#itzy chaeryoung

[cakedollis]

[inayeonn]

୨୧ chaeryeong (itzy) ͏photos ୨୧

[doesanyonehaveasparelightsaber]

Ryujin: She just doesn’t look like she believes in giving money to the government

Yuna: She would though

Yeji: Yes. She would.

Lia: Okay, but like from leaving a candle burning or playing with a lighter or something

Chaeryoung: Yes

[ickbite]

HERE COMES THE SUN !! — part 1 -> part 2

pairing: SupermansSon!jake sim x BatmanDaughter!Reader

Synopsis: Ironically deciding that you’re too lonely, your dad — Batman — decides to pair you up with Metrapolis’ favorite rising hero, Solaris (aka Son of Superman)!

note: I LOVEEDDD THE NEW SUPERMAN MOVIEEEE also my feet are asleep rn. — enha masterlist

The Watchtower’s observation deck was silent, save for the low, ever-present hum of energy flowing through its systems. Beyond the thick glass, Earth hung like a jewel against the black, spinning slowly and uncaring beneath your boots. It was beautiful—cold, distant, and impossibly alive. Almost like space was mocking you with how small you were.

You didn’t turn when you heard the footsteps behind you. They were measured, deliberate, softened only slightly by the weight of decades spent moving silently through darker places than this. You didn’t have to see him to know it was your father. You could feel him—like gravity pulling tight.

“I’m not stalling,” you said, arms crossed over your chest, gaze fixed on the curve of the planet below. Your voice was steady, but your jaw was locked tight.

There was a pause, followed by the familiar low tone you’d been raised on. “I never said you were.”

His voice didn’t rise. It never did. That was the worst part—it didn’t have to. He didn’t need to raise it to command attention. Every word landed like a weighted throw.

“You’re trying to avoid the briefing,” he continued. “I understand why.”

You turned your head slightly, just enough to catch the sharp outline of the Bat in your periphery. The pointed cowl. The impenetrable armor. The eyes that had never blinked under pressure. He wasn’t your dad right now. He was Batman. He always was.

“If this is about the Gotham recon,” you started, “I already filed my report. I didn’t compromise anything.”

“It’s not about the mission,” he interrupted. “It’s about you.”

That made you face him fully.

Your arms fell to your sides, though your fingers twitched with the urge to cross them again. You hated when he did this—pulled the conversation deeper, cracked open the door to something you weren’t sure you wanted to feel.

“I’m fine,” you said plainly. “I’ve completed every assignment. I haven’t missed a single target in months. I haven’t made one misstep.”

“You’re technically perfect,” he agreed. “But only technically.”

You blinked, unsure whether to feel insulted or challenged. “What does that mean?”

“You’re still treating every mission like it’s Gotham. Like it’s just you, the shadows, and a countdown to detonation.”

“That’s how you trained me,” you shot back. “That’s how you raised me.”

He didn’t deny it. He only stepped closer, slow and sure, his cape whispering over the floor. “And it worked. You’re sharp. Focused. Fearless.”

“Then what’s the problem?” you asked, more sharply than you meant to. You hated the small twinge of defensiveness in your chest. It didn’t belong there.

Batman looked down at you, and for a rare moment, there was no edge to his voice. Just truth.

“You only know how to trust people who fight like you,” he said. “Me. Your brothers. The ones who’ve been trained under the same conditions, the same code.”

You swallowed hard, already knowing where this was going.

“I’ve worked with League members before,” you argued, even though it was mostly true in theory. “Field-level cooperation. Split-second tactics. You’ve seen the debriefs.”

“You don’t let them in,” he said simply. “Not really.”

You clenched your fists, leather creaking slightly. “Because I don’t need to.”

“That’s what I’m worried about.”

You didn’t reply. You hated that he was right. You hated it more that he could see it.

He turned away from the window and walked toward the center of the room. The lights of the Watchtower glinted off his gauntlets like steel in moonlight. His voice was lower now—less Batman, more father.

“I didn’t bring you up to be dependent,” he said. “But I also didn’t raise you to be alone.”

“I’m not alone,” you said quickly. “I have Jay. I have Niki.”

“You have your brothers,” he agreed. “But they’re not always going to be standing in the shadows next to you. And one day, someone else will be. Someone you didn’t grow up trusting. Someone who doesn’t think in perfect silence or know your tells by heart.”

You looked away, biting the inside of your cheek. The silence stretched for too long, and he let it.

“You think that because we move in the dark, we don’t need connection,” he said, softer now. “But even the dark needs anchors.”

You hated how much that line stuck.

He tapped the console beside him, and the holoscreen flared to life. A mission file opened. One name blinked at the top of the screen: Solaris.

You raised your eyes to his. “You’re serious.”

“He’s your assignment.”

“Why him?” The words came fast, sharp, defensive. “Out of everyone in the League—why him?”

“He’s not you,” he said. “And that’s exactly why this will matter.”

You scoffed, turning toward the screen. “He’s a public relations poster boy in a cape. The world adores him. You’ve seen the footage—he flies into danger with zero caution. He smiles at reporters mid-flight. He’s—he’s sunshine.”

“And you’re Gotham,” your father said evenly. “You don’t need someone who thinks like you. You need someone who challenges what you believe about the people you work with.”

You shook your head. “Jay never had to do this. Neither did Niki.”

“Jay had me,” he said. “And Niki had you.”

That made you freeze.

“I’m not punishing you,” he added. “I’m giving you a chance to grow. You’re ready for more than Gotham. More than the family. You’re ready to lead—but only if you can learn to lead someone who doesn’t already follow your rhythm.”

You stared at Solaris’s name on the screen. Your jaw tightened. “If he gets in my way, I won’t hesitate.”

Your father’s eyes met yours without flinching. “Then I hope you’ll learn not to see him as a threat.”

You stood in the central command room, fully suited. Your armor was matte-black and reinforced. Every strap was in place. Every motion was silent. You were ready to move. Ready for a mission—not for conversation.

The doors slid open behind you with a soft hydraulic hiss. The air shifted.

He entered like a warm current rolling into a frozen room.

Solaris.

His cape swayed behind him, a blend of gold and deep navy, bright against the sterile grays of the Watchtower. His hair was windswept like he’d flown through a jetstream and liked the way it looked. And of course, he was smiling—boyish and too damn bright.

“You must be Omen,” he said, voice casual, but full of awe. “Wow. You’re… way more intimidating in person. Which is honestly impressive because the files were already terrifying.”

You didn’t blink. “You’re late.”

“Was helping redirect a falling satellite,” he replied with a shrug, like it was just a small side task. “Didn’t want it crashing into Norway. Figured I’d get points for that.”

Batman stood beside you, silent, observing.

Solaris finally glanced at him, a bit more nervous now. “This is the part where you tell me I’m lucky to work with her, right?”

Your father’s voice was dry. “No. This is the part where I tell her not to throw you off the side of the Watchtower.”

You didn’t even look at Solaris when you said, “No promises.”

He laughed nervously. “Okay. Cool. Great start.”

You turned away, cape brushing past his shoulder. Your fingers tapped the holopad as the mission file loaded again.

Coast City was colder than expected. The skyline stretched before you like a gleaming fortress, glass towers reflecting distant streetlights and neon signs. It was the kind of place that never quite slept but also never hid its secrets—unlike Gotham’s suffocating shadows. Here, everything was exposed. You hated it.

Your boots hit the rooftop of LexCorps West Satellite Facility with practiced silence. The matte-black of your suit blended perfectly with the night, absorbing what little light there was. The armor was sleek but reinforced, layered with advanced kevlar composites and nano-fiber mesh that flexed with your every movement. The subtle embossing of your family crest—an abstracted bat symbol—rested over your heart, barely visible unless you were close enough to catch it in the dark.

Your cowl framed your face tightly, with lenses that shifted automatically to thermal or night vision, glowing faintly red when activated. The cape was a lightweight, adaptive fabric—more shadow than cloth—that flowed like liquid darkness behind you, designed to muffle sound and obscure your silhouette. Every detail was optimized for stealth, agility, and intimidation. You were a ghost in the night, a weapon forged in shadow.

Behind you, the sudden whump of landing echoed. Solaris appeared—a stark contrast to your quiet shadow. His suit gleamed even under the sparse rooftop lighting, the deep navy blue accented with bold gold lines tracing the musculature beneath. The fabric shimmered subtly, a cutting-edge Kryptonian weave designed to absorb solar energy. The iconic ‘S’ crest on his chest burned with radiant light, symbolizing hope but also power.

