila and smoke lingered between you, blurring the edges of the room until nothing else existed but the warmth of his mouth against yours.

Yoongi’s hand slid from your cheek, his long fingers gently gripping the back of your neck to hold you steady, deepening the kiss with a low, heavy breath. You melted into him, your hands finding themselves on the soft fabric of his sweatshirt as you pulled yourself closer.

Every ounce of guilt, every lingering warning from Hoseok, and the ghost of Jungkook’s confession from earlier today were entirely washed away in the dark, quiet haze of the warehouse.

You found yourself slowly being pushed backward onto the plush cushions of the couch, the fabric of your dress riding up your thighs as Yoongi settled his body over yours, positioning himself flush between your legs.

Yoongi didn't break the kiss for a single second. Instead, his mouth grew hungrier, more possessive, tracing the seam of your lips as his hands left your neck to slide down to your waist, his grip firm and steady as he anchored you to the cushions beneath him. The contrast of his heavy frame pinning you down while treating you like something entirely precious made your breath hitch against his lips, your fingers tightening into the fabric of his sweatshirt to pull him even closer.

The sudden loss of his warmth made you gasp softly as Yoongi pulled his lips away from yours. He remained settled heavily between your legs, his dark eyes locked onto you as he crossed his arms and pulled his sweatshirt over his head in one fluid motion. The silver chain around his neck clanked in the quiet room before settling against his collarbone.

He tossed the discarded sweatshirt onto the floor, leaving him in just a plain white tee. Yoongi paused for a second, his chest rising and falling with hefty breaths as he used a hand to push his messy dark locks back out of his face. The intense, protective gaze was still burning in his eyes, but now it was laced with an undeniable hunger. Leaning back forward, he closed the distance between you once again, crashing his lips back onto yours with a newfound fervor that completely stole the air from your lungs.

The raven rolled his hips against you, the sudden, friction filled pressure making a soft whimper escape your lips. His large hands held your waist securely to the cushions before he pulled his lips away once more, all the while still grinding slowly against you.

"I promise to be gentle with you if you let me," he whispered, his breath hot and ragged against your skin. His hands slid up your sides, the rough texture of his palms catching against the fabric as he began to lift your dress further. A sudden wave of nerves crashed over you at the thought, making your chest tighten. You wanted him. You desperately wanted this, but the guilt was a massive wall standing right in the way.

You had always assumed you would lose your virginity to Jungkook. It was supposed to be safe, familiar, and organically planned. But Jungkook wasn't here.

Yoongi was.

He was right here, hovering over you with a patient hunger, waiting for the words that would change everything between you two.

"Y-Yoongi, we can't. I'm with Jungko-"

The raven clamped a hand over your mouth, stopping you from finishing his name. "I don't wanna hear his fucking name right now," he growled. His hips were still grinding into you, but his pace picked up, the sudden intensity making your breath hitch beneath his palm.

The consistent, heavy motion made your panties rub against your clit, sending a tingle straight down your spine. Yoongi slowly pulled his hand away from your lips, his dark eyes burning down into yours with an absolute, possessive gravity. "Tell me you don't want this, and I'll stop," he said, his voice a low command.

You didn't offer the raven any words, just a breathless moan that tore from your throat. A sound that was absolute music to his ears. He smirked down at how needy you looked underneath him, his ego flaring at his total control over you. How could you possibly pretend to not want this when you were coming apart already, and he hadn't even been inside of you yet?

"From the looks of it, you're so deprived that all it’Il take right now is dry fucking for you to cum," he rasped, his voice dropping into a dark, filthy purr that made your stomach completely flip. You couldn't deny it; this simple action really could be enough to cause an orgasm, but deep down, you wanted to go the extra mile with him. "Do it," you whined, your hips blindly tracking his movement as you completely lost your grip on your restraint. "J-Just do it."

That was all Yoongi needed to hear. He stopped grinding into you, pulling back to undo his jeans. He didn't take them fully off, opting instead to pull them down just enough for his hard cock to spring free from his Celine boxers. Your eyes widened slightly, and you swallowed the lump in your throat as you took in the full size and length of him. He was much bigger than you had expected him to be; it was no wonder Sana had a hard time getting over him after their one night stand.

The raven hooked his fingers into the hem of your panties, pulling them down and tossing them onto the floor right next to his sweatshirt. Your dress was still bunched up around your waist, leaving you completely exposed beneath him now. You instinctively tried to close your legs to hide yourself, but with his weight still settled right between your thighs, you couldn't move.

The raven smirked down at your failed attempt to hide, his thighs easily pulling yours further apart, refusing to let you close yourself off. But as he looked down, tracking the panicked rise and fall of your chest and the way you squeezed your eyes shut tight, the smug look vanished. Seeing how scared you were dragged him back to reality, reminding him exactly what this was for you.

Your first time.

The thought alone sent a possessive rush in his veins. You weren’t like the other women he had fucked, then passed around to his crew. You were pure. Untouched. Untainted. Your walls had never been broken, and knowing he was the very first to claim you made him want to lose all control, to pin you down and slam his dick straight into you. But he fought the urge back. He was willing to take this slow. He was willing to be gentle, just like he promised. He wasn't going to force his way in. Not yet.

"Relax for me," he murmured, his voice dropping into a low purr. Bypassing his cock for now, Yoongi reached down, his long fingers finding your slick, dripping heat. He pressed the pad of his thumb against your clit, making you gasp, before he slowly slid a single finger inside of you.

The feeling of his hot skin sliding into you sent an intense, unravelling ache straight to your core. Your inner walls clenched down around him, instantly tight and resistant to the sudden intrusion. Yoongi hissed softly at the brutal friction, the muscle in his jaw feathering as he held himself still. He didn't pull back; instead, he kept his finger buried deep inside you to let your body adapt, while the pad of his thumb began working in small, agonizingly slow circles to coax you open.

A mixture of pain and pleasure flooded your senses. You had never actually inserted anything inside of yourself before, only ever rubbing your clit when you were alone and horny, so this deep, stretching was completely overwhelming. The intensity of the feeling made it impossible to listen to his voice, let alone try to relax.

"Look at me," Yoongi growled, his voice dropping into a rough command as he noticed your breathing hitch. He pressed his thumb a little firmer against your clit, trying to ground you through the sensory overload. "I know it hurts a little, but you need to breathe for me. Let it slip in and out."

Your eyes flutter open upon his command as you try to breathe as told. Slowly, he began to curl his finger inside you, testing your limits and forcing your tight depths to widen for him. The sudden internal hook against your walls completely shattered your concentration, dragging a high, helpless whine from your throat. Your back arched slightly off the couch cushions, your hands clawing blindly into the fabric beside your head as your muscles instinctively clamped down once more around his finger.

Yoongi hissed again through his teeth, his knuckles turning white where his hand rested against the armrest behind your head. The crushing grip of your body around his finger was testing the absolute limits of his control, but he didn't back off. Instead, his gaze darkened with a relentless dominance. "I told you to breathe," he rasped, his voice dropping an octave, rough and completely devoid of room for negotiation.

He leaned more of his weight over you, his lean frame crowding you down and effectively trapping you flat against the cushions. His free hand moved from the armrest to slide up the side of your neck, his thumb bracing firmly under your jaw to tilt your face up. He didn't hurt you, but the grip was ironclad, forcing your eyes right back to his.

With you completely pinned beneath him, the pad of his thumb pressed down hard against your swollen clit, no longer stroking in gentle circles, but applying a heavy, flattening pressure that sent a sudden ache straight through your pelvis. He held it there, demanding your total submission.

"Stop fighting it," he commanded, his eyes burning into yours as he tilted his finger a fraction deeper against your tight walls. "If you can’t take one finger, how’re you supposed to take this dick, huh?” His grip tightens slightly on the side of your neck. “Huh?” he repeated, demanding your answer.

“I-I’m sorry…” you stammered, embarrassment flooding your chest as the weight of his standards settled heavily over you.

Yoongi shook his head at your apology. “Don’t apologize to me, babygirl. Just take it.”

The pet name hits you like a physical shock, melting through the sharp sting of the entrance and sending a completely different kind of heat pooling between your thighs. Hearing him call you that while his frame pinned you to the couch cushions made your heart hammer against your chest. Your fingers twitched against the fabric beside your head, your body instinctively wanting to soften under the sudden warmth of his praise, even as the fullness of his finger remained buried deep inside you, awaiting your compliance.

Your breathing finally began to stutter out in a long, trembling exhale, your chest sinking as you forced yourself to yield to his command. The tense, defensive coil in your hips slowly dissolved into the cushions, allowing the walls of your core to soften and untangle around his finger.

Yoongi watched the change happen in real time, his eyes tracking the exact moment the panic left your expression and your body opened up for him. A low, approving rumble vibrated deep in his chest as the tight friction around his hand gave way to an accommodating heat. "Good girl." he murmured, his voice dropping a quiet praise that made your stomach flutter.

The raven didn't hesitate. Seizing the moment your body relaxed, he slid his thumb out from under your jaw and used his free hand to firmly spread your legs a little wider, anchoring you in place. With a smooth shift of his knuckles, he aligned a second finger against your opening and pushed it straight inside, pairing it alongside the first before immediately driving them deep.

The sudden, thick invasion turned into a heavy, rhythmic thrusting that completely took your breath away. He set a demanding pace right from the start, his wrist moving with practiced precision as his fingers slid all the way in and pulled back just enough to drive right back into your heat. A choked gasp caught in your throat as the friction of two fingers moving deep inside of you stretched your newly softened depths to their absolute limit, the steady, relentless tempo turning the initial ache into an overwhelming fullness.

“Oh fuck–” you cried, your hand mindlessly reaching out to try to grab at his wrist to stop him, but Yoongi smacked it away before you could.

“Don’t touch me,” he growled, the sharp reprimand cutting right through your haze as his fingers kept up their relentless rhythm inside you. Your hand dropped back onto the cushion, your fingers twitching helplessly against the fabric as the pace he was driving into you completely shattered your defenses. Yoongi didn't look down; his dark eyes stayed locked on your face, watching the way your lips parted and your chest heaved with every deep, sliding stroke of his hand.

The slick stretch of two fingers moving in such a demanding, unbothered tempo was turning your embarrassment into a pure, frantic need. He was stretching you out completely, filling you so thoroughly that every push of his wrist sent a hot wave of pressure straight through your hips, forcing you to take every bit of the pace he set.

The relentless, deep pace he was driving into you was rapidly breaking your body down, forcing a thick moisture to coat his skin. Within moments, the fullness of his two fingers began to pump your arousal out, the glossy wetness overflowing your tight opening until it completely drenched his fingers and smeared across the back of his hand.

Yoongi let out a low, gritty sound at the wet squelch of his movements echoing in the quiet room as his knuckles repeatedly pressed against your drenched entrance. The messy, excessive warmth of your own body coating his hand only seemed to make him get rougher, using your own lubrication to drive his fingers even deeper, thoroughly stretching you out until you were dripping against his skin with every single stroke.

The raven’s dark eyes narrowed as he tracked the erratic shudder of your chest, his fingers still ruthlessly working inside you to draw out every drop of your wetness. The sight of you completely undone, trembling on the verge of a breakdown, stripped away the last of his patience.

He abruptly stopped the rhythm, leaving his fingers buried deep and perfectly still inside your swollen depths. The sudden lack of movement was an absolute tease, leaving you stranded on the very edge of a cliff.

He leaned down until his lips brushed the shell of your ear, his breath hot against your skin as he forced his weight heavily over you.“Tell me you want me to fuck you,” he demanded, his voice a deep command that left no room for hesitation. “Say it.”

A high, dire whine broke from your throat at the sudden agonizing stillness, your hips instinctively jerking upward in a silent, pathetic plea for him to keep moving. The tease was unbearable; your body was wound so incredibly tight, practically begging for the release he was intentionally withholding from you.

Yoongi didn't budge an inch. He simply let out a dark, amused huff against your ear, his fingers remained buried like lead inside your dripping pussy. "I didn't ask for a whine," he rasped, his thumb pressing firmly against your jawline to tilt your head back just enough to look at him. "I asked for words. Tell me you want me to fuck you." He repeated the command.

“I–I… I want you fuck me.” You stutter out.

"Good girl," he growled the praise against your ear as he finally withdrew his fingers from your drenched warmth.

The sudden emptiness left you cold for only a second before the weight of his front pressed completely over you, pinning you flat into the couch. He didn't waste another moment. His hand reached down between your bodies, guiding his throbbing cock directly against your swollen opening, smearing your own excess wetness along the head.

He didn't ease into it. With one fluid, commanding thrust of his hips, Yoongi buried himself all the way inside of you, driving deep until his pelvis smacked hard against yours.

Your breath cut off completely, a choked scream tearing from your throat as your fingers clawed desperately into the fabric of his shirt. Your gaze, already locked wide onto his, turned instantly glassy as his sheer thickness stretched you open to an impossible limit, filling you so completely it made your head spin.

“Fuck—” The raven grunted, his upper body hovering over you as he went completely rigid, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

He stayed entirely still, his muscles locked as he forced himself to hold back and let your body adjust to his size. The utter stretch of him filling you to the absolute brim made your hips tremble against the cushions, your breath coming in shallow, ragged hitches beneath his heavy frame.

Every muscle in his back was corded with strain, his pulse hammering heavily where his chest pressed against yours. He took a slow, deep breath, waiting out the initial shock of the fit, though the tight, desperate clench of your walls around his cock was clearly pushing his self control over the edge.

The moment the clenching of your walls finally eased into a welcoming squeeze, Yoongi let out a satisfied groan. He didn't give you a second to recover. Pulling back just enough to catch his leverage, he drove his hips forward, initiating a hard, deliberate rhythm that completely altered the gravity of the room. The slow, punishing depth of his first few strokes was consuming; he slid almost entirely out before sinking all the way back in, bottoming out against you with a wet, heavy thud that rattled the breath right out of your lungs.

He growled, his hands locking firmly on your hips to keep you pinned into the cushions as his pace began to quicken. "Fuck, your pussy feels so good. Just like I imagined."

The steady, intense heat of his body against yours quickly became a relentless blur as his speed increased. The contact was rougher now, the coarse denim of his jeans and the fabric of his boxers scraping against your inner thighs with every aggressive plunge.

The sound of his skin and denim slapping against you echoed loud in the room, driving home the raw, bruising pace he was establishing. With every powerful thrust, his pelvis collided hard against your hips, the tight fullness stretching you so completely that a series of needy, high pitched moans broke from your throat. Because it was your first time, the sheer magnitude of the sensation was almost too much to process; every single movement sent a wave of sweet ache straight through your body, a deep tightness that was simultaneously agonizing and intoxicating as he broke you in.

Yoongi’s gaze never left your face, his eyes dark and entirely focused as he hovered over you. As his upper body leaned in closer to deepen the angle, the chain around his neck swung free. “God, you’re so pretty.” He breathed out. “The best pussy I’ve ever fucking had.”

“Y-Yoongi…” you moaned, your hands balling up the fabric of his shirt tightly. The raven flashed his gummy smile at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue. It was something he could listen to over and over again.

“Fuck… say my name again.”

"Y-Yoongi..." you cried out again, your voice completely breaking as your eyes fluttered closed, your mind dissolving under the weight of pleasure, until the sudden sharp, stinging sensation of his fingers gently smacked your cheek, snapping your eyes back open.

"Look at me," he commanded, his voice growing incredibly rough and strained as his pace became frantic. "I want you looking at me while I fuck you.” He panted, undoubtedly coming close to his end. You were close as well, feeling an intense feeling build up in your stomach.

"Look at how wet you are for me," he rasped, his dirty talk turning completely unfiltered as he felt the contractions of your walls tightening around him. He drove into you harder, faster. "You're taking every single inch of me."

Your vision blurred at the edges as that coiled heat in your stomach wound tighter and tighter, threatening to snap. Every touch felt magnified a hundred times over because it was him, because it was your first time, and the vulnerability of being completely pinned beneath his weight had your mind spinning out of control.

Yoongi let out a low, breathless laugh, his hips stuttering as the deep squelch of your pussy and his thrusts echoed loudly. "Fuck, look what we did," he groaned, his voice dripping with dark satisfaction as he looked down at where your bodies met. "You completely soaked the couch underneath us, baby. You're dripping all over the cushions for me."

Hearing those words sent a heavy wave of heat straight to your face, a mix of intense shyness and absolute surrender that made you squeeze him even tighter.

"Y-Yoongi, I'm gonna..." you cried out, your fingers letting go of his shirt so you could wrap your arms securely around his neck, pulling him down against you. Your hips bucked up instinctively against his, completely consumed by the pressure. "I'm about to cum..."

His dark eyes flared with desperation, his pace turning completely frantic at your admission. Strands of his damp, raven hair fell completely into his face, clinging to his sweaty forehead and obscuring his vision, but he didn't even try to brush them away as he stared down at you through the dark fringe. He slid his arms beneath your back, wrapping them tightly around you and locking you in an embrace that left no space between your chests.

"Me too, baby, fuck, I'm right there with you," he panted out, his voice entirely undone.

He bottomed out hard, his chest heaving as he stared down at you with completely blown out eyes, caught instantly as the coiled tension in your stomach snapped. “Oh god, fuck!” You scream aloud. An explosive, blinding wave of release crashed through you, your walls clamping down on him in tight, frantic pulses.

"I wanna watch my cum dripping out of this tight little pussy when I'm done with you." Yoongi growled, his grip tightening around you as the muscles in his back locked up, your climax triggering his own.With a final, deep thrust, Yoongi threw his head back, his dark hair tossing wildly away from his face. A loud, guttural groan tore from his throat as he came heavily inside you, his entire frame shuddering violently within your embrace as he poured himself into your tightness, locking you both into the shared, breathless aftershocks of the peak.

The violent shuddering of his body slowly subsided, leaving only the sound of your shared, ragged breathing filling the quiet room. For a long moment, neither of you moved. Yoongi remained buried deep inside you, his heavy frame completely draped over yours, his face buried in the crook of your neck as his chest heaved against your breasts.

The tight grip of his arms around your back gradually softened, his hands now simply resting against the fabric of your dress, tracing comforting circles into your waist through the material. You could feel the rapid thumping of his heartbeat right against your ribs, slowly syncing up with your own.

With a low, exhausted grunt, Yoongi shifted his weight, propping himself up on his forearms to look down at you, careful not to crush you on the narrow cushions. Strands of his damp, raven hair were still stuck to his forehead, framing eyes that were dark, heavy lidded, and utterly soft. The intimidating intensity from moments before was completely gone, replaced by a quiet, protective warmth.

"You okay?" he murmured, his voice incredibly deep from the groans he’d just let out. He raised one hand, his thumb gently brushing against your skin, his touch entirely tender.

“Mhm..” You nod breathlessly, your body feeling liquefied, a pleasant ache settling deep into you.

A slow, satisfied smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he looked down at where your bodies were still joined beneath the bunched up layers of your dress. True to his word, as he slowly and carefully began to pull himself out of your slick cunt, a thick, white stream of his release mixed with your own, dripping out of you and pooling onto the already damp fabric of the couch cushions beneath your hips.

"Look at that," Yoongi whispered, a low rumble of dark satisfaction vibrating in his chest as he stared at the messy sight. He leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, tasting the salt of your skin. “You did so fucking good for your first time, baby." He praises you.

The raven collapsed back down onto you, shifting his legs so they tangled thoroughly with yours on the snug space of the couch. He tucked his face right back into your neck, wrapping his arms securely around your torso to anchor you against his chest. He didn't care about the state of his slid down jeans or the dampness of your dress; he just wanted to hold you against him as the adrenaline finally began to fade and he began to fall asleep.

Your mind was a chaotic tangle of thoughts you couldn't quite straighten out. The reality of what just happened was crashing down in waves. You had just lost your virginity. And it wasn't just to anyone; it was to Yoongi, the last person you ever expected to be in this position with.

But beneath that realization lay the heaviest weight of all; Jungkook.

The thought of his name sent a sharp, confusing pang straight through your chest. You had cheated. The word felt ugly, completely incompatible with the hazy, warm weight of Yoongi resting on top of you, yet it was undeniably there. Did you regret it? The alcohol and smoke clouded your brain too much to give you a straight answer. There was no clarity to be found right now, no easy wave of guilt or sudden rush of justification. There was no going back from this. No fixing it, no pretending it was a mistake born purely out of a messy night. The moment you had agreed to come to Yoongi’s warehouse, the trajectory of everything had shifted.

All you knew for certain, as you stared blankly into the dimly lit room with Yoongi’s heartbeat thumping steady against your ribs, was that everything was about to change.

Taglist

his timeline is steady and his patience is unnerving. flirting lasted two weeks before he asked you out, you went on dates for two months before he asked to be your boyfriend, and now you're hoping it's only another two minutes before he does something more than kiss you.

because if he wanted to fuck you, he would, right? he would subtly hint at it and tease you until you admitted that you want him just as badly. he would kiss you breathless and laugh as you chased his lips. he would want you to initiate, to take unapologetically. that's what you were used to. that's how your brain had been wired, through a system that rewarded your greed.

if you were naive enough to answer the text messages blowing up your phone, that itch could be scratched. you would not have to do more than give him a look.

seonghwa's leather couch shifts under his weight as he angles his body towards you, "you're quiet tonight. is everything okay?"

"i'm stressed,” you lie, putting your phone on the armrest and hoping he can’t see the brightness of every notification through your privacy screen.

his gaze is tender as he studies your features. you’re not sure what he’s looking for, but he finds it and hums in understanding.

hands sneak under the blanket and hook themselves around your legs, pulling them onto his lap, “is this okay?"

you nearly roll your eyes at how careful he is, but the worried curve of his pillowy lips makes it hard to be annoyed, “yes. hwa, you can touch me, you know?”

"i know,” he agrees, flashing you a pretty smile, “but i don't wanna make you—”

"—if i were ever uncomfortable, i would tell you.”

he hesitates before nodding, his hands just barely grazing the underside of your calves in slow motions, “good. what's on your mind?"

"i have… a lot of pent-up energy i want to take out,” you reply, fighting the urge to guide his hands higher, closer to where you need him.

there’s a second of silence as his adam’s apple bobs, and your eyes trace the movement.

"maybe we could, uh, go on a walk?" he asks, almost like it hurts to get words out.

his slender fingers are a little firmer on your skin, but just as slow, and you want to claw at the leather underneath you. you need it to be tonight. unlike him, you feel your patience running thin, and you’re so far gone that you could settle for dry-humping and messy kissing.

“do you need me to beg for it?”

"what?"

you exhale sharply, shoving the blanket to the side, moving your legs off his lap, and straddling him in a few swift movements. he startles, hands retracting to his sides as you settle down on him.

a frown etches itself onto your features and you take his hands in yours and guide them up your thighs, past your hips, and up your sides. his skin is soft on yours, and you nearly shiver as you lean closer, “please, i need you. please. do something, i can’t wait.”

"don’t beg,” he breathes out, struggling to look you in the eyes, “you never need to beg me for anything.”

your hands move off of his and you feel his grip on your sides loosen, but you can’t settle for that. not anymore. so you lean closer until his lips meet yours.

the kiss is charged with unbridled want, and your body doesn’t lag. as soon as he begins kissing you back, your hips begin to grind against his, the fabric of your shorts catching against his sweats.

his lips part in a moan at the feeling, and for the first time, he takes initiative by moving a hand from your waist to bring you closer by the nape of your neck. it’s different from his usual hand against your cheek, and his slipping restraint fans the flame building in your guts.

but he makes no other move— he doesn’t lean into your touch, his hips don’t grind up against yours, and he doesn’t even try to guide your movements by your waist. it’s more like he’s letting you use him rather than indulging in you.

“fuck,” he murmurs as he moves away from your lips, a strangled huff slipping past his mouth. his eyes trail down to where your hips meet his and his eyes squeeze shut. “fuck, you’re making this really difficult.”

rarely did he curse around you, if at all. but you found yourself becoming addicted to the expletives dropping from his pretty mouth, taking them as signs that he was affected by you. it makes you dizzy, the knowledge that he’s trying his hardest to be respectful and failing.

“seonghwa,” you say, slowing down your movements on his lap, “don’t you want me?”

there’s a moment of hesitation as he stares at you like you’ve just slapped him, “of course i do. this isn’t about what i want, it’s about… you’ve told me about the guy before me. i don’t want to make you feel the way he did.”

well, maybe not emotionally. because you might die if seonghwa couldn’t make you feel how he did physically.

your breathing quickens at the mention of the guy who’s surely still blowing up your phone. you resist the urge to glance at the device resting on the armrest of the couch.

seonghwa continues, his expression sincere as his hand moves away from under your shirt. he places it over yours where it rests on his chest for leverage, “believe me, it hurts me to say no. but i want to do this right. i want it to be special, for you to be completely sure of me. i want trust and connection and… i don’t want you to think i only want this from you. can you wait a little longer?”

embarrassment, hot and stinging, rushes through your body as you abruptly stop moving. you could feel him, hard underneath you, and you’d be impressed with his restraint if it wasn’t stopping you from getting what you wanted.

“okay,” you agree with a nod, climbing off of him with averted eyes, “yeah, i’ll wait.”

he looks at you with what feels like pity in the moment, a hand circling your wrist, “i’m not rejecting you, angel. i respect you, and i care, and i really want to show you that rather than tell you. is that okay?”

maybe you should be flattered. he isn’t treating you like a piece of meat, like something to be claimed and then tossed. but your nerves feel like they’re on fire with need and you can’t help the frustration building up. “that’s okay. thank you, seonghwa.”

“you don't have to thank me,” he replies with an easy smile, as if the past few moments didn’t happen, you aren’t dripping, and his pants aren’t straining against his hard-on, “you deserve better than a quickie on my couch on a random night.”

you aren’t sure if he’s right. but you mirror his grin until the moment he drops you off at your place with a kiss to your temple.

for the first time since your failed attempt at initiating sex, you check your phone. it’s another one of those nights, apparently. there are weeks of radio silence. some days you only get a view of your profile and no texts. others you get a single call while you sleep. but tonight, it’s one the ones where he spams your phone. you read only the last few.

unknown number | are you still with the guy?

unknown number | the one with the long hair

unknown number | i stalked his profile

unknown number | he seems nice? good for you

unknown number | too nice though

unknown number | bet he doesn’t fuck you how you like

unknown number | probably doesn’t know how to handle you 

unknown number | or how fucking greedy you are 

unknown number | don’t pretend you don’t miss me

unknown number | bet you even kept our videos

unknown number | i kinda wish i had sometimes

he stopped texting around an hour ago. and it might be the frustration, but you respond for the first time in months.

you | who is this?

the reply is immediate.

unknown number | fuck

unknown number | i knew it

unknown number | hi baby, it’s been too long

unknown number | answer my calls

the regret doesn’t even reach you before you’re typing back.

you | stop spamming

you | i’m content with him

he sends a thumbs down reaction to both messages.

unknown number | no thanks

unknown number | and ‘content’ is funny

unknown number | not happy?

unknown number | probably not pleased, i can tell he doesn’t know

there it is. how easily he knows exactly what to say to get under your skin.

you | doesn’t know what, wooyoung?

that one message changes the conversation entirely. he stops typing and takes longer to respond. when he does, it’s an audio message. you regret playing it as soon as you hear the honeyed voice coming from your speakers.

“got tired of typing,” he murmurs, taking a deep breath before continuing, “but i’m glad you’re not pretending anymore.”

you nearly pause the message and toss your phone, but you hear that familiar laugh and your thumb hesitates.

“you know, i promised myself i wouldn’t go stalk his page. but i couldn’t help myself tonight. i’m a little drunk. you can probably tell, huh? but what the hell is your type? we’re nothing alike,” you hear the sounds of him typing on a keyboard before he continues, “graduated from a good university, close to his family, models for his friends' clothing brand— wow. i’m almost happy for you.”

as always, he wants a reaction. you bite the inside of your cheek.

“if you’re listening at this point, he must not be as good as he seems, huh? what is it? bad breath? does he make you split the bill?” he giggles at his own jokes and you shake your head as if he can see you, “but i know what’s more likely. i bet he can’t handle you. not like i can.”

it ends there. abrupt, like he accidentally cut himself off and sent it anyway. you keep the message out of muscle memory and wince when you realize he’ll see you saved it.

unknown number | wow

unknown number | i thought you wanted to be left alone?

you | i do

unknown number | so go ahead and block me

you | i do what i want

unknown number | i know that better than anyone

unknown number | it’s my favorite thing about you

you don’t reply. another few minutes go by before he sends another audio message.