His cape billowed in a slight breeze, almost radiant, catching the light like liquid gold, fluttering with a majesty that was impossible to ignore. His boots and gauntlets were reinforced with advanced alloys, built for both speed and strength, and the suit’s collar rose slightly, framing his face with a subtle glow. His eyes flickered softly with heat energy, a constant reminder of the immense power coiled just beneath his skin.

“Do you always land like a comet?” you muttered, scanning the perimeter through your thermal lens.

Solaris laughed, the sound light. “That was subtle for me.”

“That’s a problem.”

He stepped closer, the warmth of his solar-charged suit brushing against your cold armor. “So, what’s the plan, Omen?”

You didn’t look at him, focused on the darkened windows of the lab below. “I enter through the east vent. You circle the upper level, scan for movement and heat signatures. No engagement unless absolutely necessary.”

He nodded, voice casual but with an edge of teasing. “Got it. Though, just so you know—I’m bulletproof.”

You finally turned to face him, expression unreadable beneath your mask. “Good for you. Try not to get anyone else killed.”

Solaris blinked, his smile faltering for the first time that night. The silence that followed wasn’t awkward—it was heavy, like a pause in a storm, that split-second before lightning strikes. You didn’t apologize. You weren’t trying to wound him. You were just stating facts.

Without waiting for him to speak again, you launched your grappling hook across the rooftop. The cable hissed as it pulled you into the dark, boots slicing through wind as you moved in a wide arc above the alley. The shadows swallowed you whole before Solaris could say another word, leaving only the whisper of your cape behind.

He took a second longer to follow. His descent was quiet by his standards—no sonic boom, no heatwave—but it was still too loud for you. He didn’t crouch low when he landed. He didn’t flatten against the ledge or reduce his glow. He stood like someone who had never needed to hide.

You slipped into the ventilation shaft without a sound, muscles taut, suit adjusting instantly to the cold metal. The walls were narrow, lined with dust and static electricity, but you didn’t flinch. Your breath slowed to a crawl, your heart rate barely a whisper. The mask over your face locked into night mode as your lenses shifted—thermal on the left, motion sensor on the right.

The hum of LexCorp’s underground systems buzzed below your knees. You crawled inch by inch, hands pressed flat, limbs moving like clockwork. You didn’t hesitate. You didn’t allow space for fear. This was your element—tight spaces, low stakes, maximum focus.

In your ear, Solaris’s voice came through the comm with irritating warmth. “Three guards heading toward the main corridor. They’re armored. No open comms. One of them’s carrying something with a green pulse.”

You clicked your tongue once. “Kryptonite mod.”

“Lovely,” he said, quieter this time. “You see an entrance?”

“I’m ten feet from the upper lab. Wait for my mark.”

“Copy,” he answered. For once, he didn’t joke.

The grate below your gloves gave way with a soft metallic sigh. You slid down silently, landing in a crouch behind a tall rack of climate-controlled crates. The lab was white, polished, sterile in the way evil always pretended to be good. Screens glowed softly along the far wall, lines of code and chemical signatures scrolling fast.

You recognized the scent first—Kryptonite vapor, faint and sharp, like cut metal and static. The crates around you hummed with energy, tagged with L-Corp stamps and hazard symbols. You lifted one lid slightly and found what you feared: containment cases, shaped like rifles, glowing green at the seams.

Weapons. Designed for one target only.

You snapped a photo and sent it to the Watchtower’s encrypted server. Then you moved to the far console, fingers flying over keys as you downloaded all available files. A quiet whine filled the room as the drive spun to life, blinking orange as it copied.

Behind you, the door opened with a hiss.

Your body reacted before your mind did—spinning, batarang already drawn.

But it was Solaris.

He stepped through the threshold like a sunbeam in a storm, gold and navy flickering with the light from the glowing crates. His chest rose and fell, not from exertion, but from restraint.

“I told you not to engage,” you said sharply, voice low.

“I didn’t,” he replied, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “They spotted me. I just… didn’t get shot.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re a walking flare. They don’t miss you.”

He grinned faintly. “That’s kind of the point.”

Your comm pulsed. Motion. Five signatures now, converging on the room. You snapped the drive shut and slid it into your utility belt.

“We’re out of time,” you said. “I’ll take the lower vent. You fly back to the Watchtower and deliver this to the League.”

Solaris took a step forward, brow furrowed. “You’re faster. Let me—”

“No,” you cut in. “You’re the distraction. I’m the shadow. You’re glowing. I’m not. That’s not an insult. It’s a plan.”

There was a long beat of silence. Then Solaris nodded. It wasn’t with his usual swagger, either—it was careful. Serious. Respectful.

You handed him the datachip, eyes not leaving his. “Fly low. Don’t draw attention.”

“I can do that,” he said. Then, hesitating: “You gonna be okay on your own?”

You paused. Just for a moment. Just long enough for the flicker of something else—doubt, maybe—to sneak in before you buried it.

“I always am,” you said.

He gave you one last look—something unspoken in his eyes, something not ready to be named. Then he launched, cape sweeping wide, vanishing through the ceiling vent without a sound.

You turned back to the crates.

The hum was louder now. The guards were coming.

You didn’t wait.

The second Solaris vanished through the vent, his golden light fading into the duct like sunlight swallowed by smoke, you turned sharply on your heel and moved. There was no hesitation in your body. No breath held too long, no second thoughts coiled in your gut. This was what you were made for. Missions. Execution. Escape.

The lab was dim, lit only by the faint blue glow of energy panels and the soft pulsing green from the Kryptonite crates stacked around the room like tombstones. You moved like a current between them—low, silent, your silhouette melting into the sterile shadows. The air smelled clinical, but faintly wrong, as if beneath the bleach and coolant, something radioactive was humming just out of sight.

You heard it before you saw it—the hiss of pressurized doors unlocking, metal groaning as it slid into the wall. A team. You counted the sound of boots before you even saw their shadows stretch across the floor: four guards, heavy-footed, synchronized. Military-trained. LexCorp didn’t send amateurs into black labs.

You ducked behind the largest crate, crouching low, cloak drawn around you. The suit adapted, surface darkening a few degrees to match the metal behind you. Your breathing slowed on instinct, chest tightening, lungs moving with silent efficiency. You reached for your belt and slid two batarangs between your gloved fingers, pulse steady, heart low in your throat like a countdown.

“They said the Kryptonian left,” one of the guards muttered. His voice was gruff, distorted behind a helmet. “Sweep the area. Someone else was here.”

Your hand twitched slightly around the batarang, but your grip held. You knew this routine. Flashlights swept the room. The green glow of their rifles flickered against the polished floor. One guard passed two feet from your position, his boot scuffing slightly on a power cable. You waited. Counted his breaths. Noted the way his rifle tilted down for a single, careless second.

That was all you needed.

You struck without warning.

Both batarangs left your hands in perfect sync—one arcing high, the other low. The upper struck the rifle, right on the Kryptonite chamber. It sparked with a choked sizzle, shutting down the weapon in a blink. The lower embedded itself in his chest plate, releasing a compressed shock pulse that sent him crashing into a rack of containment tubes with a thud.

The others reacted instantly, but not fast enough.

You were already moving, vaulting over the crate, cape flaring behind you like a living shadow. Your knee collided with the second guard’s jaw mid-spin, knocking his head sideways with a crunch. He stumbled, and you used that half-second to duck low, sweeping his legs out from under him in one clean motion. He landed hard, groaning, and didn’t get up.

The third opened fire.

You rolled beneath the beam, green light scorching the air above your shoulder. Your cape rose behind you like a wall, blocking his line of sight for one crucial second. He fired again, but your boots struck his chest mid-leap, knocking him back into a table that cracked under the weight of his armor. He groaned, stunned.

You didn’t let him recover.

With two sharp steps, you grabbed the edge of the table and slammed it sideways into his chest. The crash echoed in the lab, glass shattering across the floor like rainfall. You stood above him, chest heaving, but silent.

The fourth turned and ran.

You chased him without pause.

Every step echoed louder now, your boots hammering against the sleek tile as you moved. He darted down a narrow hall, slamming his fist into a panel to open a blast door. It started to slide shut behind him. You didn’t slow.

You ran toward the wall, stepped off one side, then the other, using the corridor’s narrow width to gain height. You flipped over the half-closed door, landing hard on the other side just as he skidded to a stop, startled. He barely lifted his weapon before your hand shot out, grabbing the barrel and twisting it free.

He shouted. You kicked his knee in.