“do you remember the time…” he interrupts himself with breathless laughter, “the first time you asked me to come over and not the other way around? i remember. i think about it all the time, don’t you? up until then, you acted like it wasn’t mutual. and after that, you started calling me over like i was getting paid for it.”

there’s a small pause. you hear fabric shifting around, “you started using me like a fuckin’ toy. i loved it. i loved it cause you were just as mean as i needed. god, it was hot.”

your neck heats up at the memories. how he would smile unabashedly at you as you used him to get off, with no concern for his own pleasure. animalistic.

“i still don’t understand why you cut me off and gave me a speech about using you. that’s such bullshit,” he says, tone melting into something lower, “you caught feelings and you were embarrassed. pushing blame onto me doesn’t erase that.”

your phone pings with a good night text from seonghwa and you swipe it away as you keep listening.

“i did kinda take advantage of the fact you liked me. a little, i won’t lie. but it was so easy with you. there wasn’t any pretending, no dinner as boring foreplay, you were straight to the point. i miss that. you. your skin and how good you smell. and i can’t believe i’m missing out on it over some guy who would probably feel sick if you told him half of what we’ve done.”

your stomach sinks at his comment, the way he laughs it off like it means nothing. the worst part, you like it. you clench at the desperation climbing into his voice the more he speaks, the way he’s so direct about his desire.

“if you didn’t block me, i’m assuming you still have our videos. i wonder if you watch them and get off to them,” his voice wavers, “fuck, i‘m already hard thinking about it. call me. call me anytime, whether you’re done with that guy or not. i’ll come over like i used to. everything could be like it used to be.”

the message ends there. you have two minutes to keep the memo, and you nearly do, just to replay the last part and hear the whine in his voice that he tries to suppress. but the message disappears and you’re in the same exact spot on your bedroom floor, face warm and panties even wetter than before.

wooyoung doesn’t say anything else. not another call or text, doesn’t even like a message.

he’s put the ball in your court.

and he’s right, you have the videos. as proof that you weren’t crazy, that he had murmured a few ‘i love you’s while his hips were pressed against yours. that it had been real and not something to scoff at like he did when you asked for more.

“what more could you want?” he’d said, and you stopped replying to his texts soon after. you fell back against his mattress a few more times out of weakness, but you finally gathered the strength to leave. you met seonghwa only a month later.

the first message you received when you posted your new boyfriend was from that anonymous account. ‘you’re quick,’ is all they said.

too quick, you think. seonghwa’s name glows on your screen and you ignore it.

right now, you’re so worked up you would do anything to get off.

the easiest way? the videos saved in your hidden folder in your camera roll. whether you chose his favorite, with you in doggy and a close up of where you were connected, or yours, where he had you in a mating press with his lips against yours the entire time, was completely unimportant.

guilt would eat you alive anyway.

the texts stop coming in. the mysterious spam calls and the views on your stories disappear. in their place comes an all-consuming force: regret.

it’s only been a week since you’d received those voice messages from wooyoung and gotten off to his voice. you had scrolled through your hidden folder like a lunatic, watching short clips and long videos that told stories that hurt to remember as much as they hurt to forget. 

the earliest video he’d recorded spontaneously when you were both so turned on you during a house party that you could barely think straight. that night is too fresh in your mind; it had started with you grinding on a strange man to prove a point. it ended with wooyoung’s hand pressing your face against the cold marble of a bathroom sink.

another short clip not long after, focused on the bounce of your hips against his, your reflections in his full length mirror barely visible. he had a crazed look in his eyes, the look you mistook for affection no matter how many times he’d reminded you it wasn’t.

you hate first few videos. taken around the beginning of the year when you’d started hooking up. the way he talked to you was clipped, like he knew nothing about you other than how good you felt around him. most of them cut off right below your neck, with your face down and the focus of the video on your ass or the arch of your back. his groans were strained, and his hands were as shy as they could be for someone like him. it wasn’t the man who would hold your hand as he ate you out or the man whose thumb would graze the peak of your cheekbone as he pleaded against your lips for ‘one more’.

the videos dated in july were once your favorites. they were slower, more sensual. if you try hard enough, you can will yourself to believe that he meant every word that dropped from his lips. wooyoung, the man who used to fuck you like he was in a hurry to leave before the sun set, was almost delicate during the summer you spent together. your hand would wrap around his neck, and the tanned skin of his cheeks would cave in with those deep dimples you’d learned to love. he would hold you impossibly close to him, head tilted back, awaiting a string of spit from your lips. his tongue would clean up the tears trailing down your face after his hand came down too harshly between your legs. neither of you were below begging. it’s why you went well together.

perhaps the intimacy he constructed was one you weren’t meant to indulge in. when mumbled ‘i love you’s filled the minimal space between you, you should have ignored them, the way he ignored every request for him to stay the night. the illusion was supposed to remain unaddressed; he was always going to deny that he meant anything he said. wooyoung’s words were worth as little as your self-respect. because even when he’d laughed in your face, clarified his lack of intention, and pushed you away, you crawled back into his bed. too many times to count. more than you are willing to admit to yourself. 

even now, your thumb hovers above the button that could delete the entire album of videos you’ve kept. it would take two clicks, but the idea of losing that evidence terrifies you. so you chicken out, tossing your phone to the side in frustration. it bounces on your mattress once before landing on the smooth wood of your floor with a soft thud. 

when you lift the device back up, the screen is shattered. 

wooyoung is counting down the days. his calendar is full of circles and marks in black pen. friends’ birthdays, due dates at work, parties to attend. the winter is full of events and holidays, but none as important as the date he has marked in red. one week ago, the day you’d finally caved in. 

it’s not like he’s obsessed with you or anything, but you hurt his pride back in august, when you’d ended things. he thought you were bluffing. that you’d come back on a late night like always, too ready for someone who had cussed him out hours earlier. but you didn’t.

he was stuck in complete silence from you. he’d texted and called to no avail. he even considered showing up unannounced, but that was desperate. desperation wasn’t the role wooyoung took in your exchanges. 

a few days passed, then a few weeks, and before he knew it, you had a new toy to keep you busy. namely, park seonghwa. he was admittedly handsome and well-off from the looks of his profile. the kind of guy that gets you flowers just because. the kind that writes you sappy messages while you sleep. the kind that meets your parents and friends with shaky hands because he cares and he wants to make a good impression.

everything wooyoung isn’t.

to say wooyoung is jealous would be an overstatement. sure, if he could choose his life, he wouldn’t mind ending up like seonghwa. but wooyoung had taken too many left turns along the road for that to ever happen. 

he tried to move past you. called a few girls over, kicked them out afterwards, like he used to.

it didn’t work. not for long, anyway. the foggy nights would tide him over for a few days, keep him off your profile and away from your contact. but the feeling never lasted. 

as he looks through your profile for the hundredth time, he isn’t sure what exactly is keeping him there. he decides it must be the hit to his ego. the fact that things ended before he decided he was done. 

a little ‘s’ captions a highlight you have pinned, and wooyoung scrolls through it. it’s like all the typical couple’s highlights– dinner dates, flowers, sunsets– boring. so unlike you. 

he wonders if the smiling man has any idea he exists and hasn’t even been blocked. he wonders what kind of story you told him about your past relationships.

all he knows is that seonghwa has probably seen your posted pictures as often as he has. probably jerked off to them and felt shame afterwards. 

wooyoung can’t relate to that feeling. not even now, as he undoes his belt buckle, glancing at the calendar next to his desk. 

he gives it another two weeks before everything falls back into his hands.

the late autumn afternoon is particularly silent. only wind rushes against your windows, creating a small howl that you’d find creepy if your mind wasn’t so preoccupied with figuring out the exact shade of white paint on your ceiling.

your room is a complete mess, pairs of pants strung across the back of your desk chair while two large trash bags hold old clothes you’re not sure you’re ready to let go of.

you know you’re spiraling. there’s an unfinished bowl of oatmeal too close to the edge of your nightstand, probably already gone bad with how long it’s been sitting there. you can’t remember if you even checked that you turned off the stove before frantically deciding to deep clean your closet. but you decide to stay on the ground rather than check. 

with a frustrated swipe of your hand down your face, you feel around the ground to find your phone. when your fingers reach the cold device, you pause. who could you even call and tell all your worries? you had impulsively ghosted your therapist after they doubled their prices. that wouldn’t work.

so you scroll through your contact list, ready to give up and post anonymously on a forum, before you reach a name that pulls you out of your stupor.

cee, your previous roommate. the girl who had seen you sob over expired ice cream after one of those weeks at work. the one who gave you a live demonstration of her first time when the electricity went out and the two of you were bored out of your minds. nothing was considered oversharing with her.

you bite the inside of your cheek, hoping the time difference in her new city won’t kill your chances at reaching her.

“cee,” you mutter in relief as the line picks up, placing your cracked phone next to your ear, “i really need your advice.”

cee scoffs on the other end of the line, “whoa, no ‘hello’? ‘how are you’?”

“sorry, hi. i saw you post that you got promoted, and i forgot to congratulate you. seriously, congrats. you deserve it. uh, how’s the city? your girlfriend?”

there’s a soft laugh on the other end of the line before she replies, “thank you, but you’re rambling. we can catch up later. what’s the matter?”

your veins rush hot blood through your limbs, “this might be really tmi.”

“girl,” she replies, completely unimpressed, “please, spare me. spill, now.”

“okay. well, you know seonghwa, right?” an enthusiastic hum vibrates through your speaker, “and… wooyoung?”

there’s a moment of silence before you hear a quiet ‘yeah’.

she doesn’t need the backstory. she was with you the night you met wooyoung outside a house party in january. he smiled like he’d won something when you accepted his coat to put over the dress you’d insisted on wearing despite the threat of snow. she’d bumped into him in your shared living room when he was sneaking out after a late night. she’d seen you delete his number and unfollow him on everything after a pep talk.

you talk about everything from july onwards: meeting seonghwa through a mutual friend and clicking instantly. the social media stalking and the insistent calls. the cute romantic dinners and personalized bouquets. back and forth, like a ping-pong game.

cee doesn’t stop you, only interrupting for clarification when you mumble or trail off. when you’re done, there’s a moment of silence on her end. 

“so… you have your dream guy, but you’re stuck on wooyoung,” it sounds more like a question than a statement, but she schools her tone, “okay. i mean, he is practically a rebound.”

“he is not!”

silence.

“okay,” you concede, scratching the side of your face, “sorry, i don’t know why i’m getting defensive. he’s… you’d really like him.”

“he sounds like a dream,” cee offers, and you can picture her pressing her lips together as she contemplates how forward she should be. “but… maybe not a wet one?”

you feel ashamed at how easily that pulls a laugh out of you, “it’s not like i don’t want him, but it’s discouraging to be rejected so much. and like… he wants me too. he said so. just not now, i guess.”

“uh-huh,” she hesitates before continuing, “there’s something you’re not telling me, though.”

“...i told him about wooyoung.”

that seems to appease her worry, “okay, good, that’s honest. maybe that’s why he’s being careful.”

“it is,” you pause, “this is so embarrassing but… last week, i tried to initiate. we were making out, and i started grinding on him, and he was really into it until he kinda stopped me and told me he wanted to wait. that he didn’t want me to think he was like wooyoung. and that i deserved to have something special. more than a quickie.”

your ac whirrs quietly in the background as you wait for a response. you wish you could see her face right across from you, twirling a curl around her finger, and watch her brown eyes give away her every thought. desperately, you want someone to agree with you mindlessly, but you need her honesty. 

“am i supposed to root for wooyoung here, or..?”

“you’re not supposed to root at all, i need you to tell me what to do.”

her tone is a little harsher than you expect, “you need to stop self-sabotaging and stay with someone who actually gives a fuck.”

“but listen… wooyoung texted me that night. like non-stop. i was so overwhelmed with everything that i actually answered.”

cee shrieks, and you send her the screenshots as proof. she reads the texts and the transcript of the first voice message in complete silence, and you take the chance to fill the line with the most humiliating part of your story.

“he’s right. i have every single video, and the whole situation with seonghwa had me really frustrated, so i went back and watched them and i… you know?”

“oh my god. wow, this is bad. like really, really bad.”

“i know, i know,” you groan, head tipping back as you spread your body on your wooden floor, “i don’t know what to do.”

“i love you so much, but i think you need to,” you hear her fumble her words for a few moments before she sighs, “step back. break up, heal fully from that piece of shit, and move forward. delete those fucking videos. i’m so serious. the dick could not have been that good.”

you let the last statement linger and she inhales sharply.

“seriously?”

“yeah,” you mutter, nodding to yourself, “i didn’t even know i could squirt until he—”

“okay. okay, let’s not get nostalgic. delete the videos. tell seonghwa most of the truth. that you’re not fully healed and you don’t want to string him along, and… leave out the ‘i masturbated to old sex tapes with the man you hate after you blue-balled me’ part.”

the rest of the conversation is a blur as your mind wanders to the exact words you’ll say to your boyfriend’s face. you can only hope they make it past your lips, regardless of how shiny his eyes might look or how deeply he furrows his thick brows. 

seonghwa always smells like jasmine and something softer, a comforting scent that always lingers on his clothes. it surrounds you like an embrace as you step into the living room of his apartment, one tiny lamp in the corner of the room giving you just enough light to guide you into the space. 

“you okay?” seonghwa asks too sweetly, his eyes studying your features. the pad of his thumb swipes gently across your cheek to get your attention, mimicking the motion of wiping away a tear that isn't there. not yet, anyway. “talk to me.”

you inhale sharply at the kindness of his touch, the warmth you didn’t deserve. “sorry, i probably scared you coming by so late, but… it’s bad, seonghwa.”

he nods, never one to invalidate your words. the clock ticking behind you calls his attention: 2am. not a likely time for him to be up. but with the sight of your frown, he suddenly feels awake. “maybe it is. i still want to help.”

there are a few moments of hesitation. your mind is at war with itself, and it doesn’t help that he holds eye contact patiently, like he’s waiting for something he knows won’t arrive. but he tries, and that might be the worst part.

the words feel heavy on the tip on your tongue. you turn them over, taste the bitterness, try to swallow them and keep them buried. another swipe of his thumb right underneath your eye coaxes them out.

“we should break up,” you blurt, head tilting away from his touch.

“what?”

the small lamp flickers, the buzz filling the split second of silence, “we need to break up. this is so unfair to you. it’s really, really unfair and it’s wrong of me to keep you around for myself when i know i’m not over everything.”

his lips part with a soft interruption, “hey. slow down, you need to breathe. three deep breaths, okay?”

your eyes flutter with surprise. as if that wasn’t the response you were expecting. kindness. worry. him.

you follow his instructions without a second thought, but the expansion of your lungs feels tight, nearly uncomfortable as your heart thrums wildly in the same confined space between your ribs.

“okay,” he continues once he’s counted three inhales, “there you are. sit.”

“no, seonghwa—”

“i’m gonna get you water,” his voice drops to a near whisper, “and you’re gonna wait for me on the sofa, okay?”

“okay.”

after what feels like an eternity, he returns with a mug in his hands. it’s the mug you’d made when you went on a pottery class date, the one with your initials scrawled on the bottom. the water is cool as it passes down your throat, doing its job at soothing your nerves.

seonghwa sits beside you, keeping his hands to himself as he watches you take small sips in between breaths. he tries to appear calm, but his hand trembles slightly as he threads it through his silky hair. 

the mug clinks softly against his wooden coffee table, and you talk. you tell him most of the truth like you’d planned. you tell him how you’re overwhelmed, not fully healed from your recent past. you explain that you need time, that it’s not anything he’s done, and that you want to stay on good terms. you wonder if he thinks you only say that to keep him as an option.

he’s nodding in acknowledgment the entire time, searching your features as you run out of breath trying to get everything out at once. 

“i’m sorry, angel,” he fixes the strap of your tank top neatly over your shoulder, distracted for a second before he meets your eyes again, “i rushed you, didn’t i?”

you shake your head in firm disagreement, but he continues before you can get a word in.

“i got too excited. i overwhelmed you when i knew exactly what you were still processing. what still hurts you,” the corners of his pink lips turn down. “i thought i could help. but i should’ve given you time. i should’ve kept my feelings to myself for your sake, let us be friends a little longer. i was selfish and too quick.”

selfish.

“what the hell is your problem?” san scoffs when wooyoung stands up with so much force that the couch creaks as it shifts a few inches.

the latter holds his hand up, eyes jumping around his phone screen like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. he reloads the page once, twice, and a third time just to be sure.

the highlight with the little ‘s’ is gone.

“san, get out,” he practically commands, turning to his friend when he remains seated on the leather couch.

the larger man frowns, nose scrunching in distaste, “are you high? this is my place. i told you not to smoke before coming over, i hate the smell.”

“shit, you’re right,” wooyoung grabs his jacket off the back of the cushions, “and i’m not high, fuck you. i quit months ago.”

san pouts at the harsh words, voice tapering off, “i know. you quit because of that girl.”

“what?”

“you quit around the time you were messing around with that girl. you stopped being so antsy all the time. but you never even told me her name,” his arms spread onto the back of the couch, watching as wooyoung’s hand freezes around the doorknob.

“that’s not true.”

“okay.”

“you don’t believe me?” 

san shrugs like it doesn’t concern him in the slightest, “i know what i saw. we all do.”

the room feels smaller as wooyoung takes a few steps back into the studio apartment, “who’s we? what the hell does that mean?”

“everyone, woo. i mean, all the guys watched you freak out in real time when you got blocked or whatever.”

he can’t gulp down the defensiveness climbing into his words, “i did not get blocked.”

a fragile kind of quiet invades the room. the two men stare at each other, neither making any move to continue the conversation. it was a dead end anyway, it always was when this topic came up. the word ‘fling’ was practically banned within their friend group. 

a sharp beep interrupts the moment, and san looks up to the smoke detector on the ceiling before muttering to himself, “oh, that needs new batteries.”

wooyoung nods slowly, taking a step back, “yeah. well, i’m gonna…”

“run?” 

wooyoung nods, hand landing back on the doorknob as he adjusts his jacket under his arm. he feels like he’s waiting for permission of some kind, the cool metal under his palm doing little to battle the excessive heat his skin radiates. 

san seems to contemplate something before deciding against it, popping his neck with a smile, “sounds like you.”

“oh, fuck off. i need to make a call.”

“to who? the hiring manager at jongho’s office?”

“i’m not working in a cubicle at a company i don’t care about. it’d be bad enough to have jongho as a coworker,” wooyoung’s eyes narrow as he waves in dismissal.

the smoke detector beeps again and san glances at it momentarily, “you could use the stability. working commission forever is a little crazy.”

wooyoung raises a brow at his friend’s concern, “i do well for myself.”

“because you’re hot and the old rich ladies love younger men. but you don’t actually care about luxury coats and bags, either. you’re just afraid of being tied down to something.”

“i like fashion. i could work in fashion for a while, it’s exciting. it keeps me on my toes.”

“but you don’t love it.”

wooyoung looks off to the side, at the mirror hanging right by the entrance. his eyebrow piercing glints softly, and he adjusts it before turning the doorknob, “i don’t think you’re talking about work anymore, and i hate when you start talking in metaphors, so i’m leaving.”

“make the right call, wooyoung.”

the other side of the line is surprisingly silent when you pick up. there’s static noise, fabric ruffling momentarily, and then a soft breath.

“finally.”

the three syllables make you nauseous, and you pull your phone away from your ear, opting to set it down on your pillow. just after a thorough shower, you’re already feeling gross.

the honeyed voice continues, “i was right.”

your stomach flips. there are so many things he could be talking about. maybe he’d somehow found out what you’d done after those voice messages a little over a week ago. maybe he was reminiscing about one of the many times you cussed him out without letting him get a word in. “what?”

wooyoung huffs, eyeing his calendar, “nothing. when did you break up?”

“today,” you answer before you can help yourself. “you knew that, though.”

“mhm. how are you holding up?”

“i broke up with him,” you explain, as if that answers his question.

“i assumed. doesn’t make it any less difficult. you were content with him.”

you feel a familiar flutter deep in your chest as he uses your own words against you, a teasing lilt in his voice. “what do you want, wooyoung?”

“i can’t check up on you?”

“a bit late for that.”

he laughs, short and surprised, and you imagine the dimples hollowing his cheeks. your skin buzzes with anticipation, like he’s conditioned you to react to his voice. “ouch. i honestly am calling to hear your voice, though.”

your room starts to feel too hot, and you peel your robe off your body, throwing it to the foot of your bed before responding, “why won’t you just let this die?”

you’re baiting him. you want to hear him confirm that all those words he’d said in the heat of the moment weren’t in vain. that this was still salvageable, somehow. that it mattered.

wooyoung doesn’t know the answer to that question himself. he takes another look at his calendar before shrugging, picking at the lint on his pants, “isn’t that a mutual decision?”

“i did my part, i told you to leave me alone.”

he takes a few seconds before retorting, “you’d also tell me to slow down, all while pushing back onto me. you like to lie.”

“i’m not a liar.”

he exhales softly, “yeah? what’d you tell seonghwa?”

perhaps you answer him immediately because of the fact that he’s infinitely worse than you. anything you’ve done wrong once, he’s probably done a million times over. “that it isn’t his fault, and i need time.”

wooyoung chuckles, light and airy like you remember, “wow. what a speech. i almost believed you too.”

you grit your teeth, hating how his words make your chest rise and fall a little quicker, “it’s true.”

“partially,” he murmurs, “but it doesn’t really matter what you told him. what matters is you picked up.”

“only because i guessed that you’d keep spamming my phone if i didn’t.”

he hums, deep in his chest, “that’s a good guess.”

you lie down, turning to face the pillow where your phone is still resting. you close your eyes, pretending he’s there with you, like one of those rare nights he’d stay back and talk. you wonder if his hair is still half-bleached, if his brow ever settled down after the piercing he got, or if he’s marked his tanned skin with any new tattoos. 

he takes your silence as a cue to keep pressing, “do you remember what i told you when we last spoke?”

you don’t open your eyes, the pad of your thumb brushing idly over the waistband of your underwear, “to call you.”

“that’s what you took from our conversation? not the part where i told you i missed you?”

a grin pulls at your lips, “that’s only partially true.”

“it’s fully true, for both of us. i know you miss me too.”

it hits you right then that wooyoung is nothing like seonghwa. he always sounds sure of himself, never hesitates to call something out the way he sees it. even when he’s wrong, he has a way of convincing you otherwise. but he’s not wrong this time, not when you feel arousal pooling in your lower abdomen.

so you do as he taught you all those months ago. you allow yourself to shamelessly take, to trail your hand down without a doubt, because he hated hesitation more than anything.

“no,” you manage to keep a steady tone as you push the cotton to the side, “i don’t. i need you to stop—”

he interrupts, “i know what you need. let me come over and show you.”

you cringe internally at his interruption, but the urgency in his voice sends another thrilling wave through your body, “we’re done, wooyoung. we’ve been done for months.”

“doesn’t mean i’ve forgotten anything,” he notes, taking a deep breath, “please. please, i’ve been waiting for you.”

you squeeze your eyes a little harder, hips involuntarily twitching to meet your hand. you’re building a torturous pace, the kind he’d use when he wanted you to snap at him. as much as he liked your disgruntled reactions, he always refused to give in, wanting to take his time taking you apart.

you think back to the middle of spring, the night he kept his mouth on you for hours, unwilling to move away until you admitted that no one else compared to him. 

“are you… touching yourself?” wooyoung asks, his voice trailing into a warm laugh before it stops, like the realization hits him just as hard as the embarrassment hits you. “oh, fuck, you are.”

your heart races, stopping your movements as you straighten up on the bed. how could he possibly tell? “what are you talking about?”

“you are,” he replies decisively, not a hint of doubt in his voice, “i knew you were desperate, but this is almost sad, baby.”

“don’t call me that.”

“then deny it.”

you can’t. because you know he can probably imagine you accurately enough, and it bothers you to no end. how he always acts like he knows you, because he does. there’s a few shuffling noises on his side, and you apparently take too long to respond because he takes your silence as an affirmation.

“you didn’t come,” he says matter-of-factly, “should i help you? guide you over the phone like i used to? or is your door unlocked? can—”

“stop, wooyoung. you’re hearing things. i shouldn’t have picked up. go fuck one of your friends and stop calling.”

“don’t blame this on me. no one forced you to stuff your hand in your panties while i talked. that was all you,” his tone is sharp, his words drowning out his footsteps. he echoes his question from earlier, a little firmer this time, “is your door unlocked?”

there’s a certain sense of comfort in fucking wooyoung. you never had to shave, you could fuck him with dried drool on the side of your face after a nap. he never cared so long as he could get your lips on him, and it was nearly reassuring to see how much someone could crave you in every form. 

so when he shows up mere minutes after you hang up, you let him in. you don’t think he’ll even turn to look at the empty water bottles littered on your wooden floor or the dishes piled up impressively high in your sink, not when he’s busy getting as close to you as humanly possible. 

“hey, look at you,” he rasps, running his hand through hair that’s longer than you remember. you hug your robe a little tighter around yourself as he makes a show out of looking you up and down, asymmetrical eyes burning through you. “even prettier than i remember.”

“just do what you’re here to do, wooyoung,” you reply, not stepping back when he begins to crowd your space.

a crooked smile pulls at his lips, and he’s quick to abide. one hand settles on your waist, tugging you closer, while the other wraps around the back of your neck. 

but that’s too easy. and you’ve been too easy for much too long, so you decide against it last minute, just as he’s dipping down for a kiss. your hand covers his mouth, and you push back slightly.

“apologize.”

the one word floats in the air between you, weightless with how quietly you said it. 

wooyoung doesn’t fight it. he meets your eyes, taking a half-step back before slowly sinking to his knees. 

“i’m sorry,” he says, brown eyes still pouring into yours, “for everything.” 

he emphasizes his words by sliding his palms to the backsides of your legs, just above your knees. he moves closer, enough to rest the side of his face on the fabric that covers the top of your right thigh.

“i said things i didn’t mean,” he adds, sharp jaw dragging against cotton, “i would take everything back, if i could.”

you stare for a few moments, taking in the sight of the beautiful man groveling at your feet. his hair obscures his eyes a bit, the underside no longer blonde. you push the strands away from his forehead, using that as leverage to pull his face away, “and?”

“and i’m gonna make it up to you,” he responds hurriedly, eyelids lowering slightly as you tilt his head further back.

he’s basically saying nothing, and you know it. his apology is a string of words you want to hear, but not an acknowledgment of guilt. it makes you angrier, more determined. for what? you aren’t sure.

the look in his eyes stirs something deep in your chest, and you surprise yourself as you put your right leg further out in front of you. he looks confused for a split second before his hand leaves your left thigh to undo the small knot keeping your robe together.

“no,” you reprimand, moving his hand away, “you get my leg.”

for the first time since you’ve met him, wooyoung seems genuinely taken aback. “what?”

you don’t repeat yourself and hope your silence comes off as firm, not nervous.

he swallows, eyes flicking from your face to your exposed leg. there’s a moment of hesitation before he readjusts himself, positioning your shin right between his legs. then, he tentatively grinds up against your skin. the friction of his sweatpants against your leg burns just slightly, but you decide it’s worth it when you see his jaw clench.

his movements start off slow, but soon enough, he’s full-on humping your leg. muffled expletives drop from his full lips, chest heaving when you use the grip on his hair to pull his forehead away from your side.

“you’re fucking pathetic,” you say over his lewd noises. shameless, just like everything else about him, and the thought only spurs you on. “calling me, texting me, stalking my account. did nobody wanna fuck you? i bet they wouldn’t, after seeing this.”

you’re not even sure where all your words are coming from. they’re dropping from your lips like they’re rehearsed, with venom and confidence only he could get out of you. he chokes on a groan, hips moving like they have a mind of their own, “no— no, just you. i missed you. didn’t you miss me? fuck, our saturday nights?”

he’s smiling dazedly, so close to the edge he can practically taste it, but you yank his head away from you before letting go of his hair. “get up, wooyoung.”

you move your right leg back, enjoying the way his whole body folds towards you as you rip his pleasure away. he places his hands over his knees, leaning his weight forward as he stares up at you, “what? can you give me a second to catch my breath? i—”

“stand up,” you cut him off, stepping closer when he does as he’s told. “fuck me, and go home.”

he doesn’t need to be told twice, lips on yours in record time. it’s messy and full of unspoken frustration, but it’s yours. familiar in all the wrong ways as he strips out of his sweater. 

the walk to your room is short, and he manages to tug your robe off your body before climbing over you on the mattress. you’re bare underneath, and he hums in approval as he tugs his slacks down, “i’m trying not to finish just from seeing you again.”