He dropped with a scream, and you grabbed the front of his armor, dragging him upright against the wall. Your voice dropped an octave behind the mask. “Where’s the rest of the Kryptonite?”

The man was shaking. “I—I don’t know! I only guard the shipments they let through. I don’t know where they go after. I swear—”

“Who’s your handler?”

“Vale. Director Vale. From the Metropolis research branch. He doesn’t tell us anything else. He just pays.”

You stared into the slits of his helmet, then struck him clean in the temple. He dropped like dead weight.

You stood slowly, exhaling through your teeth, sweat prickling at the back of your neck inside the cowl. The hallway was quiet now, the only sound the distant thrum of generators and the hum of Kryptonite charging plates somewhere deeper in the compound.

You checked your wrist display. Six minutes since Solaris left.

He should’ve made it to the Watchtower by now. If he’d gone straight up and kept his altitude low, he would’ve avoided satellite scans. He would’ve arrived with the data, the mission technically a success. You told yourself that.

Still, your hand hovered over the communicator embedded in your cowl. You could open the line. Ask if he made it. Confirm that the heat signatures around him had faded, that he wasn’t lying on a rooftop somewhere with Kryptonite burns scorching his ribs.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you turned and walked.

Each step was slow, methodical, your mind looping his last words on repeat—You gonna be okay on your own?

You were.

You had to be.

Because trusting him—even now—was dangerous. And worse than that, caring was weakness. And you’d already survived too many nights to start slipping now.

Still, in the back of your head, his voice lingered like light behind your eyelids.

And you hated how much of you wanted to hear it again.The Watchtower loomed above Earth like a sentinel—silent, cold, and pristine. Its lights pulsed in neat rhythms, elegant and surgical, like the beat of a heart that had never known pain. Solaris broke through the clouds at high speed, but his flight wasn’t as clean as usual.

He was off-center. Listing slightly.

His left arm hung lower than it should’ve. His suit—normally pristine, radiant—was scorched along the shoulder, blackened from concentrated Kryptonite exposure. The light in the crest across his chest had dimmed, flickering faintly like a dying star. It was still there, but its usual glow—the warmth that comforted civilians and intimidated villains—had fractured.

And he felt it.

God, he felt it.

Every heartbeat ached now, dragging like concrete in his chest. The Kryptonite hadn’t hit a vital artery, but it had been close—too close. His body was still burning it off, working overtime to flush it from his system. It was like his cells were screaming beneath his skin, clawing to stay alive.

The moment he crossed into the Watchtower’s atmosphere-sealed bay, he lost altitude.

Hard.

His boots slammed into the hangar deck with a painful clang, knees buckling beneath him as he stumbled forward. His hand caught the wall just before he collapsed. The impact echoed across the steel room, too loud in the silence. His vision pulsed in and out, red at the edges.

“System—" he muttered through clenched teeth, voice hoarse. “Engage medical scan.”

A light flickered on above him, and the Watchtower’s diagnostic program whirred softly to life.

Warning: Cellular destabilization detected. Kryptonite radiation present in bloodstream. Suggest immediate containment and treatment.

“No time,” Solaris breathed. “Get the drive to League Command. Priority Alpha.”

He reached into his utility brace—something Batman had insisted he wear during joint missions—and pulled the small, black datachip Omen had given him. It was slick with blood.

His blood.

He hadn’t even noticed he was bleeding.

The program took the chip, slotting it into the secure terminal beside the hangar bay doors. A blue light blinked: transmission complete. Files encrypted, routed straight to League HQ. The mission was a success.

So why didn’t it feel like it?

He pressed his forehead against the cool metal of the wall and let out a quiet breath.

Her voice echoed in his head—sharp, cold, unforgiving. “Try not to get anyone else killed.”

She didn’t mean it. Or maybe she did. It didn’t matter.

He hated how much it did matter to him.

She’d been right, in a way. He’d drawn attention. He’d made himself a target, made her job harder by simply existing the way he did: bright, loud, impossible to miss. He was the sun, and she was the shadow. There was no way around it.

And yet, even now—on his knees, suit torn, shoulder throbbing—he couldn’t shake the image of her eyes behind the mask. That glare. Controlled, calculating. Alive.

No one looked at him like that.

No one ever dared to.

He pushed himself up with a groan, staggered toward the hallway that would lead to the medbay. His hand smudged blood across the console as he passed it. He didn’t stop. Couldn’t. He just needed to make it to the sterile white walls, to the autopod that would pump him full of UV and flush the poison from his veins.

He just needed to lie down for a minute.

He didn’t notice the small red alert ping that blinked across the Watchtower’s interface—one registered to her frequency.

Because even though Omen hadn’t pressed the comm… she was still listening.

The briefing room was dim and cold, just the way he liked it. Gotham’s skyline glimmered in the monitor behind the main screen, a silent reminder of home, even this far above Earth. The Watchtower may have belonged to the League, but this room belonged to him.

Your father stood in the center of the darkened chamber, arms crossed over the matte black of his suit, cowl still in place. His cape pooled around his boots like liquid shadow, unmoving even in the climate-controlled stillness. He didn’t need to speak. The weight of his presence filled the room like a second gravity.

You entered without ceremony, gloves still off, helmet clipped to your belt. Your knuckles were scuffed—only slightly—but he noticed. Of course he did.

You moved to the console without being asked, fingers flying over the keys as the Coast City data uploaded to the mainframe. The files flickered across the holograms: LexCorp weapon inventories, encrypted comm transcripts, heat signature maps.

You didn’t look at him.

You didn’t have to.

“Report,” he said, voice low and even.

“The intel was accurate. Shipment arrived at the West Satellite Facility three hours before insertion. There were four guards inside—five outside. Kryptonite-based weapons. Solaris ran interference. I went in through the vent.”

He said nothing. Just nodded once. Not approval. Not yet.

“I extracted the data chip. He got it back here,” you added.

Still nothing.

You swallowed, subtly. “They’re moving faster than we expected. I’m guessing they’re prepping for someone bigger than just him.”

Batman’s eyes—hidden behind the cowl’s white lenses—narrowed. “Director Vale?”

You nodded. “Mentioned by name. One of the guards gave him up before I knocked him out.”

Batman turned slightly toward the screen, his silhouette cutting a sharp edge across the room’s glow. “He’s been off the League’s radar for three months. Last ping was in Bialya. If he’s back in Metropolis, this isn’t just arms dealing. It’s staging.”

You didn’t flinch.

You were raised in this.

There were no surprises anymore.

But even as you stood still, every part of your body locked into briefing mode, you knew he was watching you. You felt it like a pressure at the base of your spine.

When you didn’t speak further, he did. Quiet. Controlled.

“You didn’t tell me Solaris was injured.”

Your eyes flicked up at him then, just for a moment. “He handled it.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

The words sank deeper than you expected.

You straightened slightly, posture tightening, chin rising a fraction. “He didn’t report it until he got here. I didn’t know how bad it was until after.”

“And once you did?”

You hesitated. Just for half a second.

“He’s recovering.”

Silence.

Not judgment.

Just… silence.

Which was worse.

You stared straight ahead, jaw clenched. “It didn’t compromise the mission.”

“That’s not what I’m concerned about.”

You froze.

That was new.

Batman’s head tilted ever so slightly, as if studying a weakness you hadn’t meant to show. “You’ve always worked alone. Or with your brothers. Solaris changes the dynamic.”

“I don’t need him,” you said flatly.

“I didn’t say you did.”

Your pulse kicked hard against your ribs.

He stepped closer, only a foot or so, and spoke lower now—less commander, more father. “You don’t trust easily. That’s not a flaw. It’s how I raised you. But one day, if you’re going to lead the next generation of the League, you’re going to have to learn how to work with people who aren’t built like us.”

You didn’t answer.

Your hands were fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms.

He glanced at the screen, then back at you. “Solaris isn’t your enemy.”

“I know.”

“He’s not your brother.”

“I know that too.”

A long pause stretched between you.

Then—quietly—he added, “You didn’t leave him behind.”

Your jaw flexed. “I completed the mission.”

“You didn’t leave him behind,” he repeated.

And you hated how true it was.

Batman gave one final look at the monitor, then turned back toward the shadows. His cape trailed behind him as he moved, voice fading just slightly as he spoke:

“Get some rest. There’ll be another op within forty-eight hours. And Omen?”

You turned slightly.

He looked back at you.

“I’m proud of how you handled it. Just don’t let what scares you keep you from learning something.”

Then he was gone.

Leaving you in the blue glow of the monitors, alone with your heartbeat, and the uncomfortable weight of what he didn’t say out loud.