“shut up,” you lean back on your elbows, giving him a disapproving stare that only serves to humor him.

he frees himself from his boxer briefs, leaning down so that he’s lining up with your entrance. you take a deep breath in sheer anticipation, and he appeases you with a slow kiss, “you’re already so wet for me. you can take it, baby.”

you relax against the mattress as he continues kissing you, two fingers spreading you open for him. he slides between your folds a few times before pressing in with a moan against your lips. 

“fuck, hold on,” he props himself up, watching as you hold your legs up for him. he screws his eyes shut, the view below him sending sparks of heat down his spine. “i’m close, from earlier.”

if anyone else were to finish prematurely with you, you would absolutely complain. but this was wooyoung, the man who would rather die than have a partner of his go around saying they were left unsatisfied.

so your legs come down, wrap around his waist, and pull until he’s buried in you to the hilt. 

wooyoung’s eyes fly open and find yours, a small laugh tumbling out of his lips, “you’re… fuck, squeezing me like crazy. relax.”

“just fuck me already,” you retort, hands traveling up his toned torso, tracing the tattoo on his ribs, “it doesn’t matter.”

his brows pinch when one of your hands pulls him closer by the base of his neck, “i’m gonna come inside if you keep—”

“then do it,” you challenge, heart leaping when he wastes no time and begins to thrust into you shallowly.

a moan of his name slips past your lips as he adjusts his angle, thrusts becoming more pointed as his mouth sucks a mark into the underside of your jaw.

“i know,” he mutters against your skin, but the words sound more like provocation than comfort, “that’s it, baby, don’t run from it.”

your bare chest meets his when he hits the spot only he’s managed to find, and your head tips back at the intensity of the feeling, “you’re so good, right there.”

“yeah? you’re so pretty, i bet he wishes he knew this body like i do.” the words get lost somewhere in the heated space between you, and wooyoung picks up his pace. he brushes his lips against your cheek when you complain, “just a little more, yeah? i need…”

he doesn’t get to finish his sentence before you’re squeezing the sides of his neck hard enough to rip a whine from his throat. he only gives two more pumps before he collapses on you, panting against your neck. 

a few moments pass before his weight comes off you, and he carefully pulls himself out. even as he’s softening, he twitches at the sight of your mixed arousals dripping out of you. 

one of his hands holds the back of your thigh up, pushing it closer to your torso, as his other hand spreads you further.

a groan rumbles in his chest as he leans down, tongue licking a broad stripe up to your clit. he glances up to gauge your reaction, smiling when you immediately cover your mouth with your palm. 

“uh-uh,” he tuts, kissing the inside of your thigh before climbing back over you. his larger hand holds your jaw as he kisses you, tongue swiping against yours. you can taste him and then yourself distinctly on his tongue, but the exchange muddles everything into one tangy mess. “see how good you taste with me? how good we taste together?”

the playful smile on his features reaches his eyes, and you’re almost convinced he isn’t aware how brutally those words made your heart twist. he pushes you up the bed when you nod in absentminded agreement, settling on his stomach with your legs thrown over his shoulders. “hurry, woo.”

“don’t rush me,” his hands pry your legs further, and when he’s satisfied, he places his strong forearm right over your waist. “i said i’d make it up to you, so i’m taking my time.”

he places a gentle kiss on your clit, the kind of action that had confused you just months earlier. it’d made you think your arrangement was much more than it ever was. even now, you couldn’t help but clench around nothing at the view. 

“such a sensitive pussy,” he mumbles to himself, blowing air right on your center before diving in. the tip of his hooked nose presses against your clit as he uses his tongue to tease your entrance. “and so pretty, too.”

after so long without stimulation, your body suddenly feels like it’s on fire, abdomen muscles tensing desperately under his gaze. he laps you up eagerly, moaning when you do, sucking on your clit rhythmically. 

he slows down when your breathing picks up, groaning at the desperate bucks of your hips.

“fuck, wooyoung, i was close,” you grumble, giving up on scooting closer to his mouth when his arm pushes you down.

he bites the plush skin of your thigh gently, meeting your gaze with a defiant glint, “i know, but it’ll feel better if i build it up.”

you shake your head in annoyance, not caring whether he’s right or not, “i don’t care. i wanna come.”

“you want to? or you need to?” he questions, slowly inching closer, until he’s close enough that you can feel his breath fan over you.

you know what he’s fishing for, the answer he’s pulled from you before. it means something completely different now, but you say it anyway. “i need you, wooyoung, please.”

“that’s it,” he praises, leaning back down to give you exactly what he knows you need. the pressure of two fingers curling right on that spot that makes your breathing tremble, his tongue brushing repetitive motions on your clit. “there’s my baby. so good for me.”

heat climbs up your back much quicker this time around, your jaw slack as you suck in quick breaths and exhale the moans you can’t suppress. your legs nearly close around his head, but he doesn’t stop, instead opting to hold his tongue out for you to use.

your hand rushes down to rest on the back of his head, pushing him impossibly closer, and he moans openly into you. the vibrations tip you over the edge as you orgasm with a force you hadn’t known before him. hot, white pleasure shoots through all of your nerves. your legs kick up, and your back arches all the way off the bed.

wooyoung continues licking stripes over your cunt as you catch your breath, enjoying the melody of his name dropping from your mouth. it takes the better half of a minute for your body to fully relax, and he rubs a soothing hand on the flesh of your ass while he waits. 

when you finally come down, you feel exhausted, body limp against the sheets beneath you.

“i got you,” he whispers, getting up to make his way to your restroom. the clean towels were still where you kept them months back, and he wets one with warm water before making his way back to you.

he cleans you up gently, cooing when he brushes over a particularly sensitive spot just to see you jolt.

you sit up when he’s done, watching closely as he tucks himself back into his boxer briefs, “are you staying?”

he looks up, “do you want me to?”

your shoulders rise and fall, “it’s up to you.”

he considers the offer for a moment. he feels your stare, the way your eyes trace over his features like you’re seeing him for the first time.

slowly, he nods, dimples deepening with purpose, “yeah, sure.”

the wooyoung you knew never stayed the night. not once. if he was drunk, he’d call a ride. he never cared how late it was. he drew a line at actually sleeping in the same bed.

so your heart soars at the change. you almost mention how easy it would be to just put a label on what was already a relationship. but you decide to talk about it in the morning, when your eyes aren’t shutting involuntarily.

now, he lies back on your pillow, holding you close as your head rests on his shoulder. and when he’s sure your breathing has evened out, he places a kiss on the crown of your head.

reaching over the bed, careful not to disturb you, he grabs your phone. it’s cracked, but the password is the same, the one he’d memorized by looking over your shoulder.

he opens your photo library, scrolling down to the hidden folder. it’s what he expected, all videos of you and him, save for a few screenshots of important passwords.

he contemplates deleting them himself. brushes the thought away. that was for you to deal with.

then, he opens the camera app, making sure to get your face in frame as he snaps a picture. the screen loads as it attempts to take a clear image in the dark. when it’s done, wooyoung checks it, and a satisfied smile carves into his features.

“cute,” he whispers to himself, catching himself staring at it for a beat too long.

from the start, it was clear how this would end. or more so, how he was going to end things. on his own accord, with his pride in tact.

yet the talk about stability and being tied down still linger in his head as he glances at your closed eyes.

but wooyoung doesn't like doing things he doesn’t need to do, and a relationship is at the top of his list of things he doesn't need. he hardly even wants one as is.

it doesn’t matter how pretty you look knocked out on his chest, breath warming his skin.

you have options anyway.

wooyoung can only choose himself.

with a quick tap of his fingers, he’s opening your messages. he scrolls a bit before his eyes land on the contact he wants. seonghwa.

it only takes four clicks to send the picture he took. he doesn’t follow up with any text, sure that it speaks for itself.

and just as easily as he walked through your door that night, wooyoung slips out.

His mother had insisted on organizing yet another party to find him a wife under the guise that he was there to make several important business deals. But when the vast majority of partygoers were young women with stars in their eyes he knew what was really going on. And of course, he was not going to stick around and socialize with subpar candidates. If he were going to do that it would be restricted to his bedroom, of course. 

Namjoon had come to that party that night, Yoongi in tow despite his protests. Namjoon was a cultured man, he liked to mingle with the members of high society from time to time. It helped him learn what was appropriate for the decade as trends (in manners, clothing, and amusement) came and went rapidly. And those who belonged to the upper class were those who set those trends. It was strategic and it helped his kind blend in as seamlessly as possible. 

And Jin was the epitome of a high-class man. 

And so, Namjoon and Yoongi befriended him. It hadn’t been hard for them, they had been around for so long that they fit right in. And Jin had merely thought he found more of the few people that could meet his high expectations - his small inner circle growing with two new additions. But of course, that friendship had started out with the purpose of using Jin for what he had. 

So in turn, he used them. 

While Jin had a pretty face, he actually was quite smart and observant. He took note of his companions' odd behavior. He never saw them during the daytime, only in the veil of the night. They had the oddest colored eyes - not quite black but a deep shade of burgundy like the embers of a smoldering fire laid within their depths. And they were cold, absolutely frigid to the touch like a corpse. It didn’t take him very long to piece together what they were, and it was only proven true when he caught the both of them feasting on lifeless corpses in his guest room. He timed everything just perfectly to discover their true nature. 

Yoongi had seemed genuinely surprised, bloody lips parted in shock as he stood as still as a statue, the limp body still collapsed in his iron grasp. 

Namjoon, on the other hand, was smiling. He too was not able to conceal his nature any longer but he wasn’t trying either. He took his time and continued to finish his meal despite the obvious living human presence in the room. 

“You two have been holding out on me,” Jin said with a disappointed tone. 

“Holding out?” Namjoon echoed before relaxing his arms and allowing the corpse to slip down to the floor, the thinnest drizzle of blood pooling onto the parquet flooring. 

Yoongi could only stare at the both of them, his eyes darting back and forth between the two other men. 

“Yes, holding out! You are immortal are you not?”

“Yes, we are, and I’m sure you’ve figured out the rest by now haven’t you?” 

“You may have been able to fool all of those other halfwits but it was painfully obvious to me, of course.”

“Of course.” Namjoon nodded while trying to suppress an amused grin. 

“I want in, I wish to join you and your kind.” 

“No,” Yoongi immediately cut in, “You don’t know what you’re asking for, this is a curse it is not something to take lightly and flirt with the notion of.” 

His tone was harsh, his face stern but there was evident pain behind his eyes. Yoongi had been forced into this life if that was what you could even call it. He couldn’t fathom someone willingly agreeing to eternal damnation and he would try his hardest to convince them otherwise. 

“Are you denying me?” Jin asked, his face contorted in utter disbelief. He was never denied anything in his twenty-eight years of life and the feeling of rejection was infuriating. 

“Yoongi, it’s his decision,” Namjoon interjected, his hand wiping the blood from his mouth leaving a streaky crimson trail behind. 

“You’re not actually considering this, are you?” Yoongi hissed.

“What is there to consider? He’s already seen us and he knows what he wants.”

“He has no idea what he wants!” 

“And why are you speaking for me? Just because you’re miserable and dissatisfied does not mean the same will be said for me!” Jin spat. “I grow tired of this human body. Every second of every day I feel myself wasting away and there is not a thing I can do about it.”

“You would throw away your humanity, your life, all in the name of vanity?” Yoongi asked in disbelief. 

“And for greed as well,” Jin laughed, “Believe me, I am many things and one of them is self-aware. I am a selfish bastard and I am perfectly fine with that. I won’t allow my looks to fade and my fortune will grow as centuries pass. This is what I desire and I refuse to concede.”

He was a businessman in every aspect. 

“It sounds like he’s made his choice, Yoongi.” Namjoon finally spoke.

“It sounds like he’s made an ignorant choice and I refuse to have any part in this,” Yoongi said, storming past the two of them and slamming the door shut with enough force that the mahogany wood cracked by the handle. 

“So, are we going to fuck about or will you give me what I want?” Jin asked, his impatience growing. 

“I consider you a good friend, Jin. I won't lie, I am pleased that you are asking this of me.” Namjoon smiled before grabbing Jin’s shoulder, “We’re all lonely children looking for a place where we belong.” 

Lonely children, that was one way to put it. Namjoon was not entirely wrong. In a world where you deserved only the best, many fell short and in the end, you were painfully alone, whether you were willing to admit it or not. 

“Before we go through with this, there are some things you should know.”

“What things?”

“You can’t go in the sun, not just yet, you’ll be far too young and far too sensitive to light. Quiet, dark, scentless places are going to be the best place to stay - your senses are going to be heightened tenfold. You must feed often in the early years, you’re going to be very hungry, bloodthirsty really so you need to stay away from large crowds of people.” 

Jin was silent for a moment, his eyes shifting from left to right and back again as he processed everything he was told. He could manage, and he could figure out how to do all of those things while maintaining his position as an heir. 

“Lastly, do not try and do this alone. In our world, there is strength in numbers as well as safety. You’ll have to stay with me and Yoongi, we will all be bound to one another as creator and creation.”

“So when you two leave…”

“You will follow.” Namjoon nodded, “We try to stay in one place for as long as we can so if it’s your family you’re worried about you’ll have plenty of time to figure something out.” 

But they weren’t coming with him. As terrible as it was, that wasn’t a great enough reason to sway his decision. He still wanted what he desired and he was willing to let his family go. So he stuck out his hand, ready to shake on the agreement. 

“I accept the conditions.” 

~~~~~~~

Most people were afraid of spiders, some of heights, and many feared drowning. But you feared something a bit more abstract and with a bit more finality. You were afraid of aging and by association, you were incredibly afraid of death. 

And that fear often leads you to do a few things. One of them was to start skincare at an absurdly young age. The other was to hermit yourself inside of your house out of fear of some horrific accident befalling you. And the other was to seek out strange and obscure places to visit before you die. It was odd that the last two coincide but they do. 

There were days when you were so frightened that you couldn’t stand the thought of leaving the comfort of your bed. And then you had days where you felt daring, if you were going to die one day would you really want to have lived your only life trapped inside of your own house? There were your good days and your bad days and they came and went like the tides.

Today was a “good” day. And by good day that meant you were on your laptop scrolling through forums trying to find a new place to visit. Living in a small town was hard, you knew everyone and every place because they were so few in number. But sometimes there were locations in between towns, or hidden spots in your own. Briar Hills is an old town, a historical town even. It’s not uncommon for places to be abandoned, concrete skeletons collapsing and being devoured by the flora.

It was finding them, buried in hundreds of posts, that was difficult. The teenagers in the town had taken to reclaiming those places, turning them into party spots in the blink of an eye. But that has changed in the past few months. Ever since the first body turned up. 

That was the thing about small towns, murder was much rarer than the action that cities see. So, when dozens of corpses begin to show up in streams and lakes and people begin to go missing without a trace - panic ensues. As well as a town-wide curfew. 

Briar Hills turned into a ghost town after dark. The streets would be empty, lit by a few lampposts spread down the street that was easily consumed by a thick, hazy fog. Every now and then the fog would be broken by police lights, red and blue shocks of color dispersing the mist as the night patrol came around the block. It looked like something out of a horror movie. 

And, if it weren’t a good day, the sight alone would be enough to keep you corralled in your room. But it was a good day and you had become stir-crazy from staying in your house for the past few weeks.

After endless scrolling there was one post in particular that caught your attention. It looked like an extravagant invitation with a satin black background and deep red embellishments. It had very little interaction and it was written in a completely different language. For something as obscure as an abandoned place in a small town you weren’t surprised that it had gone unnoticed, especially considering few people checked this forum. 

Putting the text into google translate had not been insanely helpful. The translated text was jumbled and made little sense, it was one of those languages that did not thrive when it came to longer translations. But you were interested and fairly stubborn and after extended research and decoding fragmented sentences you were left with this:

“The best bite I’ve ever had,” And following that was a set of coordinates that had been written out instead of just using their numerical counterparts. 

You were interested. 

What could that mean? Maybe it was some hole-in-the-wall restaurant, but why all the decorum? Why the translations? Who even uses coordinates anymore? The best way to get the answers you desired was to discover them for yourself. 

That’s how you ended up sneaking out of your house, dressed head to toe in dark colors, like some teenager that’s about to disappoint their parents. Except, in this case, your parents were the cops, and being grounded would equate to being detained for violating the town-wide curfew. All the more reason to not get caught. 

You started to get cold feet when you realized where the set of coordinates was leading you, your body came to a fast stop when the toes of your boots met the edge of the forest. The forest, at night, with low visibility, and predators prowling was a bad move. That just screamed a sudden and violent death, not to mention the bulk of missing persons' corpses had been found within its depths. This was a stupid idea, a bad move, but it was a good day and you were too stubborn to follow reason. You would make up for it tomorrow by hiding in your bed all day. It was an unhealthy coping mechanism, but a coping mechanism nonetheless. 

You took a deep breath, squared your shoulders, and took a step forward. There was no going back now, you had made up your mind.

The further into the forest you trekked the quieter it became. It didn’t make sense. You were getting further from society so why was it so quiet? The wind was still, not a branch or leaf trembled, and not even a cricket dared to chirp. It was like every living creature had up and left, abandoning their home. The only sound that filled the static silence was the bubbling rush of water from the river. 

You began to walk faster, your nerves urging you to get where you were going and be done with it. On top of that, your eyes were starting to play tricks on you, your brain attempting to make sense of the dark and fill in what was missing resulting in ominous shadows shifting through the trees. You were regretting your decision immensely, so you picked up the pace and began humming to yourself to fill the silence. 

If you were being honest, you really had no idea what you were supposed to be looking for. The post hadn’t listed much of anything and you weren’t sure what would be at the end of the coordinates. But, the red light glowing in the distance was a sure sign of something. It grew more intense as you neared it, the light getting stronger the closer to the ground it was. When you finally pushed through the underbrush you were met with a set of concrete stairs leading down into the ground and at the very bottom was an old metal door with a faintly pulsing red light above it. Looking down at your phone you were able to verify that you had made it to where the coordinates were marked. 

It was a bomb shelter. It was most likely one for the community back in the forties, an evacuation and safe point for those who didn’t have their own. It must have been abandoned and forgotten about after the war, left to rot there for the past eighty years. But if that light was anything to go by, it must have been reclaimed by someone. 

You carefully stepped down the stairs, applying a little weight at a time to make sure that the concrete hadn’t eroded and wouldn’t crumble beneath you. When you reached the bottom you tried the door and to your surprise, it opened with a creak. There was a long tunnel just barely lit by candles lining the walls leaving deep shadows in between them. And now you could feel the walls thumping, steadily vibrating with a muffled bass. That meant there was another chamber somewhere. 

You hesitantly traveled down the tunnel, long stretches of the floor would eventually give way to more stairs leading you deeper and deeper underground. This was a claustrophobe's worst nightmare. The more you walked the harder the walls vibrated until you finally came upon another door where the sounds became the loudest. Above the door hung a purple neon sign that read: “Blood Sugar.” 

Upon testing the door handle, you were surprised to find that it was unlocked, and once it slowly swung open your nose was assaulted with the scent of alcohol, sweat, and a coppery odor. You swiftly entered and closed the door behind you, trying your best not to bring too much attention to yourself. But it appears you would have no trouble doing so. 

The room you had stepped into was massive, the walls were tall and rounded out at the ceiling and were made completely out of metal. But it was far from a barren, abandoned bunker. The room was packed with people, some dancing, some drinking, and others wrapped around one another on the various red velvet chaises spread around the space. The music was loud and the room was lit by antique chandeliers as well as deep purple lighting casting an ominous glow over everyone. 

The bunker had been converted into a club of some sort and despite the decrepit tunnels you had slunk through to get here, it was surprisingly luxurious. You were honestly surprised the entire town hadn’t known about this place. That much was certainly true because, despite the large crowd, you could only recognize about five people you had seen before. The massive gathering was largely that of people that were not from Briar Hills. 

A set of delicate hands slithered around your waist, tugging you sharply towards the stranger behind you. A shout of surprise parted your lips as you turned around, slapping the offending limbs off of you. 

There was a tall woman facing you with a grin on her face, her bright white teeth glinting from behind her deep red lips. Her skin was so pale it was glowing with a purple hue from the lights, her long black curls creating an even sharper contrast against her skin. And you couldn’t explain why you felt the way you did, but the sight of those bright white teeth had your stomach twisting in knots. Despite her delicate appearance, every red flag was being raised in your body. The urge to run was strong. 

“Hello, sweetheart,” She crooned, “You’re new, aren’t you?” 

Something in the back of your mind demanded you lie. 

“No, I’m not. If you’ll excuse me,” You said, your voice steady and cold despite the goosebumps on the back of your neck and the rapid thump of your pulse. 

As you went to walk past her she easily stopped you with a hand on your shoulder, her face suddenly incredibly close as she pressed her nose to your hairline and took a deep breath. “Oh, you can’t lie to me, I remember every sweet little snack that comes in here.” 

What. The. Fuck.

“Look, I’m not interested in…whatever that means,” You huffed, taking a few steps back and breaking free from her steel grasp, “I’m just here for a drink.”

“Oh?” She hummed, “So am I, I’m glad we can cut to the chase.” 

“Okay?” You slowly asked before shuffling around her imposing figure, “See ya.” 

You slipped into the crowd, forcing your way through the bodies in an attempt to shake her off of your trail. Anybody else in your position would have lingered for the ethereal woman, but you couldn’t ignore that feeling in the back of your mind or that tug deep in your gut. She was dangerous, and no pretty smile or sweet words could hide it. It was in times like these that your intense fear of death became present as paranoia, warning you of all potential threats.

When you started therapy you were encouraged to slowly step out of your comfort zone, to do things that would combat your anxieties. So, on good days, you try your best to succeed with these short-term goals hoping in the long run you could live normally like every other person your age. But you often found your anxiety creeping up on you and you knew after tonight you would need the rest of the week to recover and that meant avoidance which meant hiding out in your rented duplex. 

But for now, you had to cope. 

When you broke free from the crowd you stumbled forward, a stray limb jabbing you in the back and sending you reeling onto one of the velvet chaises. To your utter embarrassment, you landed right next to a couple that had left all of their inhibitions at the door like many other patrons of the underground club. The woman was straddling the man's thighs, her arms wrapped around his shoulders as he buried his head in the crook of her neck, her long locks obscuring his face. Although you couldn’t see what he was doing it didn’t take a genius to figure out what it was as the woman’s mouth opened to let out soft moans of pleasure. 

Heat rushed up to your face as you stumbled off of the chaise and backed up from the voyeuristic lovers. Of course, you weren't innocent, but seeing something like that in person was different from shamelessly reading smut at three AM. 

A few feet away from the couple was the bar. It was surprisingly empty for a club. The man you assumed to be the bartender behind the countertop was relaxing against it, his dark eyes scanning your awkward posture. 

You swiftly approached the bar and yelled over the music, “Hi, how much is water?”

He gave you an amused chuckle before grabbing a small leather menu and sliding it over to you, “We don’t serve that here, sweetheart.” 

You stared at him in confusion before flipping open the menu. The only thing listed there were various wines all costing an exorbitant amount of money, and by that, you meant at least three months' rent and that was just for a glass, not even the bottle. 

“These prices are insane, are you kidding me?!” 

“They’re from 1889, newbie.” He smiled, a grin identical to the woman from earlier. 

“Well, this was a bust.” You groaned, the initial buzz of excitement from finding a town secret had long since faded. 

“Can I offer you some advice?” 

“Be my guest.”

“You might want to pay more attention to your surroundings, you’ve had eyes on you since you stepped foot in this place.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed as you peered over your shoulder. Sure enough, there were a few dark eyes staring back at you - but there was one pair in particular that really caught your attention. There was a man in a roped-off section of the club, a velvet curtain drawn to the side to reveal him seated on an ornate chair. He looked like a king watching over his people, and you meant that not only because of his position but because of his features as well. It was undeniable that he was the most attractive person in the room, hell, the most attractive person you had ever seen. Smooth pale skin, plush lips in a permanent pout, dark eyes, and the widest set of shoulders with a slender waist. He was a work of art. He had this look on his pretty features as if he had just tasted something bitter, and that look was directed behind you. 

“If I were you, I would get out of here. Things get crazy with fresh blood, ya know? The people here are like sharks in the water.” The bartender said, regaining your attention. “Uh oh, looks like you got one on your trail.” 

You followed his and the pretty stranger’s gaze behind you. It was her again, the woman from earlier. She was slipping through the ocean of moving bodies with ease, her gait like that of a jaguar on the prowl as she approached. You watched as her polished fingers wiped away what looked like stray lipstick from beneath her lips. 

Without thinking you darted away from the bar and past the pretty man, rushing through the first door you found which turned out to be the bathroom. Once the door fell shut you felt like you could relax for a moment. The music was muffled allowing you to think coherently for the first time since you had entered the bunker. Everything had become far too stimulating and you could feel your anxiety rising. 

You leaned against the sink, turning the water on ice cold before splashing your face so that you could shock yourself back into clarity. You allowed yourself to brace the sink and relax your body, focusing on your breathing and grounding yourself before you lost control, just the way you were taught to. 

The feeling of ice-cold fingers on your shoulders threw all of your work away. 

You yelped and flinched, your eyes flying open to see her standing behind you in the reflection of the mirror. 

“I knew you were a shy little thing, you should have just told me you wanted to do this privately.” She sighed with a sickeningly sweet smile. 

In a moment of flight, fight, or freeze your body chose for you, your legs running without you telling them to do so. You didn’t make it far, not before she grabbed hold of you and threw you up against the wall. Your head hit the tile behind you so hard you saw stars. 

“I’ve been hunting you down all night, you’ve made me build up quite the appetite. Do you know how many others I’ve had to threaten to get to you? Everyone always wants to take someone’s first bite.” 

What the fuck was she talking about? 

“While it was cute at first, we've played this game for long enough, don’t you think?”

“Let go of me!” You yelled while grabbing her wrists and trying to pry her hands off of you. To your complete and utter shock, she didn’t move an inch, it was like her bones were made of iron - immovable and inflexible. 

“Now, now, don’t go throwing a tantrum that won’t get you anywhere.” She sighed, sliding her hand up your shoulder to wrap around your throat and squeeze. 

Your throat and lungs burned as her grip slowly increased its pressure, your eyes watering as broken gasps and chokes for air gurgled past your lips. 

“There there, much better.” She whispered into your ear as she released your throat, your body going limp as you gasped for air. 

She easily gathered you up into her arms and softly tilted your head to the side, her perfectly polished nails grazing over the stretch of skin as she hummed before pressing her cherry-red lips to your throat. 

“Don’t worry, you’ll feel a slight pinch.” She joked before her jaw widened and a demonic hiss left her throat as her teeth grazed the soft flesh of your vulnerable neck. 

But before she could sink her teeth in she was harshly ripped away from you, her perfect face slammed so hard into the bathroom wall that the tiles shattered upon impact. A loud cry of pain echoed throughout the room as she pulled herself from the wall, black blood was pouring from her crooked nose and her sliced lips. 

Behind her stood the stranger from before, a miffed and frankly disgusted expression marred his stunning features. 

“What the fuck, Jin?!” She screamed, cupping her injured face. 

“She’s not a fang banger, Junghee.”

Her once flawless features froze in shock as a look of horror crawled over her face. It was the look of someone who realized that they had made a horrible mistake. 

“You’ve really fucked up this time.” He growled in irritation, a genuine growl that had your skin crawling. 

“Well, how was I supposed to know?! What is she even doing here?!”

“That’s none of your concern anymore, get the fuck out!” He yelled, ripping the bathroom door open and throwing her out of the room. 

You stayed pressed up against the wall out of pure terror. Vampires, you had walked into a fucking nest of vampires and had the closest brush with death you’ve ever had in your entire life. Your gaze remained locked on the vampire, Jin, as he calmed down; the waves of his rage slowly dissipating. In this lighting, you could finally see what you hadn’t been able to before in the dim club. Under the fluorescent lights, his eyes gleamed a vibrant, intimidating red. 

You winced in fright as he took a step in your direction, your body attempting to meld into the wall behind you. Jin raised his eyebrow in questioning, taken aback by your apprehension. It wasn’t often he had humans cowering in fear, usually, they shook from…something else. 

“Enough of that, come along human.” He snapped, grabbing you by your sleeve and easily dragging you from the room despite your protests and your heels digging into the ground. He was pulling you as if you weighed nothing. 

“Let go!” You shrieked in terror, struggling against his hold with all of your might. 

He came to a sudden halt, gripping you by your shoulder and pulling your body so close that there was barely an inch of space left between his chest and your own. 

“Don’t you think you’ve drawn enough attention to yourself tonight?” 

You peered over your shoulder, and sure enough, there were several of his kind watching the two of you from the dance floor. Their stares were curious and hungry. Unconsciously you shifted closer to him, choosing the lesser of two evils, one vampire versus many. 

“Look at that you’re smart, for a human.” He snickered before guiding you back to the curtained area you had seen him sitting in before Junghee had cornered you in the bathroom. 

“Sit, stay.” He said with a smirk as he pressed you down by your shoulder onto one of the couches before gesturing for someone to close the thick curtains. 

“Look, I just want to go home. I won’t breathe a word about what happened here or what this place is, it was a mistake coming here.” 

“A mistake indeed, but a mistake that needs correcting nonetheless,” Jin said with a distressed roll of his (impressive) shoulders. “So, tell me human, how did you find this place?” 

You sat there in silence for a moment, your face the perfect image of confusion, “Are you being serious right now?”

“I don’t recall telling a joke.”

“You - there was a post online, on a forum? Anyone could have found it if they were looking close enough, it really wasn’t that hard to find. All I had to do was translate the text and it told me where to go.”

“A…forum?” He repeated, clearly confused. 

Dear God, he was an old-ass vampire who didn't know much about technology or even the internet. He didn’t even know he had advertised the place. He was just an old man in a young man’s body. 

“You know, a forum, it’s online, it's where people who want to discuss a certain topic go to. I was looking for obscure places, abandoned buildings, and lesser-known spots in town. I found the posting for this place and it just said ‘The best bite I’ve ever had’...I didn’t know it meant literally.” You said, your nerves leading you to ramble on and on. 

Jin’s eyes pressed shut, his face contorting in anger as a hiss parted his lips, “Jimin.”

Jimin and himself were the only two vampires in their coven that knew about the club Jin hosted. Jin had been careless one night and Jimin had followed him, discovering the secret he had kept well hidden. Jin bought Jimin’s silence initially with limited access to the place, but now he was regretting every interaction he had had with the short vampire.

One of the few times Jin had found himself getting on with said vampire had led him to express his annoyance with the lack of human stock for the club. In turn, Jimin had offered to help “advertise” in exchange for unrestricted access to the club. 

Now that he had figured out how the little human had snuck her way in, he had to decide what to do with her. He could always kill her, that would be the simple answer. He could drain her dry and snap her pretty neck in an instant. But that wasn’t really his style, he typically preferred to savor his meals unlike his gorger of a “brother”, Jungkook. 

Perhaps the human could serve a purpose for him. 

“Come, human.” He beckoned with his fingers.

You remained frozen in your seat, your body still in active survival mode keeping your joints locked. 

Jin sighed, clearly miffed by your disobedience. He rose from his own seat only to cross the room and sit next to you. His long fingers gripped your chin and jerked your head up, forcing you to look at him. His hold was ice cold, the chill from his touch steadily seeping into your jaw. You felt paralyzed by his intimidating crimson gaze. His eyes flicked quickly over your features as he turned your head from side to side, taking in your every pore. 

“Not bad, for a human. Don’t feel too offended, it’s difficult to look as flawless as myself.” He said with a casual tone as if he were merely stating a fact. 

“You look pretty average to me,” You blurted out the lie, your lips moving before your brain could stop you from verbalizing. 

It was so fast you almost couldn't see it but it was there, his left eye twitched and his grip tightened forcing a slight whine of pain from you. He roughly jerked your head to the side, choosing to ignore what you said despite how much it clearly bothered him. Instead, he trained his focus on your neck, pulling the collar of your shirt down past your collarbone.

“Smooth,” He observed, his icy touch skipping over the skin of your throat, “Junghee didn’t sink her dirty fangs in you after all, that’s good.” 

Without warning he leaned down, his nose skimming over your neck as he breathed in, flooding himself with your scent. His grip tightened as you yelped and tried to jerk away from him in fear that this time you would surely die at the hands of a mythical creature, a monster in the flesh. 

You squeezed your eyes shut as you felt his plump lips brush your throat, his cool breath fanning over the skin and leaving goosebumps in its wake. His actions were reminiscent of a wine connoisseur, the way they studied the body of the wine and the aroma. He was assessing you - attempting to decide if you would make a good meal, that you were certain of. 

You jerked as you felt him bury his face further into your neck. You could feel the slight flutter of his eyelashes against your skin as a groan parted his lips. 

“Well, don’t you smell delicious?” He crooned, his tongue swiping over his lips and just barely ghosting over your throat. “I think that we can come to an agreement, does that sound nice?” 

“What,” You paused to clear your throat, “what did you have in mind?” 

“I’m glad you asked,” He said with a wink after pulling back from you, “You see, I think we could mutually benefit from one another’s company. While breaking your pretty little neck would certainly be the easiest way out of this problem, I do find you quite amusing, pet.”

Your body grew stiff as your mind conjured up the image of his strong hands severing your vertebrate in one smooth pull, your body falling limp and lifeless on the club’s floor. Your greatest fear was death and Jin was death incarnate. He could very easily take your life if he so desired and he was making that very clear. He cared not whether you lived or died but only if your presence benefitted him in some manner. Your life was inconsequential. 

“Very few people meet my standards but you are very lucky, I have a rather refined palette and it just so happens you meet said standards. So, I would like to propose a business arrangement. You will be my sole donor and keep those pretty lips sealed about everything you have witnessed tonight and in turn, you get to keep your life.”

“And if I don’t agree?” You dared to ask. 

A sneer marred his perfect face, his fingers gripping your chin and forcing you to look at him in his blood-red eyes. 

“Then your pathetic human life ends right here, right now.” He said, his hand slipping down your jaw to loosely wrap around your throat. He could feel your pulse steadily thumping against his hand causing his mouth to involuntarily pool with saliva, hunger twisting in his gut. 

Your breath hitched, fear slicing down your spine like a violent chill. You knew you only had one choice, and that was to appease the monster that sat beside you because he was far less frightening than the unknown, than the certain embrace of death that waited at every corner. 

When fear rules your life, you have no choice. There is only ever one option. 

“I agree,” Your voice trembled as you swallowed uncomfortably under his grasp. “I’ll be your donor.” 

“Splendid.” He said with a grin, his canines glinting under the light. 

“Can I…can I please go home now?” You asked, clasping your trembling hands together to try and still their shaking. 

“No, there are a few more fine details we have to iron out,” He said, his index finger lightly tapping your chin, “Firstly, I expect you to maintain a healthy lifestyle and that means no alcohol within a twenty-four hour period before we meet and certainly no smoking it’s a dirty and disgusting habit.”

You nodded slowly, trying your best to avoid looking into his piercing red gaze. 

“Try your best to have a healthy diet as well, the junk you humans gorge yourselves on taints your flavor, it’s unbearably sweet.” He said with a wrinkle of his nose in disgust. “I will compensate you for your efforts and your donations, once I’ve deemed you satisfactory, of course,” 

“I think that about covers it. And when I call upon you I expect your presence. Do we understand one another?” He asked with a tilt of his head. 

Your throat was far too tight, your eyes burning with unshed tears as you weakly nodded in agreement. 

“Very good,” He hummed before leaning back into the couch and soundly tapping the top of his thigh, “come, pet.” 

You sat still, your body frozen in shock as you were unsure if you had heard him correctly. 

“Well?” He raised his eyebrow expectantly. 

“I…I don’t think that, um-”

“Are you going to keep babbling and test my patience, or are you going to be a good little pet and do as I say?” He interjected and immediately you remembered the phantom feeling of his hand on your throat, the light grip that screamed threat. 

You awkwardly shuffled on your knees across the couch and hesitantly settled your legs on either side of him, hovering so that your weight did not rest on his lap. In response, he firmly gripped your hips and harshly pulled you down onto him, pressing you directly against him in a way that sent heat rushing beneath your skin despite the evident chill that emanated from his body. 

You could see his fangs even clearer now. They had become longer than before, the sharpened points dragging along the flushed skin of his plump lower lip. You were terrified by the thought of them piercing your thin flesh. What if they punctured your jugular and you bled out to death? What if he had just been playing with his food this entire time, instilling a false hope of survival in you just to watch with murderous glee as you realized you were meant to die the entire time as he drained the life out of you? 

And then what? The void of inevitable nothingness? The abyss of the afterlife? You were spiraling now, you could feel it in the way your chest constricted and your breaths came out in panicked, short huffs. 

A soft, wet, stroke against your throat pulled you from your frightening thoughts. As your vision cleared you realized that he had settled back into the juncture of your neck and shoulder, his tongue gently and steadily lapping at your skin. Despite your embarrassment, you could feel your body slowly relaxing and melting against him. It felt like you were being shot up with a tranquilizer, your muscles going weak from his ministrations as the skin of your neck went numb.  

And within seconds his fangs were sinking through your flesh, easy and smooth. You jolted in response, a cry of pain leaving you as your fingers curled into the silk of his shirt while your body subconsciously leaned away, trying to escape the sudden painful stimulus. 

In response, you could feel Jin’s arms tighten around your back and harshly pull you flat against his chest with an animalistic growl, one that immediately paralyzed you with fear. 

The vampire beneath you was enraptured, completely lost in the feeding frenzy as rivers of blood flowed freely past his plump lips and poured down his throat. Your scent had been seductive, but your taste? It was better than any wine, better than ambrosia and nectar, it was addictive. So addictive he was unsure if he would be able to stop but at the same time aware he could not kill you because the rest of his immortal existence would be utter hell if he were unable to get another hit. 

Kim Seokjin had a refined palette and high standards and few people met his expectations. But you? You were complete and utter perfection. And he deserved perfection. 

His grip was too hard, unrelenting, crushing you against him. You wouldn’t be surprised if he cracked your spine by accident. It was like he was afraid to release you, afraid that there was a chance you would be able to escape him, the apex predator. 

But these thoughts were all uselessly whimpered in the back of your mind because the rest of your brain was completely flooded with euphoria. You had never felt so warm and tingly despite his cool hands in your entire life. It was almost like an out-of-body experience, the only thing keeping you grounded in existence was his tight hold. And there were other feelings as well, feelings you would have been ashamed of had your inhibitions not completely disappeared. Feelings that had your thighs clenching on either side of his waist, your heart beating pathetically fast, your pupils dilating, and your limp body helplessly rocking against him with his hands guiding and encouraging you. 

This was completely out of character for you. You didn’t climb into random men's laps and writhe against them eagerly like you were in heat. That had never been who you were, but the position you were in now clearly said otherwise. 

You were growing lightheaded, not only from arousal and euphoria but from blood loss as well. You weakly pushed at his chest, your innate desire to survive prevailing over the pleasure that had relaxed your muscles. 

“Jin, please,” You whimpered, struggling to speak. 

The vampire didn’t respond or relent, his arms still wrapped around you like a vice. In desperation you wound your arms around his neck, your fingers tangling into his hair and tugging at the roots. The pull certainly took him off guard, his fangs sliding free from your throat and his perfect lips parting to release a startled moan. 

His eyes were half-lidded but his red irises still burned brightly under the dim lighting, a perfect match for the blood that stained his lips and chin. He said nothing at that moment and from what very little you knew about him you could conclude that it was not often that he was at a loss for words. 

Warmth trickled down your neck, rivulets of blood still flowing freely now without him there to catch them and that seemed to snap him back to attention. He slowly leaned forward, maintaining eye contact with you until he was level with your throat once more, his tongue darting out to lick up the trails of blood before tracing over the puncture wounds he had left behind. 

Your hold on his shoulders did nothing to dissuade him, in fact, he quite enjoyed your weak attempts to keep him at an arm's length. Humans were so fragile, so weak, and he enjoyed that.  

“Relax,” He breathed, “We have a deal, remember? It would be a waste to drain you dry in one night.”

“And how do I know you don’t just like to play with your food?” You asked. 

“You don’t. You’ll just have to take my word for it, pet.” He smirked, tapping your chin with his finger. 

“You’re not going to kill me?”

“Let’s just say your sample was more than satisfactory, I have no reason to take back my word just yet.”

Yet. And yet, he was actually letting you go. 

“I’ll see to it that you make it home safely,” He began. But before he could finish speaking you were eagerly sliding off of his lap. 

His hands caught your waist easily, one holding you steady and the other firmly grasping your chin between his thumb and forefinger forcing you to look him in his eyes. 

“Remember, I call, you answer. As long as you abide by my rules we won’t have a problem.”

You nodded quickly, his words barely registering in your brain as your body took control. You would agree to anything that would keep you alive.

“Don’t disappoint me.” 