You hadn’t expected to see anyone in the auxiliary lounge, let alone him.

You just wanted hot chocolate.

You padded in barefoot, hair still damp from your post-shower rinse, hoodie two sizes too big, Gotham Academy pajama shorts peeking out from underneath. The Watchtower was dead quiet. Dim blue night-cycle lights hummed overhead, and you moved through the lounge on autopilot, eyes already on the drink machine near the corner—

And then you saw him.

Slouched sideways across the window ledge with one leg propped up and the other dangling lazily, wearing a threadbare grey t-shirt and black sweats, Jake looked completely out of place.

Not because he didn’t belong.

Because he wasn’t glowing.

There was no cape. No suit. No solar crest burned into his chest. No blinding aura of heat and power. Just a boy. Tired, probably still bruised, and watching the stars blink against Earth’s atmosphere like he wasn’t really seeing them at all.

You nearly turned around.

But then he looked over, and his mouth curved into a half-smile.

“Didn’t peg you as a midnight cocoa kind of person.”

You blinked. “Didn’t peg you as a person who sits still.” Of course you knew he was Solaris, your father was the Batman, he had tabs on everyone.

He shrugged. “Injury,” he said simply. “That whole ‘getting impaled with Kryptonite’ thing really kills the cardio vibe.”

You hesitated, then made your way to the machine anyway. “You should be in medbay.”

“They kicked me out. Said I was healing too fast and making the rest of the patients feel bad.”

You glanced at him from over your shoulder. He looked perfectly comfortable where he was—one arm behind his head, eyes half-lidded, like this place belonged to him.

It was infuriating.

And weirdly… kind of charming.

You poured your drink in silence, steam curling up in soft tendrils. “Did you follow me?”

He scoffed. “Nah. I’ve been here for like twenty minutes. This is my secret spot. You just have suspicious timing.”

“I don’t have suspicious timing.”

“You absolutely do. You probably know the staff schedule down to the minute.”

You turned toward him, cup in hand. “That’s not—okay, yeah. I do.”

He grinned, and it wasn’t cocky like Solaris usually was on the field. It was boyish. Warm. Like he knew this was the first real conversation the two of you had without gear or protocols or blood in the background.

“Sit,” he said, nudging the ledge with his knee.

You stared at him. “You want me to sit next to you.”

“I’m off-duty, and you’re not scowling for once. I’m trying to make history here.”

You rolled your eyes but moved closer anyway, settling cautiously beside him. The ledge was wide, the glass cool against your back. The stars beyond it felt huge and far away. And for once, it was kind of nice.

Neither of you said anything for a minute.

He took a sip from a bottle of something neon blue. You nursed your hot chocolate.

Then—quietly, without the usual teasing—he said, “You scared me a little. That night.”

You looked down. “Why?”

“I’ve never seen anyone move like that. Clean. Cold. Focused. You didn’t even breathe wrong.” His voice was more awe than accusation. “I’ve fought side by side with the best. But you—you’re something else.”

You didn’t know what to do with that. Praise made your skin itch.

“Thanks,” you muttered.

He bumped your knee gently with his. “You’re allowed to say something back, you know.”

You glanced at him. “You’re not what I expected either.”

Jake raised a brow. “Yeah?”

“I thought you’d be loud. Reckless. Golden boy stuff.”

He smirked. “And?”

“You’re actually kind of…” You trailed off, surprised by your own words. “…quiet. When you’re not trying to impress everyone.”

Jake looked down at his bottle, smiling into the rim. “Don’t tell anyone. I’ve got a reputation.”

You let yourself laugh—a small sound, but real.

It was the first time he heard it.

And somehow, that tiny sound hung in the air like something you couldn’t take back.

Neither of you moved to fill the silence after that. Not because you didn’t know what to say—but because, for once, there was no need.

The rooftop beneath your boots was still warm from the sun, but the wind carried Metropolis’s night chill straight through the seams of your armor. You didn’t shiver—your training wouldn’t allow it—but you were wound tight in your stance, breath held steady, eyes locked on the warehouse three stories below.

You had been there for three minutes. Long enough to map the guard routes, memorize the timing between the drone scans, and feel him coming before he ever made a sound.

His landing was too quiet.

A soft whump of displaced air and heat touched the back of your neck like breath, not wind. You didn’t turn. You didn’t need to. That warmth—simmering, electric—was unmistakable.

Jake.

Solaris.

He stood just behind your right shoulder, close enough that the edge of his cape brushed against yours with the breeze. The soft friction made the hairs on your arm stand at full alert beneath your suit, even as you kept your voice flat.

“You’re late.”

He moved up beside you slowly, with no apology and no rush, like he wanted you to feel the space between you shrink. “Only by seven seconds,” he said, his tone smooth as silk and just as smug. “I figured you’d want the dramatic pause.”

Your eyes flicked toward him, careful and calculated—but the second you met his gaze, it was over. He wasn’t looking at the mission site. He was looking at you.

His eyes traced your jaw, your profile, the faint tension in your stance. He looked like he wanted to say something that had nothing to do with guard patrols or blueprints. He looked like he had said it already, last night, in silence.

You turned back to the edge. “You always this irritating, or just when I’m trying to concentrate?”

His shoulder brushed yours, barely—but enough that the contact felt deliberate. “Only when you’re around,” he said under his breath. “You bring it out of me.”

You felt the words low in your stomach. Heat curled there, unwelcome, annoying.

You ignored it. Or tried to.

The warehouse below was dimly lit, but far from empty. You’d already marked four heat signatures outside, and Jake—without prompting—confirmed your suspicion as he let his gaze slip down through the roof like it was nothing.

“Five inside. Six if you count the one sneaking a smoke near the generator room.”

His voice was calm, measured, but there was something behind it. Something like… interest. Not in the mission. In you.

You didn’t look at him again. Not yet. “I’ll take the scaffolding. You distract the north patrol and disable the alarm node.”

“That wasn’t in the plan,” he said, almost like he was challenging you.

“It is now.”

He smirked—a slow curve of his mouth that was far too confident. “Didn’t realize you wanted to see me show off again.”

You shot him a glare. “I don’t.”

“Sure.” He shifted his weight, cape brushing your arm again. “But you don’t not want to.”

Your jaw flexed. You wanted to shove him off the rooftop, or maybe shove him into a wall. The line between both options was too thin tonight, and the fact that you were even thinking it made your pulse spike.

You moved without warning, launching across the scaffolding like a whisper through steel and shadow. The wind caught your cape as you landed two levels down, knees bent, breath perfectly controlled. Your body knew the motions by instinct—precision, silence, grace.

From above, you heard him laugh quietly. Not mocking. Impressed.

You ignored the sound and dropped lower into the yard, weaving between shadows and shipping crates. Two guards. One step. A twist. A knee to the jaw. They went down before your boots even hit the ground.

He landed on the opposite side of the compound a second later—louder, but no less lethal. A pulse of solar energy disarmed the rifles with expert timing. You caught the edge of his heat vision in your periphery, melting a sensor plate just before it could ping.

When you regrouped at the back door, your breath came a little faster—not from exertion.

He was already there, leaning against the rusted frame with that same damned look in his eyes.

His suit shimmered with leftover heat energy, his collar slightly torn at the edge from the earlier blast. The skin there—just above his heart—was flushed red from the impact. You looked. Just for a second. It was a mistake.

“You’re injured,” you said, sharper than intended.

Jake’s eyes dropped to your mouth, then back to your eyes. “You noticed.”

“You’re glowing hotter than usual. It’s distracting.”

He stepped closer—barely—but it made all the difference. “Everything about you is distracting.”

Your breath caught.

He wasn’t teasing this time.

You hated the way your body responded—alert, alert, aware. Of his warmth. Of his voice. Of how close you were standing and how little you trusted yourself to move away.

You turned toward the steel door to hide it. “We finish the mission.”

“We always do,” he said quietly, right behind you now. “But this doesn’t feel like just a mission anymore, does it?”

You didn’t answer.

Because it didn’t.

Because he was right.

And because the second your gloves brushed the keypad, your hand was shaking just slightly.

You didn’t see the blast coming.

One second, you were inside the control room, decrypting the last of the shipment files. The next, Jake’s voice shouted your name—and then the floor cracked open beneath your boots.

Steel snapped. Concrete split. And then: darkness.

You landed hard, shoulder-first, in what felt like a sublevel maintenance shaft. Air rushed out of your lungs as the dust settled around you in a slow, suffocating cloud.