~~~~~~

Days had passed since that night at Blood Sugar, days where Jin had not tried to contact you, days that you spent isolated in your house - a wave of agoraphobia so strong that the thought of passing a threshold frightened you to the bone which was beyond ironic considering your situation. But those days also led to you trying to convince yourself it had all been a bad dream. 

If the encounter at Blood Sugar had in fact been real, you had little to show for it. The skin of your throat was smooth and untouched despite the fangs that you were certain had torn through it like paper. The only parting gift you had was the urge to sleep for days, a splitting headache, and a touch of soreness around your ribs where you were sure his arms had once restrained you. 

Pretending it hadn’t happened was easier on your mind. Your whole world had been turned upside down and the monsters you once thought to be the stuff of stories had been pulled from the shadows and abruptly thrust into the light. It was easier to pretend it was a dream. But you couldn’t shake those blood-red eyes from your memories nor the show of pure strength that had been demonstrated against Junghee - her once perfect face that was so easily disfigured by the elder vampire. 

You were afraid of death and the realization that it actually lurked at every eerie corner and you had sat in its lap like a contented house cat was enough to fry the connections in your brain. 

And you could only pretend for so long. You could only ignore reality for so long. 

It had been three weeks since you had seen him when he finally confirmed his existence in the form of a simple text. 

“Hungry, you know where to find me.” 

And that made your blood run cold. It was time to finally face reality, you had actually made a deal with a vampire and now he was cashing in on your promise. It was donate or die. 

And in an absolute panic, you made a terrible decision. You placed your phone face down and retreated beneath your blankets like a small child hiding from the boogeyman. 

Your phone did not cease to remind you that you had made a bad decision. The messages started sporadically - spread out throughout the hour. But Jin’s impatience grew as did the texts and calls. The eerie silence of your bedroom filled with a continuous buzzing as your phone continued to vibrate until you couldn’t take it anymore and without looking at a single message you shut down your phone. But that only brought temporary relief. 

You were begrudgingly pulled from the safety of your bed that day for an inspection your landlord had scheduled two days prior. There was no getting out of it and in your mind, it was a welcome distraction from the spiraling anxiety you felt when you thought about your powered-down phone. 

You had no way of knowing that their presence would only worsen the problem that you had created. 

You were generally a quiet person that kept to yourself around strangers, especially strangers that had a say in whether you continued living in your home or not. You practically stuck yourself to the walls as she inspected your home, and while your landlord was not necessarily a mean woman she wasn’t very chatty. You two got along in those regards. 

You were able to breathe when she gave you an awkward, tight-lipped smile, waved, and closed the door behind her. 

As soon as she was gone you rushed back into your bedroom and just barely pulled your curtains aside to peer out your window and watch her retreat. But when you did look out that window you felt your blood run cold. She was still there, standing on the walkway, and directly in front of her was him. It was twilight out, the sun still desperately trying to cling to a purple and ochre colored sky. It was safe for him to be out. He was giving her a charming smile, one that anyone would fall over at the sight of. You could see him laugh and then say a few words but you were too far away to make out what they were. And then to your utmost horror, she walked away and he made his way up the front steps. 

You were frozen, your muscles tense, and refused to move. You held your breath as you listened. There was no way that he could get in, you hadn’t given him permission. But all of your hope washed out of you when you heard the front door’s knob turn and the soft click of it leaving the frame. There were a few light steps and then the door shut once more. 

He was inside the house. 

You felt absolutely helpless as all you could do was wait for him to find you. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, you were cornered. 

It was only a matter of seconds before he did find you, a stern and angry expression clear on his face as he rounded the banister and the stairs and stood right outside the door frame of your room. His eyes were different now, they weren’t the vibrant red that you remembered. They were a deep burgundy now, almost black as they stared back at you with intensity. You couldn’t even make out the difference between his pupils and his irises. It was a bottomless, dark gaze. 

“How did you get in?” You asked, the words rushing out of you to your own surprise. 

One of his dark brows quirked, whether it was in surprise or irritation you did not know. 

“Elaine let me in,” He said with a stomach-turning grin. 

Your landlord. She technically owned the house, she could let him in even if you didn’t invite him. 

“I thought I made myself clear when we spoke, did I not?” He asked rhetorically, “I call, you answer, I feed, you keep your life. What part of that did your little human brain not comprehend?” 

“You called me?”

“Don’t play dumb with me.”

“My phone died-”

“Don’t make me repeat myself!” He snapped, his voice shockingly loud and incomposed. 

You flinched back against the wall as he finally entered your room only to stop dead in his tracks not more than five feet away. His eyes widened, his nostrils flared, and his fangs descended on instinct. 

The two of you stood there, both staring at each other and refusing to move, waiting for the other to act first. 

Jin was the one to break the stalemate. 

“You’re on your period.” 

Your eyes widened in embarrassment, warmth radiating beneath your skin in response. He could smell it, that was the only explanation and that was a mortifying thought that had you pressing your thighs together, tight and closed. 

He looked shaken, frazzled, and incredibly unlike himself. His rage was forgotten, his hunger controlling him. He was gripping the footboard of your bed, the skin of his knuckles stretched taut as he held onto it like he was keeping himself grounded. 

“I want a taste,” He said, staring you down without a single blink. 

It took you a moment to comprehend what he had just said, and as soon as you connected the dots you were anchoring yourself to the wall and vehemently shaking your head. 

“No, no way!” 

“Yes,”

“No! That’s messy and gross and I never agreed to do anything like that with you!

“I’m hungry,” He hissed, “And you expect me to just leave when you smell like fucking heaven?”

“Yes, because everything about this is crazy! I don’t know you, I never wanted to find you and now I’m stuck with you until you ultimately decide to kill me so I’m sorry that you’re hungry but it’s not even my problem in the first place!” 

That was the one upside to being on your period, the influx of hormones allowed you to become confrontational. 

“I’ll pay you double for a feed directly from the source,” He said with gritted teeth. 

Jin was never one to bargain, usually he would leave a deal with far more than the other party. But this was something he refused to pass up. Vampires, very often, had little to no inhibitions especially when it came to sex. Sex was often a co-occurrence with feeding, and menstruation was the epitome of that. He didn’t expect a pathetic little human like you to understand. You were fettered by mortal concepts that had forced you to believe you were to be a social pariah during that time, that it was “gross,” as you had said. Little did you know you were considered a delicacy in his world, ripe for the taking. And he knew how delicious you were when he fed from the vein, his mouth watered at the thought of what it would be like now. 

Your silence to his proposition only frustrated him even more. 

“Do you know how many people would die to be in your position right now? I’ve had women beg to be on their knees for me and I’m offering to pay you to do the opposite.”

You were sure that he was telling the truth because he certainly was the most breathtaking man you had ever seen in your entire life. But what confused you was why he didn’t just throw you down and do as he pleased. He was bigger than you, stronger than you, and far faster than you. If he wanted it as badly as he claimed, why was he bargaining with you? You could only assume it was the lingering effects of the era he had lived in. While he was an asshole, perhaps he took no joy in forcing himself on a woman in that manner.

And then there was the money. Rent wasn’t cheap, that was for sure. And not many people could say that they were paid to be pleasured. It wasn’t a terrible offer, and the last thing you wanted to do was displease a vampire that could kill you and had threatened to do so before.

Shit. 

“You wont hurt me?” You asked, your voice wavered. 

“Quite the opposite,” He smirked. He knew that he had won. 

A gasp of surprise parted your lips as he closed the distance between you, moving so fast that a gust of wind whipped up ruffling your hair and sending loose pages of paper tumbling from your desk. Your heart stuttered in fright, every minute you spent with him only served as a reminder of how dangerous he was. This arrangement you had with him was dangerous, you were toeing the line between life and death and that thought made your stomach turn in unease. He was a vampire, an apex predator, a creature that you had stopped believing in long ago, but also the undead embodiment of death. The very thing you feared the most. All it would take is one moment of frenzy, a lack of control and you would be left to bleed out in your sheets with no one to come and find your remains for weeks to pass. 

You didn’t want to die, but you knew he wouldn’t let you live. 

The touch of his cold fingers to your waist brought you back to him as he tugged you toward your bed, pressing you down onto the sheets before moving over you like an animal on the hunt. His eyes were pitch black, the veins beneath them prominent, and his fangs dangerously grazed his plump lips. He looked like a fallen angel, like Lucifer himself, the most beautiful outcast of them all. 

An involuntary cry of fright left you as he moved impossibly fast once more, his face now level with the side of your head, the tip of his nose just barely brushing over your cheek as he chuckled. Even his breath was frigid. 

“You’re nervous,” He hummed in delight, “Careful now, we wouldn’t want your heart to stop, would we?” 

He could feel the violent, rapid thumps of your heart where his chest was pressed against yours. It had been a long time since he had had a human like this, oftentimes he found it too annoying. They were fragile creatures and having to restrain himself was rather inconvenient, but he preferred his partners to be responsive when he had his way with them, unlike some of his kind who couldn’t care either way. Was it still necrophilia if both parties were technically dead? 

And while your heart was making itself known, you could feel nothing in response. His heart didn’t beat like yours, it had gone silent long ago and that thought only reminded you of just how wrong this entire thing was. He was dead, but you couldn’t wrap your mind around how he also seemed so very alive and while that scared you deeply, it also ignited a disturbing thought within you. But that thought was quickly halted when he noticed your lack of attention on him. 

He hated that your attention wasn’t on him. 

An annoyed growl rumbled in his throat as he moved back, quickly going down the length of your body and ripping your shorts down your legs, exposing you to the cold air. 

“Jin wait-” It felt as if all the air was sucked out of your lungs as he ignored you, plunging his face directly in between your thighs. 

He was unlike any of the partners you had had before. He did not take his time even though he evidently had plenty of it. He didn’t warm you up with gentle words, pleasing touches, or lingering kisses. Instead, he was absolutely ravenous. It was just like he said, he was hungry. But you, on the other hand, had not been prepared in the slightest for how sensitive you would be. 

You could only whine in discomfort as you tried to clench your thighs closed, one hand coming down to push at his shoulder. Your actions were completely useless, no matter how much force you could use it was like pushing against a concrete wall - he was immovable. 

You could feel him growl in annoyance which only sent a shock throughout your body, your hips twitching and your shoulder blades digging into the mattress. His fingers were harshly pressing against your thighs, forcing them open wider and hooking your legs over his shoulders so that he could get impossibly closer to you. 

“Too - too much!” You barely managed to get the words out, your body jolting from sharp bursts of pleasure. 

“Be a good pet and take it for me,” He crooned, parting from you for a mere moment to look up at you - his bright crimson eyes cutting through the darkness that had steadily filled the room. “I thought you said you would do anything to keep your life?”

You couldn’t explain the feeling that his words gave you, but the shame that lingered was recognizable. Shame that enduring pleasure to ensure your survival was an addictive cocktail of emotions. 

You couldn’t even form a response in time before he returned back to his feeding, his soft lips and firm tongue caressing you in a way that made you realize he was actively trying to make you feel good instead of solely focusing on gorging himself on your blood. You had no way of knowing that that just made the feed all the more enjoyable, the rush of hormones in your body only adding to the flavor. It was a flavor he already knew he was addicted to and while he was reluctant to admit it to himself, it was a flavor he could not live without. 

And with each feed there were more problems to come. While he knew his blood, saliva, and venom were incredibly intoxicating to your weakened human state - he underestimated the effect you would have on him. With all of the hormones his bite coaxed out of you there was one pesky one that affected him: oxytocin. It was a bonding hormone, one that fostered a relationship between feeder and donator which was why so many vampires rarely fed from the same human more than once typically preferring to drain the body dry and dump it anywhere to rot. 

He was willingly making himself vulnerable to you all in order to get another fix, another hit of your blood. And the worst part was, he didn’t mind. 

“Jin!” You cried. 

He was disgusted with himself, disgusted by the way his body shuddered and was aflame with tingles at the mere moan of his name rolling off of your lips. It was nothing special, countless others had done it before you, but he couldn’t understand why it was you. Why were you special? 

He could blame it on the damn hormone bond all he wanted, but this was only the second feed which meant, to his utmost horror, it was him. His interest in you, a human, was more than just superficial desire. 

Oh, how far he had fallen. 

He smelled your salty tears and he could even see the gleam of them as they rolled down the curves of your cheeks as your hips pitched forward, broken whimpers wracking your body that only served to drive him crazier. He could drown in you and it still wouldn’t be enough. 

And as soon as all of the tension within you snapped he was digging his fangs into the meat of your thigh, fresh, hot blood rushing over his tongue and down his throat. The blend was intoxicating for not only him but for you as well - the bite secreting venom that doubled the effects of all of his efforts that lit your brain and body on fire. You could become addicted to him just as easily as he was to you because that feeling, that feeling was indescribable and would never be able to be replicated by anyone but him. Just as he was chasing you for his fix, you could easily see yourself doing the same. 

When you came too, you were startled by the gentle touch of his tongue to the puncture wounds on your thigh. It soothed over the cuts rhythmically, urging the skin to sew itself back together again. And while he worked, he stared. Bright, crimson red eyes were trained on you. His gaze dark and dangerous. Your body that had once been limp and relaxed immediately tensed once more. The knowledge that a predator was nestled into your lap was enough to reignite fear in your chest. You feared that the slightest twitch or breath would signal for him to lunge again, but this time the outcome would not be so pleasurable for you. 

But Jin was a man of his word. You didn’t die that night and your bank account was fed in due course. 

This continued for the next six days. Whereas before it seemed like the vampire was able to abstain from feeding for as long as he wished, he had now become ensnared by a ravenous, bottomless hunger. And that was all the more frightening. But what was even more frightening was the way he began to change. 

He was still rude, cold, and dominating. But he had become ever present. His closeness could be described as suffocating. The only solitude you could find was in the daylight, but the minute the sun began to set he was back and hungrier than before. And after the…feeding, he would linger. He would touch you more often, his words still snarky but lacking their usual bite. It was like he was becoming comfortable around you. He was still insufferable, but undeniably comfortable. 

It was that comfortability that encouraged you to entertain that dark thought you had tried to smother before. Your ever present fear of death could easily be solved, the answer to your problem mere inches away from you. You understood the gravity of the situation, what it would mean to become something like him. But you couldn’t deny the truth that you could live with ending the lives of others if it meant you could sustain your own. You didn’t want to die, you couldn’t fathom dying, and you had an undead man at your disposal. If he was willing. 

It was after your seventh session together that you decided to finally ask him. His cherry red lips were pressed against your throat, swallowing every last drop of blood that slid down your skin. Your neck stung and your body thrummed with ecstasy, your fingers cupping the back of his head on reflex - moving without your permission. 

“Jin?” You asked. 

He hummed in response, visibly enthralled by the feed but letting you know he was listening anyway. 

“I want to be like you,” You whispered. 

A slick pop echoed in the room, his fangs pulled from your neck and retracted into his mouth, disappearing from sight. His eyes narrowed, his dark brows drawing together in confusion and distaste. 

“No,” He simply said, retreating to the foot of your bed. 

“Why not?” 

“Because you would be useless to me, that’s why. What good is a donor that’s dead?” He scoffed. 

You couldn’t deny the ache you felt in your chest, the sting that “useless” struck against your heart. 

“You’re…you’re going to grow tired of me eventually. I’ll get old, I won’t taste as good anymore. Then, I’ll be useless.”

“Oh, I plan to savor every last drop that you can offer. I won’t let you go to waste like that, you are mine after all.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean? You’ll just kill me before I go bad? Put me out of my misery before I can rot? I’m a fucking human being not a piece of meat!” You yelled, angrily standing up from your bed. 

You expected him to become enraged, to become violent. But if anything he was deathly calm, still, and silent. 

“Wouldn’t that be a kindness,” he stood from the bed, now towering over you, “To not have to grow older, to be in pain? To just stop here where you’re perfect, when you’re young and beautiful?” He said with a soft caress down your cheek. 

“But you could give me what I want,” You pleaded, “You would never have to see me again, I could go far away and I wouldn’t be your problem anymore.”

A frown pulled at his lips, frustration falling over his features, “It’s not as simple as that. You would be bound to me, there are rules about these things.” 

“Rules? Like laws, is there someone in charge of you?”

“Don’t bring that Twilight bullshit into this,” He hissed, running his hands through his hair in what appeared to be distress. 

“Then I don’t understand, why can’t you do this for me? I’ve done everything you’ve asked! I’ve given you everything you wanted so that I could stay alive! Why can’t you understand that I don’t want to die!”

“Because you don’t understand what you’re asking for!” He snapped. 

In that moment, he was brought back to that fateful day all those years ago. Yoongi had warned him, he had tried to stop him and he hadn’t listened. And now, he was being faced with a painful reminder of his naivety and arrogance when he stared back at you. Jin never regretted becoming a vampire. He never regretted his inability to grow old or the only way he was able to satiate his hunger. He enjoyed it. But if there was anything he didn’t enjoy, it was being under the control of someone else. 

“We would be connected for the rest of eternity. Anything I ask of you, you have to do. You can’t deny me even if you tried. And even if you ran, you would eventually come back whether you wanted to or not. I would be your sire, your creator, you couldn’t hurt me no matter how badly you want to. We would be stuck together, do you understand?” 

If there was anything he was afraid of, which he would never admit to, it would be having to rely on someone like that. It would be loving you, obsessively loving you like he felt the desire to creep over him. While he refused to admit it, all of those feeds had done their toll. He could feel the tugs of a weak bond forming between you - begging to be strengthened by a little of his own blood and a swift death. If you stayed human, he could save you from the fate he suffered through. And if he killed you, then no one else could have you. It was insane, but to him it was incredibly logical. 

You had been quiet for quite some time, your face pensive before you finally spoke. 

“That doesn’t sound all that different from our current arrangement.” 

“Ugh, you’re insufferable!” He yelled, grabbing the closest thing to him and flinging it across the room in a show of strength and anger. So this was what Yoongi felt like. 

“You’ve exhausted your usefulness to me,” He spat in rage, “Good luck defending yourself on your own.” 

And just like that, he was gone. The only remainder of his presence was the broken chair that lay in pieces on the ground and the huge dent in the plaster from where it had hit. 

You couldn’t stop the sudden wave of tears that poured down your face. That had been your only way to cheat death, and he wouldn’t give it to you after you had given him every piece of yourself that he had asked for. 

The silence was loud, your sniffles and your pounding heart painfully apparent. But what was even more apparent, was the sense of paranoia steadily creeping over you. 

What did you have to defend yourself from now that he was gone? 

~~~~~~~

Jin was starving. 

Even he was not so thick-headed that he couldn’t see what he was doing. He was throwing a temper tantrum. 

He had left you for a month now in what was supposed to be a break that would teach you a lesson. You weren’t allowed to make demands from him, you weren’t the one in control. But if there was anything he had learned from his pathetic plan, it was that you were very much in control. 

You had managed to burrow your way into his unwilling, stone cold heart. A feat that no one in his human and vampiric life had managed to do. The very thought itself made his stomach turn. He had never had to depend on anyone else, he never wanted commitment in that sense. Yet here he was yearning for you, a pathetic little hermit. His pathetic little hermit. 

He let out an audible groan, collapsing back against one of the velvet couches in the club. The blue and red lights flashed over his face, his stomach rumbled in pain. He had thought it would only take a week for you to break, just a few days before you apologized and begged for him to come back. But he had greatly underestimated you. 

It had been a month and he hadn’t fed. Everyone else paled in comparison, their blood sitting on his tongue like spoiled milk; he couldn’t even manage to swallow a drop. And that was completely his fault. This was why he was warned not to keep feeding from the same source. You were bonded now and he was suffering because of it. 

He had never felt so backed into a corner before. And the fact that it was all because of a human was just salt in the wound. He thought that time would sever the bond but in reality, distance had just made it grow stronger. 

Even now he was certain that he could smell your scent sifting through the hazy air, it’s tendrils beckoning him to come find you. 

It was the prick of his fangs against his lip and the sudden pool of saliva flooding his mouth that made him realize it was anything but a fantasy. You were there. A wave of satisfaction rolled over him, you had broken first in a stalemate that you were unaware of. He had won. But any excitement he felt about his win was quickly thwarted when he was reminded of the present danger. You, who smelled so heavenly, had once more crawled into a nest of vampires. 

He quickly lurched to his feet, cutting through the crowds of vampires and humans alike in order to find you. You were in the most dangerous spot in Briar Hills and he could not protect you. His abstinence had greatly weakened him, he could only hope that no one else would be aware of that. He was the eldest there and he was in charge, that should be enough to keep everyone else away from you. 

Well, all except one. 

You hadn’t even seen her coming, her or her “friends.” You had just barely managed to step foot inside the bunker before she was ripping you back outside, moving so quickly that your head was spinning and your neck burned with whiplash. 

You moaned in pain, one hand cradling the back of your neck while the other dug into the damp earth in an attempt to ground yourself from the violent pounding that vibrated all throughout your head. At first you were utterly dumbstruck, confused as to what exactly happened. But the swift kick of a pointy shoe to your ribs rolled you onto your back and allowed you to be faced with four pairs of glowing red eyes. 

The pain in your head was quickly overshadowed by the hot shooting pain in your ribs. Your spinning head could just barely register the loud crack that had sounded when you were kicked. What looked to be an effortless, swift strike from her was enough to break your ribs. 

“Hello sweetheart,” A familiar, sickeningly sweet voice crooned. 

It was her, that vampire from a month ago. The one that Jin had saved you from. 

Cold shocks ran through your body as you panted, grabbing your side as you tried to scoot away. 

“Ah, ah, ah,” She teased, grabbing you by your ankle and roughly pulling you back. Another sickening pop echoed through the night as a violent scream tore its way free from your throat. 

“Now, I’m not letting you get away from me so easily this time. You really pissed me off, and now you’re going to give me what I want.” 

You had no time to react and nowhere to run to. She and her friends descended on you like a pack of hungry vultures. They ripped at clothing and jostled you around like a toy they didn’t want to share. And all four of them dug into you. With Jin, there had been little to no pain. But this was the worst pain of your life. You could feel teeth digging into you, ruthlessly cutting through your flesh and ripping it apart. Hot, thick blood was pouring out of your wounds, drenching your skin and your clothes in an instant. 

There was nothing you could do but scream, cry, and shake. 

You were helpless and soon you were going to die. You had no doubt that they had every intention to bleed you dry. You felt like you were on the verge of passing out. Your greatest fear was suddenly becoming a reality and there was absolutely nothing that you could do about it. Death spared no one, especially you. 

And for a moment you thought that death really had come for you because the pain was suddenly wrenched away. 

You laid there, groaning in pain as you listened to what was happening. You could hear her low, sultry voice, the sounds of hits landing, and a deep, rumbling growl that shook you to your very core. It wasn’t death, but it was a close second. Jin had found you. 

You forced yourself to open your eyes and look, you struggled to turn your head but when you did your heart dropped. Half of her group collapsed, in various states of injury. But Jin was the worst. He was barely managing to stand and he looked so weak. His cheeks were gaunt compared to the last time you had seen him, the veins beneath his eyes prominent and exposed. But worse of all, he was coated in his own blood. It stuck to him like an oil spill, pouring from wounds that were trying to heal themselves albeit very slowly. He wasn’t going to make it out of this; he was too hurt, too weak, too hungry, and outnumbered. 

“I knew it,” Junghee giggled, her voice pitchy with murderous glee. “I could smell you all over her, you bonded with her!” 

Jin said nothing. He wobbled, his chest rose and fell rapidly with angered breaths. 

“Oh, how far you’ve fallen, Jin,” She sneered, “So high and mighty and look at you now. You’re no better than the rest of us - in fact you’re weaker than us! I’m so sick and tired of living under you and your rules, I think it’s time someone replaces that coven of yours. It’s time for a new jurisdiction.” 

“I’ll give you one chance to get on your knees and beg for forgiveness,” He said with a deathly calm voice. 

“I’m going to rip you apart and burn the pieces. And when I’m finished with you, I’m going to drain your little pet dry.” She said with a cocky grin. 

Jin hummed in response, his head slightly tilting back as he thought. His eyes seemed to glow even more intensely in the dark, a ring of light shining around his irises as he spoke. 

“That’s an interesting idea. Tear each other apart.” 

You stared in shock as they immediately obeyed his command. It was mind-control, he could compel individuals to do his bidding. How many times had he used it on you and you had gone on unaware of it? 

All four of them turned on one another, rushing at each other with abandon. It looked like they were marionettes, like someone else was controlling their limbs and forcing them to do as he commanded. You watched as the four of them attacked each other, clawing at their friends and prying their limbs from their bodies. The sounds were horrific. You could hear them screaming, crying, gurgling, and begging for it to end as they tortured one another. Black blood sprayed and stained their hands and faces as they ripped each other apart limb by limb. 

Your stomach rolled at the sight, your wounds flashed hot with pain, and your ribs and ankle throbbed in sympathy as they violently mutilated each other until they couldn’t reach one another anymore - their limbs dismembered and useless. 

You choked down the bile that threatened to escape your throat. They had tried to kill you, they were getting what they deserved. They were going to do the same to you and Jin.

Jin. 

You caught sight of the vampire a few feet away from you. He had fallen to the ground after he had issued the command. His body was unnervingly still, his skin ashen and the sickliest pallor you had ever seen. He was dying, you were sure of it. That was something you had thought to be impossible for his kind but here he was proving you wrong. It was possible, but hard to do. 

You felt a surge of adrenaline wash over you. You couldn’t let him die, he was your one chance to avoid that very same fate. You needed him just as much as he needed you. If you could help him then he would owe you. You could get the immortality that you were desperate for. 

You cried out in pain as you rolled onto your side and crawled to him. Each inch you moved felt like you were being stabbed along the way. Your body was crying in protest but you were on a mission. 

When you finally closed the distance between you, you could breathe a sigh of relief. He was hurt badly, but he was still “alive,” if not barely. 

You grabbed him by his shoulders and slowly, painfully, dragged him into your lap. Your body threatened to crumble beneath his weight as you guided his head to the open wound on your neck. This was a risk, a really big risk. You were hurt badly and you had already lost so much blood, but you were sure that he would be able to stop. 

“Come on, Jin,” You encouraged him, cupping the back of his head with your hand, “Come on drink, you need to drink.” 

You felt a cool puff of breath on your neck, his nose slightly skimming over your pulse as the scent of blood pulled him out of unconsciousness. And as soon as he was awake, his predatory instincts took control. He lunged forward, wrapping you up in a vice like grip as he dug his fangs into the already open wound. 

You hissed but held still, allowing him to get his fill. He was scarily inhuman at that moment. Jin had fed from you many times, but he had never been like this before. Silent, overbearing, and territorial. 

Your eyes began to flutter, they were feeling incredibly heavy and it was becoming hard to keep them open. You had lost too much blood, you were still losing too much blood. 

“Jin,” You croaked, “You need to stop.” 

He ignored you and continued drinking, only digging his fangs in harder to force more blood from your throat. 

“Jin please stop, please,” You cried, “You’re going to kill me!”

When you realized he wasn’t responding, that he was too enthralled by the feeding frenzy, you began to fight. You tugged at his hair, pushed at his shoulders, kicked at him with your good leg but it all was for nothing. 

He let out an animalistic growl, squeezing you tighter before roughly shoving you to the ground and pinning your wrists above your head. He groaned in delight as your fighting ceased, as your blood flowed more easily into his waiting mouth. 

You were fading fast, your visions steadily beginning to black out around the edges. He was going to kill you, and just like before there was nothing you could do about it. You were utterly helpless. 

Your own desires would be your downfall. Just like Icarus, you had flown too close to the sun. 

~~~~~~~

When Jin came to, he was confused. 

He couldn’t remember anything after he had ordered Junghee and her coven to dismember one another. But when he became aware, he quickly figured out what had happened. Their corpses were sprawled about, their limbs still occasionally twitching. 

And you were there, scarily still in his arms with the remnants of your blood on his lips. 

He didn’t expect a wave of grief to wash over him. He hadn’t felt that even when his own family died or when he watched them mourn the loss of a son that never truly perished. But the sight of you, your broken body limp in his arms was enough to force a choked sob out of him. It was painful, it was complete and utter despair. 

It was in that moment that he realized he did love you. In some horrific twist of fate, he loved you. He once thought that he would be able to kill you, then no one else could have you. But he didn’t anticipate the pain that it would cause him. 

A soft, weak flutter halted all grief he felt. It was your heart. Your little human heart was still trying to beat. You could still be saved. 

That was how he ended up here, with the only person he knew that could fix you. 

“So, this is what you’ve been doing with all your free time.” Namjoon hummed, checking over your vitals. 

Jin stayed quiet, nervously clenching and unclenching his fingers. At that moment, he understood what Yoongi went through. If he believed in karma, which he didn’t, he would have been able to appreciate it. This was what he deserved after what he put Yoongi and the fledgling through. But Jin was far more determined to keep you human than his “brother” ever was. 

But it was undeniable that he could finally understand him. He finally knew what Yoongi was trying to protect him from all those years ago. 

“Junghee really did a number on her. I’ve given her an awful lot of my blood to heal her wounds. It would just take one quick break, Jin. You said it yourself, this is what she wanted.” He mused. 

“She’s my pet, nothing more. She’s useless to me as one of us, I want to make her last as long as I can.” He said with a warning glare.

“It’s useless, you know, lying to me. I could smell it on you the second you came through the door. You bonded with her, she’s yours now. Do with her what you will, but she will join us soon. Whether it’s you or me, well that’s entirely up to her. But I have a feeling she would let any of us do it at this point.” 

“You wouldn’t-”

“Oh, but I would. Remember this, everything I do is for our family. You helped me with Yoongi, you understood then what I was trying to do. You can keep playing with her for a little longer, but she will join us. Don’t make me command you, Jin.” 

Jin’s back stiffened, that familiar tug in his brain was there. That feeling that he needed to fulfill his creator’s wishes. And so, he bought himself some time. 

“I don’t think it’s her you need to be worried about,” Jin said, that cocky edge to his voice back once more. 

“Oh really?” Namjoon asked, leaning forward in interest. 

“When was the last time you checked in on Hoseok?”

Namjoon’s brows furrowed in thought. Jin had got him, this was what he was good at - misdirection. 

“Hoseok too?” He mumbled to himself. “Don’t you find it odd that this is all happening now? Yoongi and the fledgling, you and your pet, Taehyung and the little human he keeps in his studio, and now Hoseok? How interesting.”

He knew about Taehyung? But he hadn’t said anything about Jimin or Jungkook. He didn’t know everything. He had two more bargaining chips to buy himself more time. 

“Watch over her, make sure she doesn’t hemorrhage. You’ve done a good thing, Jin. Thank you.” Namjoon said before briskly leaving the room - his office that now served as a hospital for you. 

He wasn’t so sure that he had done a good thing. He was paying for what he had done to Yoongi now, what would come to him next now that he sold out Hoseok. And what about Jungkook and Jimin, what would happen when he revealed their secrets as well. 

That was all he could think about as he waited for you to wake up. Namjoon’s blood was doing a thorough job. He was old and strong and because of that your body was mending itself incredibly quickly. 

The only thing he hated was that you smelled like him. It was Namjoon’s blood in your body and because of that you were practically emanating his scent. Your normal heavenly essence was murky in the haze of his creator’s and it would take some time for it to dissipate. He was going to have to live with it for the time being. For now, he needed to figure out how he was going to protect you from the fledgling and from Hoseok. One was hungry and the other was certainly going to be pissed with him. 

But if he could keep you like this for a little while longer it was worth it. 

Your heart monitor was starting to accelerate, the beeping became loud and frequent. You were awake. 

He slowly raised his head to look at you and he felt his stomach drop. You were giving him the thousand yard stare, your frail body tense on the mattress. You were utterly and completely frightened of him. 

Your name left his lips in a hushed whisper as he stood, moving closer to your bedside. You shrieked and huddled into the furthest corner that you could. 

“Stay away from me!” You yelled, crossing your arms over your chest in an attempt to block yourself off from him. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, his tone the softest it had ever been, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Let me go, I want to leave. I don’t want to see you ever again, I want to go home!” You were rambling now, every frightened word running out of you with a gasp. 

“You can’t leave, it’s too late now.” He said apologetically. He had never apologized before. 

“I want to leave!” You screamed again, “You tried to kill me! You said you wouldn’t but you did! You lied, you’re a fucking liar!” 

“I’m in control now, that’s never going to happen again I swear.”

“You’re a fucking liar!” You screamed again, your words trailing off with a broken sob. 

He had felt grief when he thought he had killed you, but now he was experiencing heartbreak. His first, genuine heartbreak. He thought seeing your lifeless body was bad, but this, this was somehow worse. 

He was suddenly overcome with the urge to comfort you, to hold you. And so he tried. The second he picked you up you began to writhe, screaming obscenities at him and clawing at his skin. You were trying to do anything you could to get away from him.

The last time he had held you like this, held you this close, he had tried to kill you. Your body and mind were completely in survival mode now and you needed to get away from him. 

But he wouldn’t let you budge. He pulled you into his chest and wrapped you in a tight embrace, pinning your arms in between the two of you so that you couldn’t hurt yourself while trying to hurt him. All you could do was scream and cry and writhe but eventually your body went lax when you realized it was pointless. There was no escape. 

Your brush with death had only made you more frightened of it. You had met that dark, empty void and the void had stared back at you. What some might have found to be peaceful, you had found to be terrifying. And, as a result, you were terrified of Jin. He had brought you to that void and your body was certain he would escort you back. 

“I’m sorry,” He finally said, the words not burning him like he once thought they would for the longest time. “I’m sorry.” 

You sniffled as you limply laid in his hold. You could feel the soft touch of his lips against your cheeks, collecting your tears as they brushed by in the lightest of kisses. 

“Never again,” He mumbled, “I promise.” 

You whimpered once more, the word liar echoing in your mind. 

“I’ll give you what you want, I swear. You’ll never be that close to death again, I’ll keep you safe. Just give me time.” 

You slightly perked in interest. What you want…what you want. He’ll give you what you want. You tilted your head up at the same time he went to kiss your forehead, only for him to gently kiss you instead. He froze for a moment, still as a statue as he processed what he had done before he did it again, and again, and again. It was like he had discovered a new insatiable hunger that he couldn’t settle no matter how many times he tried. 

“I love you,” He admitted so softly against your lips that you thought you had imagined it. 

He loved you. He was going to give you what you wanted. You had almost died. He was a liar. Your mind was reeling. 

“No one else can have you, not even death can take you away from me; because you’re mine, remember?” 

You wake around the same time the next morning, the city still quiet, the traffic and the distant noise of the city just beginning to swell beyond your window.

Your clothes are on the desk, as always—a top and panties and a skirt that’s most likely short enough to expose you when you bend over. You go to the bathroom first, then pull them on, glancing at your phone that you’d left charging next to them on the desk. There’s nothing new, really; just a few posts Maya’s sent you on Instagram.

You’re not particularly interested in what’s on your phone right now, you realise as you scroll through them. Everything you’re interested in is already in the house.

You huff slightly, softly, just enough to feel the cold air brush across your lips. You’re not sure what to do. You don’t hear any of them outside your room; no footsteps in the hall, no voices from downstairs—just silence. A thin silence, unsure, like it doesn’t know how to sit or what to do with itself.

Maybe you’ll go downstairs. Yeah, you could do that. You’ll go downstairs, maybe get a drink, and watch some TV until they come down.

You wrap a blanket around your shoulder, one a thin, loose knit that’s practically see-through You’re not trying to hide yourself, really; it’s just cold air and instinct that has you tugging it over your chest.

San is there on the couch when you shuffle into the living room, already dressed, reading something on his phone and looking up when you walk in. Something in his expression seems to spark and soften at the same time.

“Morning, pretty,” he smiles. “Sleep well?”

“Yeah,” you answer. “Did you?”

“I slept great,” he says. He pauses, hesitating for a moment. For a second, maybe two, he just looks at you; silent, a little scrutinising, like there’s something he’s trying to gauge. Something he’s trying to understand. Then his face evens out, calms, like a mess of laundry now folded into neat piles, and his smile widens. “You know, though,” he continues, and his voice is lower than before. “I was bouncing off the walls a little bit.”

“The walls?” You giggle. The look on his face—something like seriousness wrapped in intention, like there’s something you’re missing that he’s waiting for you to understand—wipes the smile off your face. You swallow. Suddenly nothing seems funny. “Why?”

“The same reason I’m wondering why you’re on your feet.”

You blink. “What?”

He stands up, not suddenly nor aggressively, but just the movement makes you cower like he’s all but run at you. Maybe it’s the way his eyes have sharpened, or how his voice dipped as he spoke—the next small indicators, now impossible to ignore, that the game has begun.

Or maybe you’re just on edge, because you know it has.

“What did we tell you you’d be doing today?” He asks, voice level, even, but not quite light. “What did we tell you you’d be today?”

Oh. The memory of last night—of their hands, their words, their promises—hits you like something solid. Your reply comes soft, shaking, face heating up already. “A—a puppy, sir.”

“Then get down.”

It feels odd to be doing it so early, in here yet with only one of them. You don’t even feel fully awake yet—but San has given you an order. That’s what matters. You’re on your knees before the words have even settled in the air.

“Good,” San says. He takes a step towards you, then another, until he’s close enough to take your chin in his hand. “That’s a good puppy.”

You keep your eyes down, fixed on the floor, and it’s as hard as it’s ever been—San sounds, feels, so confident and dominant and in control that you want nothing more than to look up at him, to see him. See the way he stares you down, eyes narrowed, like you’re nothing and everything all at once.

And today—like you’re a pet. A puppy.

You’ve definitely thought about pet play before; fantasised, and you’d taken a few tentative steps in that direction with Maya. But even those steps were barely so—certainly nothing like this. This is already much, much deeper.

“You look troubled, pup,” San says gently. “Something on your mind? You can speak. Tell me what’s going on in that head.”

“Nothing sir,” you say. “There’s nothing on my mind.”

He hums like he doesn’t quite believe you. “Eyes up.”

His face, you find, is the same as his tone—gentle, calm, but stern and very much owner. He slots a thumb past your lips and lets it sit inside your mouth. “You shouldn’t be thinking about anything,” he tells you, voice firmer now. “Nothing except being good and following directions. That’s all puppies should care about. Is that what you were thinking about?”

“Kind of, sir.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Kind of?” He repeats.

You nod. “I was thinking… I was thinking that I like this.”

“Being a puppy?”

“Yes sir.”

“Well I suppose that’s good,” he smiles. “We want you to like it. I’d rather you weren’t thinking at all, but we’ll work on that. One day you’ll be able to switch your brain off on command.”

Your stomach swoops at the thought, the image, the fact that by now you have very little doubt that he’s telling the truth; your breath hitches, caught in your chest, and you see on his face him taking stock of each small response of your body to his words.

What you don’t do—pointedly so—is clench your thighs together. Because you’re not allowed to anymore. He notices, of course; he must see the way your thighs tense then start to move, like you’re about to press them together but stay stubbornly apart like you’re forcing yourself not to, and he makes a noise that sounds like satisfaction. “Good girl,” he praises. “There’s your control. You’re learning.”

You hear footsteps in the hall, getting closer, but you don’t dare take your eyes off of San. He doesn’t take his off of you, either. “Very good,” he says.

“I see we started early.”

Jongho. He sounds tired still, voice rough, but there’s a slight edge to it that betrays something else.

San chuckles and pulls his thumb halfway out of your mouth, far enough to smear your saliva over your bottom lip, tugging on it a little and seeming to enjoy the way your head moves with it without a choice. “I had to,” he says. “She came in looking like a lost puppy, poor little thing. She was practically begging someone to put her down.”

“And is she being good?”

“Wonderful,” San tells him. “Didn’t even hesitate when I told her to get down. I think we’re weeding that instinct out of her already. Starting to, at least.”

“Let’s hope so.”

Jongho emerges from behind you, coming to stand by San; he’s already dressed, too—comfy, casual, but still dressed. He frowns. His eyes narrow, honing in on your top half that’s still concealed by the blanket. “Is she covering herself?”

“Just a blanket,” San shrugs. “Harmless. You want it off her?”

“Is she cold?”

San looks at you expectantly. “Well, pup? Are you cold?”

“No sir,” you whisper.

“Off then,” Jongho says bluntly. You shrug the blanket off; it falls from around your shoulders, sliding down your back and landing on the floor around you. He tilts an eyebrow, expectant; warning. “Are you going to leave it there?” He asks, sharper now. “On the floor? You’re going to make a mess in our house?”

You falter, hesitating. He cuts you off before you can speak. “Pick it up,” he instructs, voice hardened at the edges. “You don’t make messes here.”

“Yes sir,” you mumble. You move to obey, reaching for it, but Jongho stops you before you can.

“Do dogs use their hands?” He asks.

You pause, turning to him, then shake your head. “No sir.”

“Then neither do you. Pick it up. Use your mouth.”

Your heart is pounding, heat blooming in your chest and neck as you lean down for it; you take the fabric between your teeth, biting down, then look back up at him like you’re silently asking for instruction. “You know what to do,” he says. “Dogs don’t walk, either, in case you’ve forgotten.”

You whine before you can help it; you half expect him to scold you for it, but he just breathes out a low laugh and nods towards the coffee table. “Go.”

So you go—you crawl, just as you’ve done before, under those same stern, watchful gazes, pulling the blanket between your teeth along the floor next to you, then pull it up onto the coffee table and drop it there.

“Good,” San says. “Turn around. Let’s have a look at you.”

They’re smiling now, you see when you obey, turning around on your hands and knees until you’re facing them; small, soft smiles that don’t quite reach their eyes. San clicks his fingers then points down to the floor in front of him. “Here. Come. I have something for you, my girl.”

You perk up, intrigued; if you really did have a tail you’re certain it would be wagging now. They watch, silent, smiling slightly, as you crawl towards them and settle on your knees with your back straight.

“Good posture,” Jongho murmurs.

“Good puppy,” San says. There’s another, newer quality to his voice now, and you know what it is. The same thing that, for you, is making everything seem fuzzy and warm and thrilling.

“Chin up,” San orders. He grasps it in his hand, held between his finger and his thumb, then tilts your head upwards a little more. “There’s my puppy,” he breathes. “Keep your head like this, sweetheart, don’t move it. Stay docile.”

He crouches down so he’s at your level and runs his finger lightly across your neck. Gentle, without pressure, from one side to the other, like he’s tracing the outline of where a collar would be.

Then he reaches into his pocket and actually does pull out a collar.

It’s white, leather, a few centimetres thick, with a small metal ring hanging from the front. You stare at it for a moment, unsure what to say—your face, though, seems to say everything. San’s lips twitch; a small, knowing smirk. “You like it?”

You nod. “Yes sir.”

“Good,” he says. “This is just a play collar, for when you’re a puppy and we need something to tug you around with. Once you’re officially ours you’ll get a real collar; something you can wear all the time. Something formal, a little more subtle so you can wear it out. But this is sweet too, isn’t it?”

“It is, sir. Can I wear it now?”

“Yes you can. Stay still, honey, I’ll get it on you.”

He fastens it around your neck, slotting two fingers between your skin and the leather while he tightens it. “You need room to breathe,” he tells you before you can ask. “If you wanna try breath play, that’s a conversation to have when you’re in your right mind. For now you’re breathing freely. How’s that feel, baby?”

“Feels good, sir.”

“Not too tight or too loose?”

“No sir.”

“Good girl. And how do you feel?”

You pause, still for a moment, trying to find the words—to know what they’d be if you could. It feels rather like they’re running away from you right now.

You feel… “Floaty,” you settle on. “And… and light.”