You blinked. Moved your fingers. Pain bloomed sharp across your ribs—bruised, not broken. You sat up fast, adrenaline overriding everything else.

“Jake?”

No answer.

“Jake!”

“I’m—ugh—here,” he groaned. His voice echoed from a few feet to your left. “Not dead. Just… incredibly uncomfortable.”

You turned toward the sound, cowl lenses adjusting to the dark. The glow from his chest symbol was muted but visible—just enough to guide you through the twisted wreckage of metal and rock.

He was half-buried beneath a collapsed panel, one arm pinned awkwardly, suit scraped and shoulder bleeding just under the golden trim.

You didn’t hesitate.

You dropped to your knees beside him, hands already reaching for leverage. “Hold still.”

“Didn’t plan on going anywhere.”

You braced your feet and pushed—hard—gritting your teeth as the panel gave way with a groan. Jake hissed as his arm came free, the muscle underneath twitching in protest.

You slid your arm behind his back and helped him sit up slowly. He leaned against the wall with a heavy exhale, the heat from his skin pulsing against yours through your armor.

“Okay,” he muttered. “That sucked.”

“You should’ve stayed out of the blast radius.”

“I was trying to keep it off you.”

You froze. “I had it handled.”

“I know,” he said. “I just… didn’t want to watch you get hurt.”

The words were soft. Barely spoken. But you heard them too clearly.

You turned away quickly, activating your comm link—but all you got was static. Jammed. You scanned the walls. Reinforced. No signal. No way up.

“We’re stuck,” you said tightly.

“Yeah.” Jake let his head rest back against the wall, then glanced at you. “I’ve been trapped in worse places.”

“With me?”

He smiled—slow, crooked, and entirely too pretty for someone bleeding out of his shoulder. “Not yet.”

You should’ve said something cutting. You should’ve rolled your eyes and told him to shut up.

But your throat was dry. Too dry.

You shifted to sit beside him, pressed shoulder to shoulder in the narrow space. The air was warm from his proximity, the heat bleeding off him like a second sun. Your skin burned where your arm touched his, even through layers of fabric and reinforced plating.

He glanced sideways, eyes catching yours.

For a long time, neither of you spoke.

Your chest rose and fell, steady but slow. His breathing was deeper—strained, a little uneven. He tilted his head slightly, face inches from yours in the dark.

“I like this,” he said suddenly.

Your eyes snapped to him. “What?”

“This version of you,” he said, voice low and rough. “Not glaring. Not disappearing into shadows. Just… here. With me.”

You swallowed. Your throat was tight.

“I don’t usually let people see me like this.”

“I know,” he murmured. “That’s why I’m trying not to blink.”

You were too aware of how close his mouth was. How soft his voice had gone. How the dim light from his crest outlined the slope of his jaw, the curve of his lips, the dark lashes casting faint shadows over his cheekbones.

You said nothing. You couldn’t.

So he did it for you.

“I think about you, you know,” he said. “When we’re not on missions. When I’m flying. When I’m in the medbay and you don’t show up.”

You turned to him slowly, pulse slamming in your ears. “Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because you’re not running.”

“I don’t run,” you whispered.

“Exactly.”

You should have said something smart. Something cold. You should’ve pushed away from him and told him to stop being reckless, stop being soft with you.

But instead, you didn’t move.

Instead, your eyes dropped to his mouth.

And his breath caught when he noticed.

You weren’t supposed to feel like this. Not toward someone like him. Not toward the boy with solar energy in his bones and hope in his veins. You were made for the dark. You were trained to be cold.

But he looked at you like you were something warm.

Like you were already burning, and he was the only one who could feel it.

He leaned in—just barely. Close enough to feel, not touch. His voice was a thread between you.

“I want to kiss you right now,” he said. “And I’m not going to unless you tell me to.”

The silence stretched.

Your chest rose slowly. Deliberately.

Then, without breaking eye contact, you said—

“…Don’t wait.”

The air in the vault was thick, heavy with dust and heat and something else — something electric, crackling in the space between you. Your lips barely brushed his, tentative at first, testing boundaries you hadn’t dared cross before. Then, slow and sure, the kiss deepened, a desperate promise in the dark.

His hand cupped your jaw, thumb tracing the tense line of your cheekbone. You felt the steady pulse of his heartbeat under your palm, wild and uneven, matching your own.

For a moment, time fractured — the world outside vanished. No suits, no missions, no expectations. Just two people tangled in shadows and heat.

Then the faintest tremor shook the vault, reminding you that reality wasn’t far behind. You pulled back, breath ragged, eyes searching his.

“We should—”

“Don’t,” he murmured, voice rough. “Not yet.”

You swallowed, the taste of him lingering. “Solaris—”

“Call me Jake.”

The vulnerability in his voice surprised you. The boy beneath Solaris, raw and unguarded.

You nodded, heart hammering. “Okay.”

For a few long seconds, you just sat close, shoulders touching, the silence speaking louder than words.

But eventually, the cold reality seeped back in — the mission, the danger, the walls closing in.

“We need to get out,” you said, steadying your voice. “Before someone comes looking.”

He nodded, strength returning to his posture. “Together.”

You glanced at him, a new warmth in your eyes. “Together.”

As you worked side by side to clear debris and find an exit, the kiss lingered between you — a spark promising this was only the beginning.

The narrow hatch hissed open, spilling cool, stale air into the claustrophobic vault. You and Jake crawled out, blinking against the harsh lights of the Watchtower’s lower deck. Your suits were scuffed, clothes dusted with grime, and your hearts still pounding—not just from the crawl through the wreckage but from what had passed between you.

Jake pulled off his damaged gauntlet, wincing as he flexed his fingers. “We make a hell of a team.”

You gave a tight smile, the ghost of your kiss still burning on your lips. “More than I expected.”

He caught your gaze, his own warm and searching. “You okay?”

You hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. Just… processing.”

He stepped closer, voice dropping. “Me too.”

There was a silence pregnant with all the words neither of you dared say. Then, Jake broke it with a crooked grin. “So, about that kiss…”

You rolled your eyes but laughed, tension breaking like a wave. “You started it.”

“Maybe,” he teased. “But I’m not apologizing.”

“Good.”

His hand brushed yours—not quite touching, but close enough to send a spark racing up your arm. You swallowed hard, heart thrumming like a drum. “This changes things.”

Jake nodded slowly, eyes darkening with a mix of something fierce and tender. “Yeah. It does.”

You looked away first, then back again, ready to face whatever came next. “Then we figure it out. Together.”

He smiled, his hand finally closing around yours, fingers curling with a gentle certainty. “Together.”

[astro-apple]

✟ .・゜゜・　♥️🪬 　・゜゜・．✟

[sohighsohaii]

APCA: Sisterly Bonds

TW! The aforementioned sexual exploitation, pretty much non-con, humiliation, slave play (DO NOT READ IF NOT COMFORTABLE)

"Oh my god! Unnie! What are you doing to her?" Chaeryoung screamed in terror, then looking to you in rage. You ignore Chaeryoung, instead turning to Chaeyeon, removing her blindfold. You leaned towards Chaeyeon, whispering to her all as she saw her sister trapped the same way she was, and knew that the same fate that had befallen her would now befall her sister. "I want you to listen to me Chaeyeon, I like you, you're one of my favourites. Your master tells me you're fully broken but I don't buy it. In case you get the sudden urge to attempt to escape, resist, do anything, I'll make sure both you and your sister get some sisterly bonding in your master's playroom. If you cooperate, however, show absolute devotion and submit to me with no hesitation, I'll make sure your life and your sister's improves. Do you understand?" You could see Chaeyeon's eyes widen in fear, before she turned to you.