“There’s your subspace,” he smiles. “You love it there, don’t you?”

“Yes sir.”

“We love you there, too. So sweet and obedient. God, even looking at you like this it feels like you were meant to be a puppy. How’d you survive so long without an owner, baby? Without someone to look after you?”

Your face is burning, you feel it; flames twist in your gut and scorch you in just the way you need it. Your breathing stutters, catching in your throat. “Not— not easily, sir,” you whisper.

“I bet,” he hums. “Poor baby. It’s okay. We’re here now. We’re gonna do everything for you.”

You nod. “Thank you.”

“Okay,” Jongho says a moment later. “No more talking, That’s not puppy-like, is it, baby? You need to get used to being a pup, keeping quiet. Alright?”

You open your mouth to reply, purely instinctual, but stop yourself just in time. Jongho nods, satisfied. “That’s it.”

“Oh my.”

Seonghwa’s voice, soft but sudden, cutting through the silence unexpectedly, almost has you turning towards it. You stop yourself just in time, just as your head starts to move; San makes a noise of satisfaction that has something warm and comfortable swelling in your chest.

You feel Seonghwa’s presence behind you, approaching from the doorway; slow, relaxed footsteps, a soft sound against the floor. You want to look. You want to see him. Fuck, you want…

“I didn’t realise we’d have a puppy already,” he says. God, he’s right there, you feel it— “She’s a pretty one. Where’d you find her?”

He takes another step; then, finally, his hand comes to rest on your head, flat against your hair. It takes everything in you not to keen into his touch.

“She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?” Jongho says to him, but he’s still looking at you. “Seems like a show pup to me, all perfect and pretty. I hope she has the temperament to match.”

“She’s been very obedient so far,” San says. “But I think she needs more training. Her previous owners seem to have been a little hands off.”

“Well we can’t have that.” You hear the smile in Seonghwa’s voice; the laughter he’s barely holding back. Everything about this is over the top, is ridiculous—should be ridiculous, and yet it doesn’t feel ridiculous at all. It feels the opposite, actually—it feels right. Natural. Needed. You feel yourself sinking into it like quicksand you don’t want to free yourself from. “We’ll have to train her up, if her previous owners didn’t. A pretty thing like her deserves nothing less.”

His hand moves forwards, tracing the path of the collar on your neck then grabbing your chin. He doesn’t move you; he just holds it there. He pushes his thumb past your lips and lets it sit there, too.

You want to suck it, badly. Maybe chew on it. But you don’t.

“She’s trying so hard to be good right now,” San clicks his tongue. “Look at her. Poor little thing. Bet she wishes she could tell us how bad she needs it.”

“Shame puppies can’t talk,” Jongho says. “She’ll just have to bark and whine and whimper if she wants something, I guess.”

“You’re doing well,” Seonghwa says; you can tell just from the tone, even before the words sink in, that this is meant for you now. His voice has dipped some, quieter than before, lower; like a secret the two of you share. “You can suck, sweetheart.”

He pushes his thumb in further, down to the knuckle, and you suckle at it; tentatively, at first, then more keenly. It’s strangely relaxing; a little instinctual. He hums. “Eager. I like it.”

“Where’re the others?” Jongho asks. He hides it well, but you still hear the faint impatience in his voice. The excitement.

Seonghwa laughs. “Excited, huh? They’ll be along. For now, why don’t we get some breakfast?”

The way Jongho smiles makes you think it’s probably not pancakes waiting for you in the kitchen. Seonghwa pulls his hand from your lips then taps your jaw with two fingers. You manage not to whine at the loss in your mouth.

“Stay still,” Seonghwa murmurs. “Eyes down. Keep them there. No matter what we do.”

He’s pulled away completely now, no longer touching you; you don’t like it, really, you want him to touch you again, but what you want even more than that is to please him. To hear him call you a good puppy. Maybe you’ll even find out what their version of a treat will be.

So your eyes stay on the ground, firmly, almost stubbornly, as San steps forward then clips a leash to the ring on your collar.

Oh fuck. You’re not surprised, exactly, but shit. They genuinely have you on a fucking leash.

“Come on,” San says, then tugs at it just firmly enough to make you whimper. He heads towards the kitchen, Seonghwa and Jongho in tow, and you follow on all fours. The only sound is their footsteps, your hands and knees padding against the floor, and the sound of your heartbeat pounding between your ears.

They don’t point it out to you. They let you spot it on your own—the little pink bowl on the floor by the table.

It’s not meant for people. The word puppy in bold blue letters on the front only affirms it.

San nudes you forward with his foot where you’ve frozen mid-crawl. “Go on,” he croons. “Breakfast.”

It’s full, you realise as you approach it. It looks like—

“It’s cereal,” Seonghwa tells you. “We’re not giving you dog food.” There’s a layer of amusement in his voice.

“I’m sure we don’t have to tell you not to use your hands,” Jongho says.

No, you think. He doesn’t.

“If you do feel tempted, though,” San adds, “you should remember what happens to puppies who don’t behave. A rolled up newspaper should remind you of your role today. If it doesn’t, a few lashes of your leash against your thighs definitely will.”

You can’t help but wince at the thought, and he laughs. “Eat up. Good puppies obey the first time.”

You don’t think you’ve ever found the act of lowering your head down and taking a bite to be quite so daunting. It’s a little awkward like this, hard to hold yourself, but you manage.

They pay you no attention—none. They just… go about their morning. Sitting at the table. Talking in low voices you can’t quite make out. Then, when you finish, Jongho beckons you over with two fingers and a “here, girl.”

You crawl over to him—not far, but your bare shins on the cold tiles makes it feel a lot further—and settle on your knees. He scratches the back of your head, between your ears, and hums.

“Good girl,” he grunts. “I’m gonna finish my breakfast. Why don’t you curl up at my feet til I’m done, hm?”

He pushes you down, gently, a hand on the back of your neck nudging you towards the floor. “Down you go,” he murmurs.

Time, you realise, passes strangely at Jongho’s feet. You’re not sure how much elapses like that—curled up, your head resting on his slippers, cold tile pressed against your bare skin, eyes half closed. But it’s peaceful. You’re not too cold, either, despite your near nudity; maybe they’ve turned the heating up a little bit, or maybe it’s the fact that you’re already feeling, well, hot.

It might well be both.

Every now and then Jongho reaches down to pat your hair, or nudges you gently with his foot, like a little silent assurance that you aren’t forgotten. It’s nice—knowing that even when you’re being ignored, they’re still paying attention.

You get so comfy like that, so far away in your own head, that you don’t realise they’re done until you’re being pulled back up onto your knees by the leash.

“All fours,” he orders, and you obey without thinking. “Good.”

He tugs at the leash again, already walking away and you pad through to the living room by his side, Seonghwa and San following closely behind.

Your face heats up a little, being so exposed, feeling their eyes on you, but you hardly register it. All you register—all you have the capacity to register like this—are the individual steps you’re taking and your desperation to do a good job of it.

Wooyoung arrives in the living room just as you do, shuffling in from upstairs. Your head is bowed still, eyes cast downwards like a good puppy; you dare to raise them for a moment, just a moment, but it’s long enough to catch his reaction; he pauses briefly, eyes widening for a moment, lips parting in surprise then curling into something more intentional. Something sly.

You force your eyes back down as soon as he meets them. For a moment you worry that’s not enough—that you shouldn’t have dared to raise them in the first place, even subtly—but no one moves to correct you on it.

Perhaps you get a little leeway like this. You dare to hope so.

“Well, well,” Wooyoung says. “I wasn’t expecting the puppy this early.”

“She was desperate for it,” San says mildly. He nudges you with his foot, a soft kick to the back of your thigh. “Sit, pup.”

You obey easily, settling on your knees, staring resolutely at Wooyoung’s feet, snug inside dark slippers partially concealed by the hems of his black pyjama pants. You want to look at him, of course, see the approval you hope you’d find on his face, but you know better. You’ve chanced it enough already.

He rests his hand atop your head, ruffling your hair gently; this time you can’t help but keen into his touch. He laughs. “So cute,” he coos. “Little pup can’t help herself, huh? Needs to be touched. Eyes up.”

He looks soft. That’s your first, immediate thought; hair unstyled, a little messy, face bare, eyes gentle if still holding a little of the sharpness they always seem to with you.

“You’re a little lax today,” he hums, but he doesn’t sound scolding—just observational. “Looking up when you shouldn’t be. Chasing my touch, but that’s okay. Puppies get more leeway than regular subs, ‘cause they’re cute and they don’t know how to talk back. You go deeper into your subspace as a puppy, so you can’t think as clearly, can’t catch yourself like you usually would. You get the leniency to reflect that.”

He’s stroking you as he talks, soft, circular motions, just enough pressure to feel grounding; it makes it hard to digest his words as he speaks, but you manage to when you concentrate. He smiles—a kind, smug, knowing smile like he’s reading your mind exactly.

“You’re a good girl,” he murmurs. “Pretty. We’ll show you how to be a good puppy, too. Come.”

You follow him to the couch; the leash is gone, you realise, unclipped some time after they’d tugged you into the kitchen, but you must have missed it in the haze of your headspace. Still, you crawl obediently by Wooyoung’s feet as if you were still attached to it, until he sits himself down on the couch and points at the floor between his parted legs. “You can kneel here,” he says. “No pets on the furniture.”

The other three are already seated, following you with their eyes; San reaches across Wooyoung’s lap to ruffle your hair. “Good puppy,” he smiles, eyes in crescents. “You just sit there.”

Wooyoung’s legs are pressing against you, not tight, no pressure, just holding you where you are and keeping you straight. You could lean against him if you get tired, you think, without breaking position. You don’t want to break position. So that’s good.

Wooyoung runs a long finger over your head, following the parting of your hair, and hums. “Didn’t we get her some ears?” He asks. “Poor little pup doesn’t have any.”

“We did,” Jongho replies. He looks up from his phone, brows furrowing a little, then looks back down again. “We got her everything she needs.”

“Well, she needs ears,” Wooyoung says. “What kind of puppy doesn’t have ears? Or even a tail? Was it docked off at the breeder or something?”

San snorts. “As if we’d let them do that to her.”

“The stuff is in Seonghwa’s room,” Jongho adds.

Wooyoung hums. “Well, go and get it.”

“You go and get it.”

Wooyoung reaches around you to grab your chin, fingers digging into your cheeks, and yanks your head around to face Jongho. You squeak, half in surprise and half in pain; they ignore you. “Can’t you see I’m busy?” Wooyoung snaps. “I have a puppy to train. You go and get it.”

“I’ll go,” Seonghwa says. “You two, stop acting like children. We’ve our own little girl now.”

He leaves before the words can really settle, but your reaction is instant, instinctive. A sharp intake of breath, catching in your chest; a shudder that makes your whole body quake.

Jongho laughs lowly, knowingly. Wooyoung, his grip on your face released now, tugs on your hair hard enough to make your eyes water.

“Oh, you liked that, huh?” San’s smile has stretched into a grin now, all teeth. “She wants to be our little girl, doesn’t she?”

“Seems that way,” Jongho says. “She’d be a cute one, wouldn’t she?”

“She would,” Wooyoung hums. “All tiny and bratty and clingy. Suits her.”

“Maybe we’ll try it some time,” San says.

You’re only half following; your eyes are fixed on the empty doorway Seonghwa left through, the small expanse of hallway you can see through the opening. For a moment you heard his footsteps as he retreated, getting quieter and further away until they were gone too; you’re frowning, lips pushed out into a pout, you realise when San laughs, nudging your thigh with his foot. “Hwa will be back soon, puppy. Poor thing, you didn’t want him to leave, huh?”

You shake your head; just as you do, as if summoned by magic, Seonghwa appears again, and you straighten up instinctively, lifting your head, back arching some like you’re trying to show him how poised and proper and good you can be. He smiles, coming to stand in front of you and patting your head. “Here we go,” he says.

He’s holding a couple of things. First, a pair of floppy white ears, attached to a headband that he crouches down to clip into place in your hair. “Don’t want you losing ‘em,” he smiles.

The other is a pair of what looks like mittens, in the same colour as the ears. “Paw,” Seonghwa says. It takes you a moment to realise what he means; you hold out your hands, one at a time, and watch silently as he fastens the mittens around your hands and ties them at the wrists. “Puppies don’t use their hands,” he tells you. “This way you won’t have to remember not to.”

The last thing in his hands is a box. It’s small-ish, nondescript, and you can’t tell what’s in it; you look up at Seonghwa with pleading eyes, hoping it’ll sway him into telling you, but he just laughs. “That’s not gonna work today I’m afraid,” he says. “This is for later, if you’re good and if you want it. We’ve already given you, what, three gifts today? If I give you this now you’re gonna end up spoiled.”

“She’s gonna end up spoiled anyways, just look at her,” Wooyoung says. “The sweetest little puppy. I already want to give her whatever she wants.”

“It’s hard to resist,” San says. He’s standing now, next to Seonghwa, eyes raking over your bare, kneeling form, taking in the sight of you. He looks pleased. “Jongho, bring her bed over here.”

The words take a moment to settle; from the corner of your eye you watch as Jongho rises, walking across the room and picking up— oh. Of course.

That’s why they’d been so insistent that the thing you’d been lying on last night wasn’t a dog bed—because they were about to give you something that actually was.

Jongho puts it down in front of the couch, near to where you’d been kneeling. It’s a dark brown, soft looking, big enough to hold you if you curl up. Seonghwa nudges your attention back towards him with a hand on your chin. “Okay,” he says softly. “We’ve let you be curious for a bit. Let you get a good look at what’s going on. Now you listen. Eyes down.”

Your gaze falls, just as instructed; Seonghwa makes a noise of satisfaction that sits warm in your belly. “Good,” he says. “You remember. There’ll be no more wandering eyes today. We’ll keep you on track. Show me your panties.” He nudges your knees, pressed together, with his foot, humming when you realise what he wants you to do and part your legs accordingly. He crouches down for a better view of them, the black cotton and lace snug against your cunt. His hand wraps around your thigh and nudges your leg open a little bit further.

It doesn’t improve his view, already unimpeded; you think he just wanted to feel your body obeying him.

“Cute,” he smiles. “Are you wet? Nod or shake your head.”

Tentatively, you nod, though you’re all but certain. There’s no way you couldn’t be wet now, right?

“I’d like to check myself. Nod or shake your head.”

You nod again. Seonghwa exhales. His hand moves up your thigh, then two fingers press against your clothed cunt. You inhale, a sharp, sudden breath, and bite down a whimper.

Seonghwa’s touch feels like static, reaching you in every corner of your body; finds you in the smallest, darkest corners and crevices. You can tell he knows it. He presses down a little harder, the corners of his lips quirking in amusement, then pulls away, standing back up again. He lifts the two fingers that were pressed against your cunt and shows them to San.

“Look at that,” Seonghwa says. “Sheen. All the way through her panties. Leaking like a little faucet.”

“Good call having her wear panties, then,” San laughs. “She’d be dripping all over our floors.”

“You like it this much?” Wooyoung asks. His voice comes from behind you, landing on the back of your neck like a cold breath. “Being a pet. You’ve been waiting for it, haven’t you?”

Not consciously, you think. But you’re taken aback by how natural this feels. You make to respond, mouth opening; you catch yourself just in time, and a soft, throaty whine slips out from where you’d held the words back. Wooyoung coos.

“Eyes up.” Seonghwa’s hand is on your chin now, gripping it between two fingers, forcing your attention onto him where it had started to drift away. “Good puppy. Now. I’m going to give you some instructions, and you’re going to listen very, very carefully. Yeah?”

You nod, straightening up a little; Seonghwa smiles. “Good,” he says. “You’re going to curl up in your little dog bed here. You won’t speak, unless it’s to call a safeword. You’re going to be a good puppy. You won’t bother us. You’ll wait for us to put you to use, and you’ll be grateful for what you get. Go on now. Crawl.”

He smacks your ass as you start to obey, on the patch of skin where your skirt’s ridden up; you don’t react, determined to show them you can control yourself and focused on your mission of getting to the bed.

It’s soft, more padded than you thought it would be. You take a second to get yourself comfortable, finding a position that works and allows the bed to hold you in your entirety, then let your head rest on the raised side. When you look up, you can see Wooyoung and San, but they’re not looking at you. No one is looking at you.

You sigh softly, turning your head back to where it was lying comfortable before, facing outwards; you yawn, humming slightly, and without really thinking, you push two fingers past your lips and into your mouth.

You’re not even conscious of it until someone laughs.

“Is that her version of a chew toy?” You’re not sure where Hongjoong’s voice is coming from, and by now you’re too comfy to lift your head to look, but you hear the slight sleepiness, the soft amusement in his tone. “Her own fingers?”

Seonghwa is in front of you a second later, crouching down by your bed and yanking your fingers out of your mouth. He smacks your cheek, not too hard but certainly not gentle, clicking his tongue. “Bad dog,” he says. “You don’t decide what goes in your mouth. We do. Understand?”

You nod. Seonghwa smiles gently. “Good girl.”

He reaches to pat your head, ruffling your hair slightly, and then he’s gone.

You hear them telling; at some point, the voices of the others come into the mix, but you don’t fully digest what they’re saying. It’s not about you, though, you know that; while Yeosang gives a short, fond laugh when he walks in and sees you there before turning the conversation to something else, Yunho and Mingi say nothing at all. From this angle, you can’t be certain they even looked at you.

It’s surprisingly easy to just lie there, doing nothing, even with your subspace making you so needy for them; the same subspace that makes you hot and desperate, like this, is making you calm. Floaty. Fuzzy. You’re happy just lying curled up in the warmth of your little bed and think of nothing but obeying them.

You do wonder what their intention here is, though. You know the purpose, of course, to show you what it’s like to be a puppy, but you’re not certain why. Everything they do with you seems to have a reason—that first day, when they took you apart, it was to set the tone and the expectations for this relationship; the second day, when you were wrapped up in rope and spanked into total and complete submission, it was to teach you to surrender. To show you the freedom of losing control. Yesterday, when they had you strung out and denied all day, it was to teach you control itself. To teach you to obey.

You’re not sure what it is today.

They turn on the TV, a variety show none of them seem to be watching, but with nothing else to do you start to follow along. They’re speaking quickly, the hosts, a little faster than you’re used to or comfortable with in your second language, but it’s not too hard to keep up.

They’re playing a game; the group, rookies you haven’t heard of, are split into two and playing some odd sort of playground game. It’s neck and neck. The tiebreaker round is next.

Just as it’s about to start, the channel changes. Your head lifts off of the bed, only slightly, and a confused sound escapes your throat before you can help it.

A hand fists into your hair and pulls you upwards, far enough that you’re on your knees and staring right into San’s face.

He doesn’t look annoyed. He looks amused. “Were you watching that?” He asks.

You keep your mouth shut. The corner of his lips quirks on one side. “Poor thing,” he says. “You haven’t quite learned yet, have you? Puppies don’t know how to think. That’s why they need their owners to do it for them. But I think you were thinking, weren’t you, pup?”

Your gaze drops, cheeks flushing pink, a small measure of shame breaking through the haze. San laughs. “Don’t worry, baby,” he coos, “I know it’s hard. You’ve spent so long trying to be a person, haven’t you? It must be hard to turn it off. We’ll help you.”

He lets go of your hair and you fall back down, not expecting to suddenly be unsupported; you’re kneeling with your ass against your shins now, staring up at San with an empty expression.

Help you. What does that mean?

“We need to dumb her down a little,” San says. “A bone, how about that?”

“Do we have a bone?” Mingi asks.

“I think we do,” Seonghwa says. “More of a chew toy. We never got around to using it, when we had— yeah, I know where it is.”

“And the other thing?” Wooyoung asks.

“Later,” Seonghwa says. “She hasn’t earned it.”

You wonder what it is you haven’t earned yet, but you don’t have much time to dwell on it now, because Seonghwa is walking out of the room to go and get you a bone, a chew toy, and the thought fills you with excitement and curiosity. You wonder if it really will make you go down; make the thoughts and the coherence and all the human stuff happening in your head just turn off. If the act itself doesn’t, the praise you hope they’ll give you for chewing on it so nicely surely will.

Seonghwa returns with it in hand, still wrapped up in plastic; he pulls it out, discarding the wrapping on the table, then walks over to you. “Kneel,” he says. “Eyes up. Open your mouth.”

Your lips part obediently; Seonghwa shakes his head. “Wider.”

Once it’s wide enough, so wide that it’s starting to hurt your jaw, he slides the toy in and rests it on your bottom row of teeth. “Bite down,” he says. “Carefully, I don’t want your slobber on me. If your mouth touches my hand I’ll beat you.”

You close your mouth slowly, carefully; when you’re biting down hard enough he pulls his hand away, ruffling your hair a little. “Good girl,” he smiles. “Lie back down. We have some things to talk about today—no, not with you, don’t worry—so you’re going to lie there and be good while we do it. Just chew on your toy and entertain yourself.”

You sigh, curling up in your bed again, this time with the toy between your teeth. You start to bite down on it, hesitant, still getting used to the feel of it in your mouth and— oh. It squeaks.

It’s a quiet sound the first time you hear it, your bite weak enough to only just make it go off; you try again, biting down a little harder, and it comes louder now. Oh, that’s fun. You bite down faster this time, two bites in quick succession, and the squeaks are faster and shorter in tandem. You smile around the toy, biting down again; it’s wet now, drool beginning to soak into the plastic and drip down onto your bed, but you hardly notice. You’re having fun. Someone reaches down to scratch your head, gentle, and you keen into the touch a little bit. You don’t know how long they stay like that for, and it doesn’t even dawn on you to look up to see who it is. You’re focused on your toy. On the squeaks. On the oddly soothing feeling of soft plastic between your teeth.

You hear them speaking; hear their voices, low and serious, talking about work from the few words you care to make out—practice, stage, choreography. You hold the toy between your two mitten-clad hands, keeping it steady as you bite down harder. You wonder if the plastic would rip, if you did it hard enough. You wonder how tough it is—would it still squeak if it was ripped open? Maybe it would squeak even louder, actually, if it didn’t have the plastic muffling it.

That’s something to do.

You bite down as hard as you can, dragging your teeth across the plastic, trying to tear a hole somewhere. You manage to make one near the middle, where the plastic is thinner, and the squeak is louder, just like you’d thought.

“What are you doing?” You pause, looking up; Hongjoong is standing over you, peering down with an eyebrow raised. “Get up,” he says. “On your knees.”

You pull yourself up into position, staring up at him with the toy still held between your teeth. Hongjoong holds his hand out in front of your face. “Drop it.”

You do; it lands in his hand and he lifts it, moving it so the end is held between two fingers. “Covered in slobber,” he says. “Embarrassing. Is that a hole you’ve made in it?”

“A hole?” Yeosang appears suddenly by Hongjoong’s side, a slight smile catching on his lips. “She made a hole in it?”

“Right here,” Hongjoong says, pointing to it. “I think that was on purpose, don’t you? I don’t think a little puppy could do that by accident.”

“Definitely not,” Yeosang agrees. “I think the dog—” He pauses for a second, gaze flickering down towards you then back up, “—has some lessons to learn about respect.”

“She’s just a pup,” Wooyoung says from behind you. “It’s normal for them to break things. You were just playing, weren’t you honey?” He leans down, nuzzling his face into your hair and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“She still needs to learn,” Hongjoong says, voice firm. “Look at me, dog. Eyes up.”

He doesn’t look angry, of course; just stern. His voice is quiet and firm and final.

“You do not break things. You do not tear holes in things. When we’re nice enough to give you something, you treat it with respect. Do you understand me?”

You nod. He doesn’t look impressed. “No,” he says, “we let you be a quiet little lap dog because we thought you could behave like one. But if you want to chew holes in things, you can act like the untrained stray you seem to think you are. So now, if we ask you a question, you’re going to bark. Understood?”

Jesus Christ. Your breath hitches, catching in your throat; Hongjoong is staring at you expectantly, waiting for you to respond, and you force out a quiet little yip that might be the most pathetic sound you’ve ever made.

Hongjoong looks delighted.

“Good dog,” he grins. “You’ve lost the privilege to play with toys, I’m afraid, so you’re going to come and sit with me. Any more misbehaviour and you’ll be whipped, understood?”

You bark again, a little louder this time; Hongjoong clicks his fingers, pointing to the floor next to him. “Come, girl.”

You crawl by his side as he returns to his seat on the other couch, next to Jongho; you feel Yeosang following behind you, hear his quiet footsteps against the floor, and when you settle kneeling by Hongjoong’s feet Yeosang sits down on the other side. Hongjoong puts the toy away somewhere out of your sight, then parts his legs. “Kneel in between them,” he says, pointing to the floor. “You’re going to learn to be respectful of your things. So instead of a chew toy, you’re going to keep my fingers in your mouth; maybe that’ll make you more considerate. I understand puppies can’t think as clearly as humans, but you knew better. You made a conscious choice to destroy that toy, so now you’re going to learn not to.”

He pushes two fingers into your mouth once you’re in position, pushing right to the back of your throat; you gag around them, but it’s more out of surprise at the intrusion than an actual inability to breathe, and when he pulls them out far enough to sit comfortably on your tongue you settle down. He pushes the side of your head gently with his hand, guiding it to rest against his thigh. “Good puppy,” he coos. “Suck on my fingers, sweetheart. We still have a few more things to discuss.”

His other hand is a firm presence on the back of your neck as the conversation starts up again, keeping you still, the feeling of his fingers pressing into your skin pushing you deeper into the haze. His grip is so firm, so assured; his control of you, of your body, so palpable you feel like you could reach out and touch it.

You can’t believe how easy it is with them. How little it takes to put you into subspace; to push you further into it and keep you there. How they can do it with barely more than a glance.

You float there for a while, content, until someone speaks.

“Are you enjoying this?”

You look up, blinking, meeting Hongjoong’s blank gaze. Um.

“I think you are,” he says. Let’s see how wet you are.”

He lays you flat over his lap, your ass in the air, like Wooyoung had done yesterday with your legs spread and your toes grazing against the floor. He runs two fingers up your inner thigh, slowly, steadily, easing closer and closer to your cunt. His touch is feather-light, a tickle that makes it hard to stay still and quiet.

“Such a good dog,” he murmurs. “I can see how hard you’re trying to stay still. Sensitive, hm?”

Finally he reaches your cunt; his fingers push through your folds, grazing across your hole and your clit, gathering your wetness in his hand. He hums. “Soaking,” he says. “Wet cunt on a wet dog. She just has no shame at all.”

“She can’t help it.” Another hand, a little larger, fingers thicker and rougher, settles on the back of your thigh, pressing slightly into the skin. Jongho. “She’s gone all the way down now, I think. Exactly how we wanted her.”

“I think she’s earned her reward,” Hongjoong says.

“I agree.”

You’re moved then; lifted from Hongjoong’s lap and placed back down on the floor, on your knees the way you’d been before. Hongjoong grabs your jaw, pushing his thumb into your mouth and using it to ease it open. “Show me your tongue,” he says. “And your throat. Gotta make sure.”

You must look confused, because Jongho, sat next to Hongjoong and peering down at you with equal intensity, huffs out a low laugh. “Sweet girl doesn’t get it, do you? Puppies need to be inspected all over. That includes the mouth. Anywhere that can take a finger or a dick needs to be checked.”

Oh, right. You let your mouth open a little more, jaw falling slack, something warm pulsing in your chest at the satisfied sound Hongjoong makes in response. He looks focused, brows furrowed slightly, finger pressing down on your tongue, then pushing to the back of your throat, then running across your bottom lip. “Very good,” he says. “Seonghwa, come here. Bring her tail.”

A tail. You perk up, back straightening some, and something tightens in your gut at the thought. Hongjoong smiles. “Eager, huh?” He says. “The tail matches your ears.” He reaches to tug at one of the ears gently, the clips it’s fastened to tugging at your hair slightly. “It’s fixed to a plug. Can you take a plug right now?”

You nod, barking quietly. You can definitely take a plug now; you haven’t eaten much, and you cleaned yourself out this morning as you always do. Hongjoong nods. “Good,” he says. “Lean over, then. Ass up.”

You feel the presence behind you, then your ass grazing against someone’s crotch. His hands comes to rest on your hips, steadying you, then push your skirt the rest of the way over your ass where it has already started to fall. “Easy,” comes a low murmur. Seonghwa’s hand moves down, the other locked in place to hold you still, and slowly starts to tug down your panties. They’re pulled to your mid-thigh, far enough down to expose you but high enough that the fabric keeps your legs pressed together somewhat. The sound of a cap being undone, then liquid squeezed out, makes your breath catch in your throat.

You exhale, steadying yourself. It’s just a plug. You’ve taken things in your ass before.

It’s cold, both the lube and the what feels like steel of the plug; you gasp, flinching ever so slightly, but you manage not to react too much. Seonghwa’s hand stays firm on your hip while the other pushes the plug in past your rim; it’s a full feeling, intrusive, but not quite a stretch.

“There we go,” he hums, pushing it the rest of the way inside until your rim is curled around the base of it. He pats your ass, not quite a smack, but there’s a slight sting to it that makes you wonder if there’s still a sensitivity there from the spanking you took a couple of days ago. “Now she’s a puppy,” Seonghwa says. “Isn’t she cute?”

“Adorable,” San says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “Looks natural, doesn’t it? I wonder how it feels.”

“Full, probably,” Jongho says. “Kneel, puppy.”

You feel their eyes on you as you push yourself up onto your knees; your panties are still bunched around your thighs, the fabric slightly tangled, damp and sticky at the crotch, but you don’t try to move them. You know better than that.

You wonder what their plans are for you; if they have any at all, or if they just want to have you like this. Hongjoong sighs, adjusting himself, hips pushing outwards slightly, then points downwards. “Here, girl.”

You crawl over to him as gracefully as you can, settling on your knees by his side; he rests a hand on your head and runs his thumb over your scalp. “Eyes up,” he orders. “Good girl, you’re a natural. And so pretty with your little tail, aren’t you?”

His hand moves down to grip your jaw, fingers digging into your cheeks, then pulls away. You hear the smack before you feel it; the loud, sharp sound that rings out on its own for a few seconds before the pain hits.

It’s not overly hard. It doesn’t knock the wind out of you. But the sound and the sting and the way his expression doesn’t change—still cool, still passive, as though nothing had happened at all—makes something in your stomach swoop and your vision blur at the edges. You bite back a whine, afraid it will come out louder than you can get away with, but something in your face must betray you, because Hongjoong breathes out a laugh then hits you again. “Pathetic,” he says, but the softness of his tone makes the word land like praise. “Don’t give me those puppy eyes.”

“She probably feels a little lost right now,” Jongho says. “All floaty and fuzzy and hardly being touched. Wondering if we’re gonna put her to use or just string her out.”

“Must be hard not knowing,” Hongjoong says. “Colour, puppy? You can speak.”

“Green.” The word feels oddly unfamiliar on your tongue; the sound of your voice, small and soft, strangely foreign. You’ve already gotten accustomed to being quiet. To barking and whining and whimpering. Speaking feels… wrong.

“Good girl,” Hongjoong replies. “Then I’ll put you out of your misery. You’re not getting off today. Clear?”

You nod. You’d sort of figured.

“Good,” he says. “Then you can get your bed and bring it over here. Save the floor digging into your poor little knees. Go on.”

You nod, turning away from him; he sends you off with a smack to your ass as you start to crawl away. It makes the plug shift inside you, reminding you of the presence that had already started to slip your mind, and you whimper.

You feel them watching you as you move. When you reach the bed, for just a moment, you hesitate.

You can’t use your hands; they’re still snug in those soft mittens, and you doubt you’d be allowed to anyway. So how…?

“Teeth,” someone says. “Come on. You’ve seen puppies pick things up, haven’t you?”

You have. It’s not as easy to pick up as your bone was, of course (rest in peace to that poor piece of plastic), but you manage to tug it along the floor as you crawl back over to Hongjoong. He takes it from you once you’re within reach, putting it down between where he and Jongho are seated, then taps it with his foot. “Down,” he says. “On your knees. Face Jongho.”

Jongho slips his fingers past your mouth just as Hongjoong had done, pulling your head to rest against his thigh; his fingers are splayed across the back of your head and neck, thumb rubbing soft circles into your skin, and you can’t help but sigh contentedly.

You’re so comfy. This is so easy. You’re right where you want to be.

Nothing much happens for the next while. You stay there, still and silent, as they go about their day; people come and go, to their rooms, Hongjoong and Mingi leaving for a while to get a hook recorded before they forget it, but you don’t move. Nor does Jongho. He takes his hand away from your head after a while, but his fingers stay in your mouth, resting atop your tongue.

You’re not really thinking about much. Time seems to slip by separate from you; independently, like you’re floating somewhere it can’t quite reach. You don’t fall asleep—but you’re not exactly awake, either. You’re just… there.

They feed you your lunch by hand, sandwiches cut up into small bites, then hold a bottle of water to your lips until you’ve downed at least half of it. Your plug comes out a little while later; you don’t want it to, of course, enjoying the feeling of fullness and the softness of your tale against your legs, but Yunho’s narrowed eyes and the threat of a whipping stops your whining before it can really start.

“You’ve had it in long enough,” he says. “I can easily go and get your leash. Do you need some lashes on your thighs with it to help the point sink in?”

You shake your head quickly, biting down on your lip as if to physically trap your protests in your throat. Yunho nods, humming, a noise halfway between amusement and satisfaction sounding out in the silence as he slowly eases the plug out of you.

“Good puppy,” he murmurs. “You’re going to start to come up now. Slowly. You’ve been down for a while, haven’t you?”

True to his words, you come down steadily, at your own pace. They don’t rush you; Jongho’s other hand returns to rest against your head where it had been before, caressing you slowly, his touch just heavy enough to feel grounding and stabilising as you come back to earth.

The paws are the first to come off, untied and pulled off of your hands so quietly you don’t even notice. Your ears are next. Your collar comes off only once you’ve been lifted off of your bed and settled by Jongho’s side.

“There we go,” he says. “Coming up, huh? In your own time, baby. You can speak whenever you want to.”

“Sir.” The word is quiet, mumbled, your face pressed into Jongho’s side, eyes half closed.

“I’m here,” he assures you. “You did well.”

His arm is wrapped around your shoulder, you realise, hand rubbing up and down your back. He’s slid it under your shirt so his skin is pressed directly against yours, and his hand is warm, the skin soft.

“It’s almost time for dinner,” he tells you. “Do you think you can eat?”

“Wanna stay here,” you respond. “Comfy.”

“You can eat here,” he says. “We’ll bring the food through, just this once.”

“Once?”

“Not really,” he says. “Usually we eat at the table. But I’m sure the others wouldn’t mind you eating in here when you want to. Especially when you’ve just been so good and sweet for us.”

Another hand, larger, comes to rest on your thigh, following the curve of it where it’s angled towards Jongho. “How’s the pup?” Mingi asks, his voice a low drawl.

“Still coming up, I think,” Jongho answers. “Not sure you still calling her pup is gonna help the process though.”

Mingi huff, snorting slightly. “That has nothing to do with the scene,” he says. “She looks like a little puppy all the time to me. Tiny and naughty and eager to please.”

“I suppose she does.”

“How’s your hole, honey?” It takes a second for you to register that Mingi is talking to you.

“Fine,” you respond. “Empty.”

He laughs. “I’ll bet. You take a plug well, don’t you? Good at having your ass full. You like it?”

“Like it,” you repeat. “Comfy.”

“I’m sure it is.”

They feed you your dinner, too, noodles in a light soup that Jongho balances in your lap while he feeds you small mouthfuls of it, praising you with each one. You’ve never been praised for something so unremarkable before.

You don’t do any more scenes that day, but the small, lingering pieces of the high and the peace and the calm fuzziness stay with you until nightfall.

San comes to check on you when you’re tucked in, just before you turn off the light. He’s in his pyjamas too, soft looking blue checkered ones, his glasses sitting on his nose and his feet snug in his navy blue slippers. He looks homely. Cozy. Like something you could hide away in.

He runs his hand up your body where it’s tucked beneath the blanket, from the bottom of your legs to your cheek; his hand lingers there for a second, cupping your face, and there’s nothing but softness in his eyes. “You did well today,” he says quietly.

“Thank you.”

He leans into you slightly, just a little, and for a moment you think he’s going to kiss you; where his lips would land is another question, of course, but something in his expression seems to speak to an intention along those lines.

But then he hesitates. Stops. Moves back again. The smile on his face is no less genuine even as he retreats.

He’s just starting to turn for the door when you speak, the words slipping past your lips before you can consider them.

“San,” you call quietly. “Stay?”

He pauses, smile fading and for one moment, ice cold, you think he’s going to say no and the illusion of care and fondness they’ve created for you over these past few days will shatter into tiny pathetic pieces. But then the smile comes back softer, gentler, and he nods, climbing into bed with you and pulling you into his arms. “Course,” he murmurs. “C’mere, puppy.”

His hold is strong and firm but not hard; it yields and gives where you want it to and holds you tight where you don’t. He, they, seem to do much the same.

“Why do you do this?” You ask, out of the blue. Sleepiness has always loosened your tongue a little. “Like, have a sub all together.”

“As opposed to what?” He asks.

You shrug. It feels like a trick question somehow, but he’s looking at you with nothing but patience. “One sub each, or hookups, or…girlfriends or something.”

He’s quiet for a moment; thoughtful. “Think of it like this,” he starts. “Everyone needs connection, right? And release. With our jobs we aren’t really able to meet those needs in a meaningful way; too busy for girlfriends, of course, and it can get messy as idols anyway. We had hookups, as well, but it didn’t do it for us.”

“Why not?”

“Because release on its own does nothing for us. It has to be both. There has to be connection, deep connection. We couldn’t get that from just sex. We were all feeling it but we weren’t sure what else to do other than, like, fuck each other, which, no.”

He makes a face, exaggerated and you giggle softly. He glances down at you with a small smile and adjusts you in his hold a little; now, held against his chest, you feel the low, calm vibrations of his voice as he speaks to you. “Then I just… started thinking about it. Saw someone online talking about their sub and it made me think. Not just about having a sub but about sharing with the others, too. We’d all tended to take dominant roles in sex, and when we were doing hookups we’d sometimes share a girl together, in twos or threes usually. Turns out we all wanted something deeper too, and we all get a lot of fulfilment from being in control. From taking care of someone, taking charge of them. Which led us here.”

“That makes sense,” you hum. “Do you think…do you still feel lacking anything, like you did before?”

He takes a second to think. “No,” he answers. “This feels right. In a job like ours your whole life is controlled; everything is decided for you. But with you, with this, we can have control. We can have responsibility and bear it. And by having it together we find our own bond with each other deepens. Hey, look at me.”

He suddenly shifts you, tilting your head upwards by the chin to meet his eyes. “Whatever happens, we’ll never take for granted this gift you’ve given us,” he says. “I want you to know that.”

“Gift?” You repeat. “What gift?”

“Your submission,” he responds. “Your surrender. Letting us have control when we usually have none. It’s not a small thing to us. Never would be.”

“Thank you.” It slips out without any thought; instinct rather than reply. It feels a little strange, to say it, not really certain what you’re thanking him for, but he hums like he knows exactly what you mean and pulls you closer.

You fall asleep that way, in his arms, wrapped in the shared silence.

told you it was coming back! thank you so much for waiting. i hadn’t anticipated how crazy this school year was going to be but im so glad to finally be able to continue this. i promise i will not make u wait that long again!!!

The assassin remained faceless.

Invisible.

And Jongho was running out of patience.

“The servant entrances were searched again this morning,” Yeosang said calmly from the opposite side of the table. “Nothing unusual.”

“There has to be another access point,” Yunho muttered, frustration clear in his voice as he crossed his arms. “Nobody disappears this easily inside the palace.”

Seonghwa remained quieter than the others, studying the reports with sharp concentration. “Or someone inside is helping them.”

The room fell silent for a moment at that.

Jongho’s jaw tightened.

He already knew that possibility existed. He simply hated how likely it had become.

His shoulder still ached occasionally, especially during long days, but it no longer slowed him. The bandages beneath his clothing felt more irritating than painful now, though Y/n still fussed over him enough that he sometimes wondered if she enjoyed forcing him to sit still more than she should.

The thought surfaced unexpectedly.

And with it came the memory of her laughing the night before.

Of her leaning against him half asleep while complaining that he cheated at chess even though he had lost again.

Something in his chest softened immediately. Dangerously so.

“You’re doing it again.”

Jongho looked up sharply.

Yunho sighed. “Leaving mentally.”

“I am listening.”

“You are thinking about your wife,” Seonghwa corrected lightly.

Jongho frowned. “That obvious?”

Yeosang looked unimpressed. “Painfully.”

Yunho snorted softly.

Before Jongho could answer, hurried footsteps echoed outside the room.

All four men looked toward the door immediately.

Then the doors burst open.

Mingi stormed inside, breathing harder than usual, his expression darker than Jongho had seen in a long time.

Behind him came several knights. And between them was Hana.

Held tightly by the arms despite how violently she struggled against them.

Jongho stared.

Confusion struck first. Then immediate suspicion.

“What is this?”

His voice cut sharply through the room.

Mingi looked furious.

Before he could speak Hana laughed.

The sound was ugly. Twisted in a way Jongho had never heard from her before.

“My king,” she said mockingly, her eyes bright with something venomous. “Would you not like to see your lovely wife?”

The room stilled instantly.

Jongho’s blood ran cold. Every muscle in his body locked at once.

“What happened?”

This time his voice was quieter. Far more dangerous.

Mingi stepped forward immediately. “She attacked the queen.”

The words hit like a blade directly through his chest.

For a second Jongho could not move. Could not breathe.

“What?”

“She lured her into the gardens,” Mingi continued quickly. “She tried to abduct her. The queen escaped and ran toward the training grounds.”

Jongho’s heart pounded violently now.

Too fast.

In his mind he already saw it…

Y/n running.

Terrified. Hurt. Alone.

Mingi kept speaking. “She was struck in the leg by a thrown knife before we reached her.”

Jongho moved before he fully registered doing so.

His chair crashed backward violently as he stormed toward the door.

Toward her.

Nothing else mattered.

Behind him Hana laughed again.

“You should have seen her scream your name,” she called after him. “Your precious little wife looked so afraid—”

Jongho stopped. The entire room changed.

Even the air itself seemed to tighten.

Slowly he turned back.

The darkness on his face made Yunho straighten immediately.

Hana’s smile faltered slightly.

For the first time fear touched her expression.

Jongho walked toward her.

The knights holding her shifted uneasily.

“H-His Majesty—”

Jongho ignored them. He stopped directly in front of her.

And grabbed her throat.

Hana gasped violently as his hand tightened instantly, forcing her upward slightly despite the knights still restraining her.

The room remained silent. Nobody moved.

Because they had all seen this side of him before. The side the kingdom feared.

Jongho’s face remained terrifyingly calm.

Which made the rage beneath it infinitely worse.

“You,” he said quietly, tightening his grip further when she tried to pull away, “should pray.”

Hana clawed weakly at his wrist.

“You should pray,” he repeated, his voice lowering further, “that my wife survives this.”

Her face began losing color.

The knights looked increasingly uncomfortable.

Mingi himself looked ready to kill her.

Jongho released her suddenly.

Hana collapsed coughing violently against the soldiers holding her upright.

He looked at none of them again.

Only turned and walked out.

The corridors blurred around him.

Servants flattened themselves against walls as he passed, his pace bordering on reckless now.

His thoughts spiraled violently.

He should have listened to his instincts. He should have guarded her more closely.

He should have…

No.

She would be alive. She had to be.

He reached their chambers and shoved the doors open so hard they struck the wall.

The sight inside nearly stopped his heart.

Y/n lay unconscious on the bed.

Her dress had been ruined, blood staining the torn fabric near her leg in dark crimson streaks. Her face looked pale beneath the candlelight, strands of hair clinging messily to her skin.

Too pale.

Doctors surrounded her, speaking over one another in tense voices while bloody cloths piled nearby.

Jongho crossed the room immediately.

“What is happening?”

The physicians startled visibly at his tone.

One of them straightened quickly. “Your Majesty, the knife caused significant tearing to the muscle and skin. We must stitch the wound closed but—”

“But what?”

The man hesitated.

“The scar will likely remain severe.”

Jongho stared at him. As if he had just spoken another language entirely.

The physician swallowed.

“We thought perhaps Her Majesty would prefer we proceed more cautiously to minimize—”

“Are you stupid?”

The room froze. Jongho stepped closer, fury flashing across his face openly now.

“SEW HER LEG TOGETHER.”

His voice echoed violently through the room. “I do not care about a scar.”

The doctors immediately moved again.

Nobody dared hesitate further.

Jongho turned back toward the bed.

And for the first time since entering he really looked at her.

Shock settled heavily into him.

Because she looked fragile.

This was the woman who argued with him over chess boards and mocked him without fear. The woman who laughed too loudly sometimes and curled against him in her sleep like she belonged there.

Seeing her unmoving like this felt wrong in a way he could barely endure.

His hand reached for hers immediately.

One of the physicians began cleaning the wound again while another prepared the stitching thread.

Then Y/n screamed.

Her body jerked violently awake from the sudden pain, panic flooding instantly into her expression as she tried to sit up.

“Wait—!”

The doctor reached for her.

She cried out again when they touched her leg.

Jongho moved immediately. “I’m here.”

His hands caught her carefully, pulling her against him despite the physicians protesting that she should remain still.

Her breathing was ragged. Tears filled her eyes instantly from the pain.

“It hurts—”

“I know.”

Jongho held her tighter.

His hand moved into her hair instinctively, steadying her against his chest while the physicians resumed their work carefully.

“You’re safe,” he whispered.

Her fingers clutched desperately at his shirt.

“It hurts,” she repeated weakly.

The sound nearly destroyed him.

“I know,” he said again softly, pressing his lips briefly against her forehead. “I know, my love.”

Another stitch.

Y/n cried out sharply and buried her face against his neck immediately.

Jongho’s jaw tightened violently. Every instinct in him screamed to stop this. To make them stop hurting her.

But the wound had to be closed.

So instead he held her tighter while she trembled against him.

“You’re doing well,” he murmured quietly. “Just a little longer.”

Her breathing shook unevenly.

He could feel tears soaking into his collar.

“I thought…” she whispered brokenly. “I thought she would take me away…”

Jongho closed his eyes briefly. Rage surged again instantly at the image.

Hana near her. Touching her. Threatening her.

His grip tightened unconsciously.

“You are here now,” he said firmly. “Nobody is taking you anywhere.”

Another painful stitch. She gasped sharply against him.

“I hate this,” she whispered miserably.

The words were so genuinely upset that despite everything—

Something in his chest softened painfully.

“You may complain about it as much as you wish afterward.”

A weak sound left her. Halfway between a laugh and a cry.

The doctors continued carefully.

Every second felt unbearable.

Jongho never let go of her once. Not even when she nearly crushed his hand from pain. Not even when exhaustion finally began overtaking panic and her body started trembling less violently against him.

When the final stitch was tied, the physicians stepped back carefully.

“It is done, Your Majesty.”

Jongho barely looked at them. His attention remained entirely on her.

Y/n looked exhausted now, her eyes heavy despite the lingering tears clinging to her lashes.

Still she looked at him.

Focused on him immediately despite everything else.

“You’re okay,” she whispered weakly.

The words stunned him.

Even now, after everything she was worrying about him.

Jongho brushed her hair carefully away from her face.

“I should be asking you that.”

Her lips trembled slightly. “I was scared.”

Something in him cracked at that confession.

Because he knew. Knew exactly how frightened she must have been.

And he had not been there.

The guilt settled heavily into his chest.

“I’m sorry.”

She blinked slowly. “What?”

“I should have protected you.”

The words came rougher than intended.

“I told you not to go into the gardens and still failed to ensure your safety.”

Her expression softened immediately.“That’s not your fault.”

“It is.”

“It isn’t.”

Even injured, exhausted, and pale, she still argued with him.

The realization almost made him smile.

Instead he lowered his forehead briefly against hers.

“You terrified me.”

Her breath caught softly at the honesty in his voice.

Then her hand lifted weakly to his face.

“I’m here.”

Yes. She was. And suddenly that felt like the only thing holding him together.

Y/n slept not long after the stitching was finished.

One moment she had still been clutching weakly at his shirt, her breathing uneven from pain and exhaustion, and the next her body simply gave out beneath the strain of it all.

The physicians assured him it was normal. That her body had endured too much stress in too little time.

Jongho almost threw them all out anyway. Instead, he remained beside her bed long after everyone else had left the room.

The candles burned lower as the night stretched on, shadows shifting softly across the walls while silence settled heavily around him.

Y/n slept without moving. Her face had regained some color, though not enough to ease the tightness in his chest every time he looked at her. The bandages around her leg had been freshly changed, the injury hidden beneath layers of clean fabric that somehow made it no less horrifying in his mind.

Because he had seen it.

Seen the blood.

Seen the knife embedded in her leg.

Seen the terror on her face when she woke screaming from the stitching.

And worst of all he had seen how close he had come to losing her.

Jongho sat beside the bed with one hand wrapped carefully around hers, his thumb brushing absentmindedly across her knuckles while his thoughts spiraled endlessly through everything that could have happened.

Everything that almost did.

He lowered her hand slightly and pressed a soft kiss against her skin.

Then another.

The gesture had become instinctive over the last two days. He barely realized he was doing it anymore.

The physicians had noticed, though. So had Seonghwa.

Hongjoong outright smirked the first time he saw it.

Jongho ignored them all. Because none of them understood the weight pressing against his chest every time she so much as shifted in pain.

The door opened quietly behind him.

One of the royal physicians stepped inside, careful not to disturb the silence too much.

Jongho looked up immediately. “How is she?”

The older man bowed slightly before approaching the bed.

“Her fever has lowered, Your Majesty. That is a good sign.”

Good. Not enough.But good.

The physician hesitated briefly while checking Y/n’s pulse again.

“There is… another matter.”

Jongho’s body tensed instantly. “What?”

“We cannot confirm it yet,” the physician said carefully. “But it is possible Her Majesty may be with child.”

Everything inside Jongho stopped.

The room. The silence. Even his breathing.

“What?”

The physician lowered his gaze respectfully. “The symptoms align with early pregnancy. Given recent events, we hesitated to mention it before having more certainty.”

Jongho stared at him.

Then slowly his eyes dropped to Y/n.

Still asleep. Still pale. Still holding onto life by sheer stubbornness alone.

And now possibly carrying his child.

Something sharp and terrifying moved through his chest immediately.

Protectiveness. Fear. Wonder.

All at once.

His fingers tightened carefully around hers.

The physician continued quietly. “We will know more within the coming days.”

Jongho barely heard him.

His attention remained fixed entirely on her.

A child. His child. Their child.

The thought settled heavily into him.

Not unpleasantly.

Just overwhelmingly.

The physician eventually excused himself quietly, leaving Jongho alone again.

He remained seated beside the bed.

His gaze tracing every detail of her face.

Then slowly, almost reverently, he lifted her hand again and pressed another kiss to her knuckles.

“You are making this very difficult for me,” he murmured softly.

She did not wake.

Three days later, Jongho stood beneath the cold stone ceilings of the palace prison.

The air smelled of iron and dampness, the distant sound of dripping water echoing through the narrow corridors while torchlight flickered unevenly against the walls.

San walked beside him. Mingi slightly behind.

Neither spoke.

Because they all knew why they were here.

And none of them were in the mood for words.

Yeosang had remained behind with Y/n.

Jongho trusted him more than anyone else to protect her if necessary.

Especially now. Especially after what the physicians had told him.

His jaw tightened immediately at the thought.

Nobody was touching her again.

The prison doors opened further ahead.

Wooyoung already stood inside one of the cells, leaning casually against the bars despite the tension radiating through the room.

Hana sat chained against the wall, her head lowered at first, strands of dirty hair falling across her bruised face. One of her wrists was stained red where the iron restraints had rubbed her skin raw, and dried blood marked the corner of her mouth.

She looked ruined.

The moment she heard Jongho step into the cell, she lifted her head slowly.

And smiled. It was a horrible expression now.

Broken. Unstable. Still smug somehow.

“You came back,” she rasped softly.

Wooyoung pushed himself away from the bars, arms crossed tightly over his chest. “She still refuses to speak.”

Hana laughed weakly.

“She will talk eventually,” Wooyoung continued flatly. “Usually just insults.”

Mingi scoffed from the doorway. “Let me handle her for five minutes.”

“No,” Jongho said quietly.

That single word silenced the room immediately.

Because there was something wrong with his voice. Something too calm.

Jongho stepped further into the cell slowly, stopping directly in front of Hana.

She looked up at him through swollen eyes.And still smiled.

“How is your queen?” she asked softly. “Still crying?”

The chain around Hana’s throat tightened suddenly as Jongho grabbed it and jerked her forward violently.

The sound she made was half gasp, half choke.

“You tried to take my wife.” His voice remained low.

Which made it infinitely more terrifying.

Hana coughed harshly, trying to straighten slightly despite the chain biting into her neck. “She looked so frightened,” she whispered. “I didn’t think royals could scream like tha—”

Jongho tightened the chain harder. Hard enough that she gagged.

Mingi watched with frightening satisfaction. San remained silent near the entrance, though the tightness in his jaw betrayed how furious he still was.

“You will tell me who ordered this.”

Hana smiled again despite the tears gathering painfully in her eyes from the pressure around her throat.

“And if I don’t?”

Jongho released the chain suddenly.

Hana collapsed forward coughing violently. The room stayed quiet while she struggled to breathe.

Then Jongho crouched in front of her.

His gaze remained fixed entirely on her face.

“We found your family.”

That got her attention.

Her breathing faltered slightly.

Jongho noticed immediately.

“There are five of them,” he continued quietly. “Your mother. Your father. Two younger brothers.”

Hana stared at him now.

The smile fading slowly.

“And your sister.”

Silence.

“She is twelve,” Jongho said softly.

Hana’s jaw tightened.

“She cries easily.”

For the first time something flickered behind her eyes.

Jongho leaned slightly closer. “If you continue refusing to speak,” he said quietly, “I will begin with your youngest brother.”

Hana swallowed hard despite herself.

“He is what?” Jongho continued softly. “Eight?”

She glared at him immediately. “Don’t touch them.”

“There is a small knife used by palace physicians,” Jongho went on calmly, ignoring her interruption completely. “Very sharp. Very thin.”

The room felt colder suddenly. Even Wooyoung stopped leaning casually against the wall.

“With it,” Jongho continued, his voice almost conversational now, “I can remove pieces of him slowly enough to keep him alive for several hours.”

Hana’s breathing quickened.

Mingi stared at Jongho briefly. Even he looked slightly unsettled now.

Jongho never looked away from Hana. “I think I will start with his fingers.”

“No.”

The word left her immediately.

Panicked.

Jongho continued speaking anyway. “One by one.”

“Stop.”

“Then perhaps his hands entirely.”

“You’re lying.”

Jongho tilted his head slightly. Amusement flickered briefly across his face.

“You know I am not.”

That was the problem. Everyone in the room knew he wasn’t.

Hana looked away first.

Her body trembled slightly now.

Jongho leaned closer still.

“And after him,” he whispered quietly, “I will move to your younger sister.”

Hana’s head snapped back toward him immediately.

“No.”

“She is very cute,” Jongho continued softly. “I imagine she would remain cute even while screaming.”

“STOP.”

Her voice cracked violently.

Jongho’s expression never changed.

“I will carve her apart slowly enough,” he said quietly, “that your mother will hear every sound.”

Tears gathered instantly in Hana’s eyes now.

“You monster.”

Jongho smiled slightly. A terrible expression.

“Your queen called me worse once.”

Hana shook violently against the chains now.

“You touched my wife.”

The room fell completely silent.

“She woke screaming in pain because of you.”

Hana cried openly now, shaking her head desperately.

“You don’t understand—”

“No,” Jongho interrupted quietly. “You do not understand.”

His voice lowered further.

“If my wife dies…” his eyes remained fixed entirely on hers, “your family will beg for death long before I allow it.”

Hana looked genuinely horrified now.

Jongho continued anyway.

“I will keep your parents alive long enough to watch every one of their children die first.”

“Please—”

“And afterward,” he whispered, “I will return to you.”

Her breathing became ragged.

“I will remove your eyes first.”

Mingi stared. San looked away entirely now.

Even Wooyoung’s face had gone completely blank.

Jongho remained terrifyingly calm.

“You will hear everything,” he continued softly. “Your family screaming. Your brothers begging for their mother.”

Something inside Hana finally broke.