"I understand…Master." Chaeyeon shakily said as you smiled. "No! Unnie! Don't call that bastard that!" Chaeryoung screamed, shaking against her bonds. You chose to ignore her though, turning around and walking closer to Chaeryoung. "Let me borrow this for a moment." You walk toward Chaeryoung, detaching the collar and leash from her neck, chuckling as Chaeryoung's futile struggle only intensified her pleasure, as she was essentially rubbing herself on the vibrator that was slowly driving her insane. Looking down, you ran your hands across Chaeryoung's pussy, feeling its warmth as it pulsated, the vibrations sending Chaeryoung so close to the edge that just your hand cupping her pussy almost sends her into an orgasmic frenzy. "You have a really nice pussy Chaeryoung, has anyone ever told you that?" You say nonchalantly, as if you had just praised her singing or dancing. "Fuck you!" Chaeryoung shouted as she tried to wriggle her pussy out of her hand, only for it to backfire once again, causing her to moan in pleasure again. "Hmm, sharp tongue. Alright then." You commented, turning around, cutting Chaeyeon free. "Put this collar on, then crawl to me." You say, tossing the collar onto the ground, walking to a rack on the wall, where paddles, whips, and some anal beads hung. Running your hand through the toys, you settle on a small studded paddle, taking it as you swung it in the air. "mahther" You heard the muffled voice of Chaeyeon at your feet, the leather handle of her collar in her mouth. Good, she was getting the game. "Good dog." You praise, putting your hand under her chin as you began to pet her, almost as if she was an actual dog. "Pet, your sister insulted your master, what do you think should happen to her?" You ask, tugging Chaeyeon's leash harshly as she stumbled over her hands and feet, struggling to keep up. "She…She should get punished, Master." Chaeyeon whispered, lowering her head in shame as she couldn't bear to look her sister in the eyes, who stared at her with shock and confusion. "No, no, she can take whatever punishment I inflict on her, what will really hurt her, Chaeyeon?" You pretend to think, amused as you saw realisation dawn on Chaeyeon's face. "Punish me, Master." "Splendid idea Slave." You applaud, rewarding her by reaching down to her pussy, your fingers toying with her folds as she wantonly moaned, head thrown backwards all while her sister looked on in horror. "No, Unnie, no…" Chaeryoung's face morphed into one of absolute terror. "Hang on pet, I need to adjust the playpen. Be a good dog and masturbate while I get to work. Make your sister sees it all. And Chaeryoung, until I move you properly, if I see you not looking at your sister debasing herself, I promise her punishment gets worse. Is that understood?" You say, strutting up to Chaeryoung, a rough grip around her cheek as you glared at her. Chaeryoung glared at you, mouth shut. "Alright. New Plan. Get up here." You say, pulling a lever.

With a push, the collaboration of strings holding Chaeryoung falls, leaving her laying horizontally. With her whole body now off the floor, Chaeryoung began screaming, panicking as she struggled against her bonds. "Pet, do me a favour, get up there and shut your dear sister up, with your, well, otherwise useless fuckhole." You go, patting her on the ass.

Chaeyeon hesitated, tears welling up in her eyes as she looked at her younger sister Chaeryoung, who was now helpless and exposed, her body shaking with fear and the relentless vibrations of the toy inside her. The sight filled Chaeyeon with a sickening mix of pity and dread, knowing that she was about to be forced to humiliate and hurt her dear sibling.

"Please Master, please don't make me do this," Chaeyeon begged, her voice cracking with emotion. She lowered her head, the leather collar tight around her neck as she gripped it in her hands.

You yanked on the leash harshly, forcing Chaeyeon to look up at you with tearful eyes. "I said, get up there and shut your sister up with your cunt, now!" you barked, punctuating the command with another sharp tug on the leash.

Sniffling and trembling, Chaeyeon slowly crawled towards Chaeryoung, her heavy breasts swaying beneath her. She positioned herself over her sister's face, her dripping slit hovering inches above Chaeryoung's mouth.

"No, Chaeyeon, please don't! Don't let him make you do this!" Chaeryoung pleaded, writhing against the restraints that held her down. Her face was flushed with humiliation and panic.

Chaeyeon closed her eyes, a single tear rolling down her cheek as she descended, smothering her sister's pleading cries with her pussy. She grinded her hips, rubbing her clit against Chaeryoung's mouth, smearing her sister's lips with her arousal.

"Lick it, you stupid slut," you ordered, cracking the studded paddle against Chaeyeon's ass, leaving a red welt on her soft skin. "Get your tongue in that cunt! Now!"

Chaeyeon whimpered pathetically as she felt her sister's tongue reluctantly start to lick and lap at her folds, the vibrations from the toy inside Chaeryoung making the sensation overwhelming. She ground her hips more forcefully, essentially using her sister's face like a toy for her own pleasure.

Chaeyeon's body began to tremble uncontrollably as the depraved act of using her sister's mouth pushed her closer and closer to the edge. Her hips bucked and gyrated shamelessly, grinding her clit against Chaeryoung's struggling tongue. Obscene wet squelching noises filled the room as Chaeyeon's arousal coated her sister's face.

"Ahhh, I'm…I'm going to…to cum!" Chaeyeon panted, her voice ragged with humiliation and impending climax. Her pussy clenched and spasmed, the walls fluttering wildly around Chaeryoung's invading tongue.

Just as Chaeyeon was about to reach her peak, you grabbed the leash and yanked her off her sister with a harsh jerk. Chaeryoung gasped for air as Chaeyeon was ripped away, her face glistening with her sister's juices.

"Get on your knees, whore," you commanded, forcing a sobbing and disoriented Chaeyeon to kneel before you. "Put your hands behind your head and spread your legs. Let your sister see what a depraved slut you are."

Chaeyeon scrambled to obey, tangling her fingers behind her head as she presented her dripping, needy cunt to you and her sister. She couldn't bear to look at Chaeryoung, knowing the horror and disgust she must feel seeing her beloved older sister debased like this.

"Look at you, using your own sister like a fuck toy," you sneered, stroking your hardening cock. "Admit it, you fucking loved it didn't you? Loved cumming all over that cute little face."

"No…no, I didn't…" Chaeyeon whimpered, but her body betrayed her, still trembling with the aftershocks of her shameful climax.

As Chaeyeon tried to deny it, you turned the vibrator's intensity up to its highest setting inside Chaeryoung. Her screams of protest turned into a high-pitched wail as the toy buzzed violently, making her writhe and thrash against the bonds holding her down. Her eyes rolled back, tongue lolling out as the overwhelming stimulation pushed her towards a forced, unwanted orgasm.

"Beg for it, slut!" you demanded, gripping Chaeyeon's hair and forcing her to watch her sister's distress. "

Chaeyeon watched in horror as her little sister convulsed and screamed, the intense vibrations forcing Chaeryoung towards a painful, traumatizing climax. Tears streamed down Chaeyeon's face as she witnessed her beloved sibling being pushed beyond her breaking point. In that moment, Chaeyeon knew she had to do something, anything, to stop Chaeryoung's torment.

"Please, please stop!" Chaeyeon begged, her voice raw with desperation. "I'll do anything, Master! Just please, turn it off!"

You smirked cruelly, enjoying the power you held over both sisters. "Anything, you say? Well then, beg for it like the desperate slut you are. Beg me to fuck you, to use you, and maybe I'll consider sparing your sister from any more of this… stimulation."

Chaeyeon's face burned with humiliation, but the sight of Chaeryoung's anguish outweighed her shame. "Please Master, I'm begging you! Fuck me, use me, do whatever you want with me! Just please, turn off that thing inside my sister! I'm your toy, your fucktoy, your slut! I'll do anything, ANYTHING!"

As Chaeyeon debased herself, pleading for you to violate her, you reached down and turned off the vibrator. Chaeryoung immediately collapsed, going limp against the table, gasping and shaking from the aftermath of her forced climax.

"There, there, I stopped it for now," you said mockingly. "But you better put that mouth of yours to good use, whore. Worship your Master's cock like the obedient slut you are."

Chaeyeon nodded desperately, crawling towards you with renewed purpose. She knew she had to be the perfect slave, the ideal fucktoy, to keep her sister safe from any more torture. She knew it wouldn't end here, and failure to comply would lead to more time in…the playroom. She almost broke down just thinking about it

Reaching your hips, she nuzzled your hardening length, her tears dripping onto your shaft as she planted kisses along the thick flesh. "Thank you, Master," Chaeyeon whimpered, her voice dripping with desperate gratitude and humiliation. "Thank you for giving me purpose, for letting me serve you. I'm your slut, your toy, your pet."

With that, she took your cock into her mouth, sucking and slurping noisily, determined to be the best dick-slut. Chaeyeon moaned around your cock, taking you deep into her throat as she gazed up at you with teary, pleading eyes. She bobbed her head, slurping and sucking with wanton desperation, her tongue swirling around your shaft. The wet, obscene sounds of her debauchery filled the room as she worshipped you, determined to prove her devotion.

"Mmmph… thank you, Master…" Chaeyeon mumbled, pulling off your cock just long enough to catch her breath before diving back in, taking you to the hilt. She could feel you hitting the back of her throat with each thrust, but she didn't gag or resist. Instead, she relaxed her muscles, letting you use her mouth as you saw fit.

As you fucked Chaeyeon's face, you glanced over at Chaeryoung, who was still recovering from her ordeal. Her chest heaved with each shuddering breath, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. You smirked, knowing that the sight of her dear sister debasing herself was likely seared into her mind forever.