The fight drained slowly from her face, leaving behind exhaustion and hopelessness so deep it almost looked hollow.

Tears rolled silently down her bruised cheeks now.

“You don’t understand,” she whispered weakly.

Jongho’s expression did not change.

“They already won.”

Silence settled heavily into the room.

Hana lifted her bloodshot eyes toward him again.

This time there was no madness in them.

Only despair.

“The queen was never meant to die quickly,” she murmured. “That would make her a martyr.”

Jongho stilled.

Cold spread instantly through his chest.

“What are you talking about?”

Hana swallowed hard.

“The kingdom needs instability,” she whispered. “Fear. War. If the queen dies slowly after being attacked inside your own palace…” Her lips trembled weakly. “Her people will blame you.”

No one in the room moved.

“The alliance breaks,” she continued quietly. “Your kingdoms turn against each other again. And while everyone fights…” Her gaze lowered weakly. “The throne becomes vulnerable.”

Jongho felt something dark and violent rise instantly inside him.

“What did you do?”

Hana closed her eyes briefly. “The head physicians.”

Mingi cursed immediately.

Hana continued speaking anyway, her voice distant now.

„They wereinstructed to poison her slowly while treating the wound.” A weak breath left her. “Fever. Weakness. Organ failure eventually.”

San moved first toward the door.

Jongho’s entire body locked violently.

“When?”

Hana looked at him again.

And for the first time she looked afraid for him.

“He’s probably with her already.”

Silence exploded.

Jongho stood so quickly the chair behind him crashed backward violently.

No.

No no no…

He turned immediately.

Hana’s weak voice followed behind him one last time.

“If you run now…” she whispered hoarsely, “you might still make it before she dies.”

Jongho had never run this fast through his own palace before.

The corridors blurred around him, servants flattening themselves against the walls in panic as he stormed past. His heartbeat pounded violently in his ears, drowning out almost everything else.

Too late.

The words repeated endlessly in his mind.

Too late.

Every possible image forced itself into his thoughts no matter how hard he tried to stop them. Y/n pale and motionless. Her breathing gone. Her body cold.

No.

His chest tightened painfully.

She was alive. She had to be.

Jongho reached the corridor leading to their chambers and nearly collided with San, Mingi, and Wooyoung following closely behind him.

Nobody spoke.

Because the fear between them had become something tangible now.

The doors to their chambers stood open.

Jongho stormed inside.

And stopped.

For one horrifying second all he saw was blood.

Dark red staining the floorboards in violent streaks, spreading so heavily across the room that his mind immediately reached the worst conclusion possible.

Y/n.

His heart nearly stopped.

Then he saw movement.

Yeosang stood near the bed, breathing unevenly, sword still in hand. Blood covered his clothing and dripped steadily from the blade onto the floor beneath him.

Not his blood. Not Y/n’s.

The physicians.

Three bodies lay scattered across the room. One near the overturned table. Another slumped against the wall.

And the third, still barely alive on the floor, choking weakly through blood bubbling from his mouth.

Jongho moved instantly toward the bed.

Y/n still lay there. Alive.

His knees almost gave out from relief.

Her chest still rose and fell.

“What happened?” His voice came out rough.

Yeosang lowered the sword slowly, his expression darker than Jongho had seen in a long time.

“One of them prepared another injection,” he said quietly. “I noticed they became nervous when I asked what it contained.”

Jongho’s jaw tightened violently.

Yeosang continued. “When I tried to stop them, two attacked me.” His gaze flickered briefly toward the dead physicians. “The third attempted to force the poison into the queen anyway.”

Jongho looked toward the surviving physician on the floor.

Rage flooded him immediately.

The man coughed violently, blood staining his chin while he tried weakly to crawl backward.

Jongho crossed the room slowly. Terrifyingly calm.

The physician looked up at him and immediately began trembling.

“Please—”

Jongho grabbed him by the collar and dragged him upward hard enough to make the man scream.

“Why?”

The physician cried out weakly. “We had no choice!”

Jongho slammed him against the floor again. “WHY?”

The man coughed violently.

“They promised us positions in the new court!” he gasped desperately. “A new king, a new kingdom, more power—”

Mingi looked disgusted. “You poisoned the queen for that?”

The physician shook uncontrollably now.

“We were told it would be slow,” he whispered. “No one would suspect immediately—”

A horrible sound interrupted him.

Jongho turned instantly.

Y/n’s body jerked violently against the bed. Her back arched sharply as her hands clenched painfully into the sheets, her breathing suddenly ragged and uneven.

“Y/n!”

Jongho released the physician immediately and rushed back to her side.

Her entire body trembled violently now, muscles tightening painfully while her breathing became broken gasps.

No. No no no.

“Do something!” Jongho barked toward the remaining healers rushing into the room behind them.

But nobody moved. Nobody knew what to do.

The poison had already spread.

Y/n cried out weakly, her body spasming again.

Jongho grabbed her immediately, trying to steady her even though panic had begun clawing violently through his chest.

“Look at me,” he whispered desperately. “Y/n, look at me.”

Her eyes fluttered weakly but unfocused entirely.

Fear unlike anything he had ever known settled deep into his bones.

He could fight kingdoms. Wars. Assassins.

But this…this helplessness threatened to destroy him.

Another violent spasm tore through her body.

Jongho’s breathing became uneven.

He had no idea how to stop this.

And for the first time in years, he was terrified.

Then a small voice spoke behind them.

“I know what poison this is.”

Everyone turned immediately.

A young girl slowly emerged from behind one of the large armchairs near the fireplace, her face pale with fear. She could not have been older than fourteen.

Jongho frowned sharply. “Who are you?”

The girl swallowed hard.

“I help in the kitchens sometimes,” she whispered nervously. “I brought fresh towels earlier and hid when the fighting started.”

Yeosang lowered his sword slightly.

The girl looked toward Y/n immediately, fear flashing across her face.

“My parents are apothecaries,” she said quickly. “I’ve seen this poison before.”

Hope hit Jongho so violently it almost hurt. “You can help her?”

The girl nodded shakily. “I think so.”

“Then do it.”

She startled slightly at the harshness in his voice before quickly nodding again.

“I need herbs from the kitchens. And hot water.”

Servants moved immediately.

The girl rushed toward the table, hands trembling slightly as she began sorting through the remaining medicinal supplies left by the dead physicians.

Jongho stayed beside Y/n the entire time, holding her tightly while her body continued shaking weakly against him.

“You’re alright,” he whispered repeatedly, though he was no longer sure whether he was trying to convince her or himself.

The girl returned quickly with herbs clutched tightly in her arms.

She worked fast. Far faster than someone her age should have been capable of.

Grinding leaves. Mixing powders. Crushing herbs together into steaming liquid while everyone in the room watched in suffocating silence.

Finally, she lifted the small cup carefully.

Jongho’s eyes narrowed immediately. “How do I know that isn’t poison too?”

The girl froze briefly.

Then without hesitation, she lifted the cup and drank from it herself.

The room went completely silent.

The girl swallowed.

Then handed the cup back toward him with shaking hands.

“If I wanted to hurt the queen,” she whispered quietly, “I would have stayed hidden.”

Jongho stared at her for one long second. Then nodded once.

He carefully lifted Y/n slightly while the girl helped pour the antidote slowly between her lips.

At first nothing happened.

Then suddenly Y/n’s body jerked once more.

Jongho tightened his hold instantly.

The trembling stopped. Silence filled the room.

Y/n’s breathing slowly steadied.

Her body relaxed weakly against him instead of convulsing.

The relief that hit Jongho was so overwhelming it nearly made him dizzy.

He lowered his forehead briefly against hers and closed his eyes for a moment.

Alive.

When he finally looked up again, his gaze found the young girl still standing nearby, visibly terrified now that everything had settled.

“What is your name?”

The girl blinked. “Ara, Your Majesty.”

Jongho looked at her for a long moment. Then slowly stood.

“Ara,” he said quietly, “would you and your parents like a new position in this palace?”

Her eyes widened immediately. “What?”

“You saved the queen’s life.” His voice remained calm now, though the emotion beneath it lingered heavily. “I would prefer healers who value lives more than power.”

The girl looked stunned.

Then emotional. And finally nodded quickly.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

For the first time since entering the room, Jongho almost smiled.

The first thing Y/n remembered clearly was Jongho’s voice.

Not the poison. Not the pain. Not even the terror in the garden.

Everything surrounding those moments had become blurred and fractured in her memory, broken apart into flashes that no longer connected properly. Sometimes she remembered cold hands holding her still. Sometimes the feeling of her body burning from the inside out. Sometimes panic clawing through her while voices echoed somewhere far away.

But through all of it there had always been him.

His voice.

Low.

Steady.

Soft in a way she had never heard before meeting him.

Even now, weeks later, she still remembered waking briefly in the middle of the night only to find him sitting beside her bed, his fingers wrapped around hers while exhaustion pulled at his face.

He had stayed.

Every time she opened her eyes.

The realization still made something warm settle deep in her chest.

Y/n adjusted the blanket over her legs slightly before leaning back against the mountain of pillows behind her. Her body still felt weak much too often, her leg aching whenever she moved too much, but compared to before she felt alive again.

The room smelled faintly of herbs and flowers now instead of blood and medicine. Sunlight spilled softly through the windows, warming the quiet atmosphere while voices moved gently around her.

Ara’s mother fussed with the blankets again.

“Your Majesty, you should not sit upright for too long.”

“I’m not dying anymore,” Y/n muttered.

The small woman gasped softly as if scandalized.

“You must not say things like that.”

Y/n smiled faintly despite herself.

Ara’s mother, Mina, had become impossible to dislike.

She was small and endlessly busy, always adjusting pillows or blankets or bringing tea Y/n had not asked for. Unlike Hana, her care felt warm rather than practiced, genuine in a way that soothed something raw inside Y/n she had not realized still hurt.

Ara herself sat near the window carefully organizing herbs while her father stood beside the bed.

Doctor Lee was a handsome man despite the gray beginning to streak through his dark hair. There was something calm about him, something steady that made the entire room feel safer whenever he entered.

He checked Y/n’s pulse gently before nodding slightly.

“You look stronger today.”

Y/n smiled softly. “That’s because Mina keeps trying to feed me enough for three people.”

Mina looked offended immediately. “You are carrying a child.”

“A child the size of a grape,” Y/n replied.

Ara snorted softly near the window before trying to hide it.

Doctor Lee smiled faintly. “Even grapes require strength.”

Y/n sighed dramatically, though warmth spread through her chest despite herself.

They had become something strangely close to family over the past weeks.

Perhaps because they had saved her. Perhaps because they had stayed.

Or perhaps because after everything that happened, Y/n no longer wanted distance from people who genuinely cared for her.

A knock sounded softly at the door. Before anyone answered, it opened.

Jongho entered immediately.

Y/n’s chest tightened the moment she saw him.

It still happened every time.

Ridiculous, honestly.

Especially now that she had spent weeks mostly confined to bed with him hovering constantly nearby whenever his duties allowed it.

And yet there he was.

Still beautiful. Still carrying that quiet authority that made entire rooms shift around him effortlessly.

Though lately, whenever he looked at her, that coldness people feared seemed to disappear entirely.

His gaze found her immediately. Softened instantly.

Doctor Lee stepped back slightly. “Your Majesty.”

“How is she?”

Jongho crossed the room quickly, his attention entirely fixed on Y/n while he spoke.

“She continues improving well,” Doctor Lee answered calmly. “The poison appears completely gone from her system now.”

Relief flickered briefly across Jongho’s face.

Even now. Weeks later.

As if some part of him still expected her to suddenly disappear if he looked away too long.

“And the child?” Jongho asked quietly.

Doctor Lee smiled faintly. “Strong.”

Something in Jongho visibly eased at that. Y/n noticed it immediately.

Doctor Lee glanced toward his wife and daughter. “We should allow Her Majesty to rest.”

Mina immediately moved to straighten another blanket before Ara dragged her gently toward the door despite the older woman’s quiet protests.

The room slowly emptied. Until only Jongho and Y/n remained.

The silence that settled afterward felt comfortable.

Warm.

Jongho crossed the remaining distance toward the bed before sitting carefully beside her.

As if by instinct.

He lifted it slowly, pressing a soft kiss against her fingers. Then another against her knuckles.

Y/n smiled faintly. “You do that a lot now.”

“I know.”

His answer came easily. Without embarrassment.

That still surprised her sometimes.

Jongho looked at her quietly for a moment before leaning closer and pressing a gentle kiss against her lips.

When he pulled back slightly, his forehead rested briefly against hers.

“I’m happy to see you awake.”

The honesty in his voice made her chest ache.

Y/n smiled softly. “Thank you.”

His brows pulled together slightly. “For what?”

“For staying.”

The words slipped out quietly.

But she meant them completely.

Because even in the fog of pain and fever, she remembered him.

His hands. His voice. The feeling of him beside her every single time she woke.

Something emotional flickered briefly across his face before he kissed her hand again.

“As if there was anywhere else I would be.”

Y/n’s eyes stung slightly. She looked away before she could embarrass herself.

And instead, she pulled the blanket down slightly over her stomach.

Jongho’s gaze immediately dropped.

The small curve there was still subtle. But unmistakable now.

Y/n touched it gently. Almost shyly.

“I still can’t believe it,” she whispered softly.

Jongho looked back up at her.

“That there’s really a little human growing inside me.”

A soft laugh escaped her.

“We made a person.”

The amusement in her voice made something warm flicker through Jongho’s expression.

Y/n’s hand remained over the small bump protectively.

“I’m so happy our baby survived.”

Jongho’s expression softened immediately. His hand covered hers carefully.

“I am too.”

Then quieter. “But you surviving mattered more to me.”

Y/n looked up at him immediately.

Jongho’s thumb brushed gently across her hand resting over their child.

“Though,” he added softly, “I am happy there is already a little fighter in there.”

Y/n smiled faintly. “You think so?”

His gaze lingered on her stomach.

Then softened strangely. “Yes.”

“Why?”

A small smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.

“I think it’s a girl.”

Y/n blinked. “What?”

“It’s just a feeling.”

She stared at him for a moment before laughing softly.

“You sound absurdly confident for someone guessing.”

“I’m rarely wrong.”

“That is objectively untrue. I’ve beaten you at chess seventeen times.”

“Nineteen,” he corrected automatically.

Y/n grinned immediately. Then paused.

“Nineteen?”

Jongho realized his mistake too late.

Her grin widened triumphantly. “You counted.”

He looked away slightly.

Y/n laughed harder. “I cannot believe you counted—”

Jongho kissed her suddenly.

Probably to stop her talking.

It worked.

When he pulled away again, she still looked far too pleased with herself.

A knock interrupted them.

Before either answered, the door opened. All seven entered.

And immediately filled the room with noise.

Wooyoung pointed instantly at them. “You were kissing.”

Y/n nearly choked.

Hongjoong looked deeply entertained already.

“We interrupted something.”

“Leave,” Jongho said flatly.

“No,” Mingi replied immediately.

San stepped forward holding something behind his back while Yeosang smiled faintly near the doorway.

“We actually came for the queen.”

Y/n blinked in surprise. “Me?”

Yunho nodded enthusiastically. “You’ve been trapped in this room forever.”

“Because she almost died,” Jongho replied coldly.

“Exactly,” Wooyoung said brightly. “Which means she deserves a reward for surviving.”

Y/n laughed softly. Then San finally revealed what he had been hiding.

Flowers.

Her breath caught immediately.

Small pale blossoms tied carefully together with ribbon.

Flowers from home. Realizing it made her chest ache instantly.

“How did you—”

Hongjoong smiled lightly. “Trade routes.”

“We may have threatened several merchants,” Wooyoung added proudly.

“That was mostly Mingi,” Yunho corrected.

Mingi looked unapologetic.

Y/n stared at the flowers for another second before looking back at them with visibly emotional eyes.

“You idiots,” she whispered softly.

“We know,” Seonghwa said warmly.

Then Yeosang stepped forward slightly.

“We thought perhaps Her Majesty would like a small walk in the gardens.”

Jongho’s expression darkened immediately.

Absolutely not.

Y/n looked at him instantly. And pouted.

The seven men immediately pretended not to notice.

Jongho sighed slowly. Already defeated.

The seven noticed immediately.

Wooyoung grinned. “That sounded dangerously close to agreement.”

“It was not.”

“It absolutely was,” Yunho replied.

Y/n looked between them with barely concealed amusement before turning back toward Jongho with her most innocent expression.

“Please?”

Jongho stared at her.

“You are not walking far.”

Victory lit up her face instantly. And suddenly every man in the room understood exactly how the king kept losing arguments to his wife.

“She wins too easily,” Mingi muttered quietly to San.

“Every time,” San agreed.

The afternoon air was warm.

Not overly hot yet, but carrying the softness of approaching summer through the palace gardens. Birds chirped somewhere deeper within the trees while sunlight spilled gold across the stone paths beneath their feet.

Y/n walked slowly. Partially because Jongho insisted on it. Mostly because the seven men around her behaved as though she might collapse if she breathed too quickly.

“I can walk by myself,” she complained lightly after Yunho offered his arm for the third time.

“Yes, but His Majesty threatened us before leaving.”

Y/n looked toward Hongjoong immediately. “He did not.”

“He absolutely did,” Wooyoung answered. “‘If she trips over a rock, I will bury all of you beneath it.’”

“That sounds dramatic even for him,” Y/n muttered.

“It wasn’t dramatic,” Mingi corrected. “It sounded genuine.”

Y/n laughed softly. The sound immediately eased something in the atmosphere around them.

Because for weeks now, everyone had been afraid.

Afraid she would stop breathing again.

Afraid she would not wake up.

Even now, she could still feel it sometimes in the way Jongho watched her when he thought she wasn’t noticing.

As if he still needed visual proof she remained alive.

The thought made her chest ache softly.

“We’re almost there,” Yeosang said gently from beside her.

Y/n looked up.

Then stopped walking entirely.

The center of the garden had changed.

Beautifully.

A wide section near the fountains had been cleared and redesigned completely, soft stone paths weaving carefully between flowerbeds she recognized immediately.

Her breath caught. “No way…”

Small green buds had begun blooming across the garden beds, delicate stems swaying lightly in the breeze.

Flowers from her homeland.

Not fully bloomed yet.

But unmistakable.

Y/n stepped closer slowly, emotion rising unexpectedly fast in her chest as she stared at them.

“How…”

“We found gardeners familiar with the climate,” Seonghwa explained quietly.

“And imported seeds,” Hongjoong added.

“That took forever,” Wooyoung complained.

“Mingi almost threatened another merchant.”

“I did threaten another merchant.”

Y/n laughed breathlessly through the tears suddenly stinging her eyes.

Because they remembered.

All of them.

The flowers were arranged carefully around a large stone table positioned beneath the shade of a tree.

Her eyes widened immediately.

A chess table.

Beautifully carved into pale stone, polished pieces already resting in place as though waiting for players.

Y/n turned slowly.

Toward Jongho.

He looked embarrassed. Which almost never happened.

His hand rubbed awkwardly against the back of his neck before he looked slightly away.

“I thought,” he began quietly, “that perhaps during summer…”

The others immediately went silent.

Jongho cleared his throat slightly. “We could play chess here.”

Y/n stared at him.

Then at the table.

Then back at him.

And suddenly her chest felt so painfully full she thought she might burst from it.

Because this man, this terrifying king feared across kingdoms, had built her a garden from home.

And a chess table.

Just so she would smile.

“Oh my god.”

Before Jongho could react properly, Y/n threw herself at him.

He barely caught her before she collided fully into his chest.

“Y/n— careful—”

She kissed him before he could finish speaking.

Hard enough that he nearly lost balance entirely.

The seven immediately broke into laughter.

“Your Majesty is under attack again,” Wooyoung announced dramatically.

“She’s definitely his wife,” Mingi muttered.

Y/n barely heard them.

She kissed Jongho again, laughing breathlessly against his lips while happiness practically radiated from her entire body.

“You made this for me?”

Jongho’s hands settled instinctively around her waist.

“Yes.”

“All of this?”

“Yes.”

Y/n looked genuinely overwhelmed now.

“You ridiculous man.”

Something soft flickered across Jongho’s face as he looked at her.

Then he pulled her gently back against him, wrapping both arms around her carefully from behind while she continued staring at the flowers with shining eyes.

The seven fell quieter watching them.

Fondness settling openly across their expressions.

Because none of them had ever seen Jongho like this before.

This soft.

This openly in love.

Jongho lowered his head slightly toward Y/n’s ear.

And quietly enough that only she could hear…“I love you.”

The words wrapped around her more warmly than the sunlight itself.

Y/n closed her eyes briefly, smiling so brightly it almost hurt.

Then leaned back further into his arms.

Completely happy.

Epilogue

Three and a half years later.

The garden had fully bloomed.

Sometimes Y/n still stopped in the middle of the pathways just to look at it properly, still unable to fully believe that something once built from homesickness and longing had become one of the places she loved most in the world.

Flowers from her homeland stretched across the gardens in soft waves of color now, climbing carefully along the stone paths and surrounding the chess table beneath the large tree at the center.

Their tree, Wooyoung called it dramatically.

Mostly because he insisted every important family needed a dramatic symbolic tree.

Y/n sat at the chess table now with a sleeping baby boy curled quietly against her chest, wrapped carefully in soft blankets while sunlight warmed the top of his dark hair.

Her son had Jongho’s eyes.

That fact alone nearly destroyed her every time she looked at him.

A small shriek of excitement suddenly echoed through the garden.

“Mama! LOOK!”

Y/n looked up immediately.

Their daughter stood several steps away near the flowers, holding Ara’s hand while Seonghwa crouched beside her patiently.

At three years old, she already had entirely too much personality.

And unfortunately, most of it came from both of her parents.

“There’s another one!” she announced dramatically, pointing at a tiny insect crawling slowly across a leaf.

Ara laughed softly beside her. “That one is harmless.”

Their daughter gasped quietly. “He’s tiny.”

“He’s very brave for someone tiny,” Seonghwa said seriously.

The little girl nodded immediately, taking this information with complete sincerity.

Y/n smiled helplessly.

“She likes bugs entirely too much,” Hongjoong said from the opposite side of the chess table.

Y/n glanced toward him with amusement.

Hongjoong moved one of the chess pieces lazily before leaning back slightly in his chair.

“To be fair,” he continued thoughtfully, “she gets that from Mingi.”

“That explains a lot actually.”

Hongjoong snorted softly.

The breeze shifted gently through the garden, carrying the scent of flowers and freshly cut grass while the castle remained unusually peaceful around them.

Peaceful.

The word still felt strange sometimes.

Not because peace itself was unfamiliar anymore.

But because happiness had once felt impossible too.

Hongjoong studied her quietly for a moment before shaking his head lightly.

“You know,” he said, “I truly never thought this marriage would end like this.”

Y/n raised a brow slightly. “That sounds concerning.”

“I mean it positively.”

“Wonderful recovery.”

Hongjoong ignored that. “When we first heard about the arrangement, we thought Jongho would tolerate it at best.” His lips twitched slightly. “Instead he ended up painfully in love.”

Y/n grinned immediately.

“Painfully?”

“He’s unbearable.”

“That is true,” she admitted easily.

Hongjoong laughed softly. “But honestly,” he added quieter now, his gaze drifting briefly toward their daughter laughing beside Seonghwa, “I didn’t expect any of us to gain another friend from it either.”

Something warm settled in Y/n’s chest at that.

Because somewhere along the way, the seven had become family too.

Loud.

Chaotic.

Occasionally deeply irritating.

But family nonetheless.

The baby boy stirred softly against her chest then suddenly turned his head.

His small face lit up instantly.

And before Y/n even looked, she already knew.

Tiny hands reached outward immediately. “Da!”

Y/n laughed softly. “You always know when your father appears.”

Hongjoong groaned quietly. “Unfortunately, so do we.”

Y/n looked up.

And there he was.

Jongho crossed the garden toward them, dressed more casually than he would have years ago, though the quiet authority surrounding him remained impossible to miss.

Only now there was warmth beneath it.

Especially when his gaze found her.

His expression softened immediately.

Still.

Even after years.

It still happened every single time.

Y/n’s chest tightened softly at the sight of him.

Jongho stopped beside her first, leaning down automatically to kiss her gently before even acknowledging anyone else.

Hongjoong looked deeply offended.

“You used to greet people normally.”

“No, he didn’t,” Y/n replied.

Jongho ignored both of them entirely.

His attention shifted toward the baby already reaching desperately for him now.

Jongho smiled faintly before carefully lifting their son into his arms.

The baby immediately settled happily against his father’s chest.

Traitor.

“Were you gossiping about me?” Jongho asked calmly while looking toward Hongjoong.

“Yes,” Hongjoong answered immediately.

“Extensively,” Y/n added helpfully.

Jongho sighed softly as if deeply burdened.

The others entered the garden shortly afterward.

Which immediately increased the noise level by at least three times.

Mingi barely had time to fully step into the garden before a tiny blur launched toward him dramatically.

“Mingi!”

Their daughter wrapped herself around his leg enthusiastically.

Mingi grinned instantly. “There’s my favorite tiny person.”

Jongho narrowed his eyes immediately.

Y/n hid her laughter badly.

Their daughter looked up at Mingi with visibly pink cheeks..

“Mingi,” the little girl said very seriously, “did you know there are green insects AND blue insects?”

“Impossible.”

“It’s true!”

Mingi crouched dramatically in front of her while she continued rambling excitedly about bugs, flowers, and apparently a worm she had named yesterday.

The entire time, she looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky.

Y/n pressed her lips together immediately.

Because if she laughed too hard Jongho might actually start a diplomatic incident.

Jongho stared at Mingi.

Mingi slowly looked up.

Then blinked.

“…why are you looking at me like that?”

“Our daughter is blushing.”

The entire garden went silent.

Then exploded.

Wooyoung nearly fell into the grass laughing. Hongjoong buried his face in one hand. Yunho outright wheezed.

Mingi looked horrified. “She’s THREE.”

“She is blushing.”

“She likes bugs!”

“She likes YOU.”

Mingi looked genuinely panicked now while their daughter blinked in confusion at all the yelling.

Y/n finally lost control and started laughing openly.

Even Seonghwa looked seconds away from laughing himself.

“Mingi,” San said helpfully, “I fear His Majesty may challenge you to a duel.”

“I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING.”

Their daughter tugged on Mingi’s sleeve innocently. “What’s a duel?”

“Nothing,” Mingi answered immediately.

“Something,” Wooyoung corrected through tears of laughter.

Jongho continued glaring.

As if Mingi himself had personally orchestrated this betrayal.

Y/n laughed so hard tears gathered in her eyes.

And when she looked toward Jongho again, he was trying not to smile too.

Failing slightly.

And suddenly the sight of all of them together hit her all at once.

The garden. The flowers.Their children. The warmth around her.

This family they somehow built from something that once felt terrifying.

She had walked into this kingdom expecting loneliness.

Instead she found home.

That night, the palace felt quiet again.

Y/n rested comfortably against Jongho in bed while warm candlelight flickered across the room around them.

One of his arms wrapped securely around her waist while her head rested against his chest, listening quietly to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her ear.

Their son finally slept.

Their daughter had exhausted herself after attempting to bring three beetles into dinner.

It had been a long day.

A happy one.

Jongho’s fingers traced absentminded patterns along her side.

“When I see you with them…”

Y/n looked up slightly.

“With the children,” he continued softly, “I start thinking.”

“That sounds dangerous.”

A quiet laugh rumbled beneath her cheek.

“I think about having more.”

Y/n immediately burst into laughter.

Jongho looked mildly offended.

“You don’t sound supportive.”

“You just enjoy making them.”

“That is not true.”

She looked up at him knowingly.

Jongho stared back for exactly two seconds before sighing.

“…that is only a plus point.”

Y/n laughed harder.

Then he pulled her closer suddenly, kissing her softly until her laughter melted into warmth instead.

“I love you,” he murmured quietly against her lips.

The words still affected her every single time.

“I love you too.”

Jongho kissed her again.

Slower this time.

Longer.

And when his hand settled carefully against her waist while he smiled softly against her mouth, Y/n already knew exactly where this conversation was heading.

Honestly.

She wasn’t complaining.

The candles burned lower.

The garden outside remained quiet beneath the moonlight.

And somewhere between laughter, kisses, and whispered I love yous, their family began growing once more.

Main Masterlist | Jonghos Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4