Chaeyeon could feel your cock throbbing in her throat, and she knew you were close. She doubled her efforts, sucking harder and faster, desperate to taste your cum. She wanted to prove her worth as your perfect fucktoy, to show you that she could satisfy you in any way you demanded.

"Fuck… you want to taste your Master's cum, don't you slut?" you growled, gripping her hair tighter. Chaeyeon nodded frantically, looking up at you with pleading, desperate eyes. "Beg for it then. Beg for your Master's load like the cock-hungry whore you are."

"Please Master!" Chaeyeon gasped out, stroking your shaft rapidly. "Please give me your cum! I need it so badly! I want to taste your hot, thick seed flooding my dirty mouth. Please, Master, fill me up! Paint my whore face with your essence!"

With a grunt, you obliged her shameless begging, gripping her hair and holding her in place as you erupted. Chaeyeon moaned in delight as spurt after spurt of your hot cum shot down her eager throat. She gulped and swallowed, not wanting to waste a single drop of your precious offering.

You released your load deep in Chaeyeon's eager throat, pumping spurt after thick spurt of your hot, virile seed directly into her greedy mouth. Chaeyeon gulped and swallowed it all down, not wanting to disappoint you or waste a single drop of your precious cum. She licked and slurped, cleaning your shaft thoroughly as you pulled out, ensuring she got every last bit of your essence.

"Such an obedient little cum slut," you praised mockingly, pushing Chaeyeon back onto the floor. "You've pleased your Master well."

Chaeryoung watched the depraved display through teary, shocked eyes. The sight of her beloved sister eagerly swallowing another man's cum, debasing herself for the twisted pleasure of her tormentor, filled her with a sickening mix of despair and betrayal.

Chaeyeon knew her sister was watching, could feel the weight of Chaeryoung's gaze on her back. But she had no choice, no other option but to be the perfect fucktoy, the ideal slave, to keep Chaeryoung safe from any further pain and torment.

"Now, get on your back, legs spread wide," you commanded, already positioning yourself between Chaeyeon's thighs. "Show your sister what a desperate slut you are for cock."

Chaeyeon scrambled to obey, lying back and spreading her legs as wide as they could go. Her pussy was dripping, swollen and needy from all the stimulation. She could feel Chaeryoung's eyes on her, taking in the lewd display.

"Look at this hungry cunt, so desperate to be filled," you taunted, running a finger along Chaeyeon's slick slit, feeling how ready she was. "Tell your sister how badly you need your Master's cock. Beg her to watch as I claim you, ruin you, make you mine."

"Chaeryoung, please…" Chaeyeon whimpered, tears streaming down her face as she looked at her sister. "Please watch…watch me be a good girl for Master. Watch him fuck me, ruin me, make me his perfect fucktoy. I need it…I need him inside me…"

Chaeryoung looked away, unable to witness the impending defilement of her sister. But you grabbed her chin roughly, forcing her to watch as you positioned the swollen head of your cock at the entrance of Chaeyeon's weeping pussy. "Watch, you little slut!" you snarled at Chaeryoung. "Watch as I claim your sister, as I ruin her tight cunt and make her my personal fucktoy!" With one brutal thrust, you slammed your hips forward, burying your thick cock deep inside Chaeyeon's needy hole. She screamed in pleasure, her back arching off the floor as you stretched her open around your invading length. "Yes, Master! Yes!" Chaeyeon cried out, her nails digging into your back as she wrapped her legs around your waist. "Fuck me, ruin me, make me yours!" You set a punishing pace, pounding into Chaeyeon's pussy with harsh, brutal thrusts. The wet, obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room as you used her, claiming her, breaking her in. Chaeryoung could only watch in horror, tears streaming down her face as she was forced to witness the violent defilement of her beloved sister. With each thrust, she saw Chaeyeon's body jolt and shake, her large breasts bouncing with the force of your fucking. "Fuck, this cunt is mine now," you growled, gripping Chaeyeon's hips hard enough to leave bruises. "This slutty hole belongs to me. Say it!" "It's yours, Master!" Chaeyeon screamed, her voice raw with pleasure and humiliation. "My pussy is yours, all yours! I'm your fucktoy, your cock sleeve, your slave!" You could feel her clenching around you, her pussy gripping your pistoning cock like a vice. You knew she was close, teetering on the edge of another shameful climax. "Beg for it, whore," you demanded, hammering into her harder, deeper. "Beg your Master to let you cum on this magnificent cock!" "Please, please Master!" Chaeyeon wailed, her eyes rolling back in ecstasy. "Please let your slutty whore cum on your glorious cock!" Chaeyeon cried out, too far gone in her lust to care how pathetic she sounded. Her pussy clenched and spasmed wildly around your pistoning length, the wet squelching sounds of her arousal filling the room.

You could feel her body tensing, her climax building to a fever pitch. With a final, brutal thrust, you buried yourself to the hilt inside Chaeyeon's spasming cunt. "Cum for me, you filthy whore!" you commanded, your voice booming through the room.

Chaeyeon let out a scream of pure, unadulterated ecstasy as her orgasm crashed over her. Her pussy convulsed almost violently, gripping your cock like a hot, slick vice as her juices gushed out around you. She thrashed and writhed beneath you, her body wracked with pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.

"YES, MASTER!" Chaeyeon screamed, her voice hoarse and ragged. "I'm cumming! I'm cumming on your magnificent cock! Thank you, thank you!" Her eyes rolled back, tongue lolling out as she rode out the waves of her shameful but intense climax.

Chaeryoung watched, horrified and transfixed, as her sister lost herself completely to the depravity of her lust. She had never seen Chaeyeon like this, so utterly consumed by her own pleasure and desperation to serve you. It broke Chaeryoung's heart to see her dear sister reduced to little more than a set of holes for you to use.

As Chaeyeon slowly came down from her high, you pulled out of her dripping pussy with a wet plop. Thick rivulets of her cum dripped down her thighs, pooling on the floor beneath her. You smirked down at your new fucktoy, proud of her performance.

"That's it, that's a good girl," you praised mockingly, giving Chaeyeon's ass a sharp smack. "You've done well today, slut. You've pleased your Master greatly."

You hooked the leash back onto Chaeyeon's collar, giving it a sharp tug. "Come, my perfect little fucktoy. Let's leave your sister to think about her choices." With a lewd, wet sound, Chaeyeon struggled to her feet, her legs shaky and unsteady from the intense fucking she had just endured. She followed behind you, head hung low, the leash leading her out of the room like a dog on a leash. The metallic click of the door closing behind her echoed like a gunshot, leaving Chaeryoung alone with you.

Chaeryoung flinched at the sound, her mind reeling with the horrific images of her sister debasing herself, screaming in pleasure as you used her. She shuddered, knowing that was only the beginning of the depravity her dear sister would suffer at your hands. The thought of Chaeyeon being your personal fucktoy, your plaything to ruin and defile as you saw fit, made Chaeryoung's stomach turn.

You turned to face Chaeryoung, a cruel smirk playing on your lips as you approached her bound form. You could see the fear and revulsion in her eyes, the way she tried to shrink back from your touch. It only spurred on your dark desires.

"As the days go by, your sister will suffer more," you said, trailing a finger along Chaeryoung's jawline, tilting her chin up to force her to meet your gaze. "More pain, more humiliation, more degradation. I will push her to her limits and beyond, until the only thing she knows is the feeling of my cock inside her, the taste of my cum on her tongue."

Chaeryoung whimpered, tears welling up in her eyes at the thought of her sister's impending fate. "Please… please don't…" she begged, voice trembling with fear and despair.

"But perhaps there is a way for you to spare her," you mused, your hand drifting down to Chaeryoung's most private place. Without warning, you delivered a sharp slap to her sensitive mound, making her yelp in pain and shock. "Volunteer to take your sister's place. Play my games, follow my orders without question. That, or your sister will entertain every drugged out drunkard at any bar i find" A lie, but she didn't need to know that. You could see the conflicting emotions warring in Chaeryoung's eyes - the desperate need to protect her sister, and the bone-deep revulsion at the thought of suffering the same fate. You smirked, enjoying her distress.

"Well? What will it be, little one?" you asked, giving her pussy another condescending slap, relishing her pained yelp. "Will you be a good girl and take your sister's place? Will you give yourself to me completely, to be used for my pleasure in any way I desire?"

Chaeryoung trembled, tears streaming down her face as she struggled to find the words. She knew she couldn't let her sister suffer any longer, but the thought of being at the mercy of this monster filled her with dread.

"I…I…" Chaeryoung stammered, her voice barely a whisper. "I'll do it. I'll do whatever you want. Just…just please, leave Chaeyeon alone."

A cruel laugh escaped your lips as you heard Chaeryoung's reluctant acceptance. "Excellent choice," you purred, giving her mound another possessive grope. "I look forward to breaking you in."

With that, you reached down and turned the vibrator back on, cranking it up to its highest setting. Chaeryoung screamed as the intense, unrelenting buzzing filled her core once more, her body convulsing against the restraints holding her down.

"There now, let that motivate you to be an extra good girl for me," you said with a wicked grin, watching her writhe and moan in helpless pleasure. "Remember, your obedience and submission is the only thing standing between your sister and a life of endless fucking and abuse."

You turned and walked out of the room, leaving Chaeryoung to her torment, the sound of her screams and the buzzing vibrator filling the air. You knew she would be a tight, virgin hole, and you couldn't wait to ruin her completely.

You stepped into the dimly lit room, the air thick with a mixture of sweat, sex, and the faint scent of ozone from the electric collar around Lia's neck. The scene before you was one of debauchery and depravity, but you had to maintain your facade, to play the role of the cruel, sadistic master to the hilt.

Your gaze fell upon Lia first, her lithe body slumped in the chair, head lolling to the side as she teetered on the brink of consciousness. The electric collar around her slender throat glinted coldly in the low light, a silent testament to the punishment she had endured each time Ryujin and Yeji had found their release. Lia's body was a work of art, toned and taut from years of rigorous K-pop idol training, her porcelain skin marred only by the red welts and bruises from your "punishments." Even in her dazed state, you could appreciate the delicate curve of her collarbone, the swell of her small but pert breasts rising and falling with each ragged breath.

Beside her, the sight of Ryujin and Yeji was equally devastating. The two women were splayed out on the obscene contraption you had left them bound to, their lithe dancer's legs splayed wide, ankles and wrists still secured to the seesaw. Ryujin's long, toned limbs jerked and spasmed each time the mechanical arm plunged the thick, veined dildo into her tight, dripping pussy. Her creamy skin glistened with a sheen of sweat, and her full, pouty lips parted in a silent scream of unwanted ecstasy with each thrust. Beside her, Yeji's body undulated in counterpoint, her own generous curves bouncing and jiggling as the dildo plunged into her over and over, her tight cunt gripping the intruding toy like a vice.

You felt a twinge of sympathy for these poor, innocent women, forced to endure such depraved torment. But you had a job to do, and playing the role of the cruel master was the only way to infiltrate this sick organization and bring them to justice. You had to make them believe that their suffering brought you some twisted sense of pleasure, even as your heart ached for their plight.

You approached Lia cautiously, unhooking the electric collar from around her slender throat with a soft click. She let out a shuddering sigh of relief as the painful pressure disappeared, gingerly rubbing at the reddened skin beneath. You could see the fear and exhaustion etched into every line of her delicate face as you set a glass of water down in front of her bound hands.

Lia looked up at you with wide, terrified eyes as she tried to sit up straight in the chair, her wrists still secured to the armrests, her ankles still splayed and tied to the legs. "Please," she whispered hoarsely, her voice raspy from screaming and dehydration, "what…what are your intentions with Ryujin and Yeji? With all of us? Please, just let us go. We won't say anything, I swear it!"

You let out a low, mocking chuckle, circling around Lia's chair like a predator stalking its prey. You knew you had to tread carefully, to build the illusion that her obedience could somehow spare her friends from further torment. It was a cruel lie, but a necessary one.

You leaned in close, your face inches from Lia's as you spoke in a low, threatening tone. "Let you go? Oh, my sweet little flower, if only it were that simple." You reached out, tucking a strand of her silky black hair behind her ear, your fingers lingering on the curve of her jaw. "The truth is, Itzy has been…underperforming. Their sales, their popularity, it's all been declining. Why else do you think it was so easy for us to capture you girls?"

Lia's eyes widened in shock and disbelief. "What? But that's not true! We've been working so hard, training every day…"

You cut her off with a sharp laugh, gripping her chin firmly. "Hard? You call that hard work? It's not enough. Not nearly enough." You released her chin and stepped back, beginning to slowly pace around her chair.

"That's where you come in, my dear Lia. You, my sweet little pet, have the potential to change everything. If you please me, if you obey me completely, I can make Itzy shine again. I can make them the sensation they were always meant to be. Of course, your fellow members will have to be obedient too, but you get to be the first, my dear girl." "You can be the shining star that saves them from ruin, Lia. Imagine it - the headlines, the adoration, the fame and fortune that would be yours if you simply submit to me. I can give you everything your heart desires, but only if you give yourself to me completely."

You paused, letting the weight of your words sink in as you stared intensely into Lia's eyes. "I want to mold you, to shape you into the perfect little toy. I'll train you to crave my touch, to live for the feeling of my skin against yours. Your pleasure will be mine to command, your orgasms belonged to me."

Lia trembled at your words, a confusing mix of fear and shameful excitement coursing through her. The thought of being the savior of Itzy, of giving everything to protect her members, warred with the humiliation of debasing herself for a monster like you. But what choice did she have? She had to be strong for Ryujin and Yeji, for all of Itzy.

"Please…" Lia whispered, tears welling up in her eyes. "Please, I'll do anything. Anything you want. I'll be your toy, your pet, your plaything. Just please, make Itzy successful again. Don't hurt them anymore."

You smirked, knowing you had her, knowing she was ready to be broken in and molded to your whims. "Good girl," you praised, reaching out to stroke her cheek. "Such a good, obedient little flower. You're going to make a wonderful pet."

You turned to the one-way mirror overlooking the room where Ryujin and Yeji remained bound and tormented, their bodies jerking and bouncing in sickening unison. "Watch," you commanded Lia, pointing towards the glass. "Watch as your obedience saves them from any more pain. Watch as you become my perfect, eager little fucktoy."

Lia turned to look where you indicated, seeing her dear friends being violated and used like mere objects. Tears streamed down her face as she whispered, "Please…please be gentle with them. I'll do anything you want, anything at all. Just please…make us successful again."

You circled around Lia's chair like a predator, your eyes roaming over her bound, trembling form. "Now then," you began, your voice dripping with dark promise, "it's time for your first lesson in obedience. You're to address me as Master at all times, do you understand?"

Lia nodded quickly, fresh tears springing to her eyes. "Y-yes Master," she stammered out, her voice quivering with fear and humiliating excitement. "I understand, Master."

"Good girl," you praised, reaching out to cup her chin, tilting her face up to meet your intense gaze. "You're a quick learner, Lia. I'm going to enjoy breaking you in."

You released her chin and stepped back, circling behind her chair. "First things first - I want you to start by thanking me for the water I gave you. Thank me like the grateful little slut you are."

Lia swallowed hard, knowing she had to play along, had to submit completely to your twisted games. "Thank you, Master," she began, her voice shaking as she tried to pour as much gratitude into her words as she could muster. "Thank you for giving this worthless slut water, Master. I am so grateful for your mercy and kindness, Master."

You smirked at her clumsy attempt, but it would do for now. "Better," you said, giving a sharp smack to her ass, watching it jiggle from the impact. "Now, let's see how well you follow orders. I want you to beg me to spank you, to punish this naughty body of yours. Beg me to redden your ass and slap your needy cunt until you can't sit right for a week. Go on, beg for it like the desperate little whore you are."

Lia let out a choked sob, her face flushing a deep crimson as she struggled to find the words to beg for such a degrading act. "Please…please," Lia whimpered, her voice trembling uncontrollably. "Please punish this worthless slut. I've been so bad, so disobedient…"

She paused, realizing she had made a mistake in not addressing you correctly. Fresh tears sprang to her eyes as she quickly corrected herself. "Punish this worthless slut, Master! Punish me hard, Master! I need to be punished, Master! Please spank my naughty ass and slap my dirty cunt until it's raw and aching, Master!"

You could see the revulsion and humiliation in Lia's eyes as she begged, but also a spark of shameful arousal. She was trying her best to follow your orders, even if every fiber of her being recoiled at the degrading words spilling from her lips.

You gripped her ass hard, sinking your fingers into the supple flesh as you lifted your hand and brought it down in a sharp, stinging slap. Lia yelped, her body jerking in the chair as the pain radiated through her. "Ah! Thank you, Master!" she cried out, her hips bucking instinctively.

You smacked her ass again, and again, each blow harder than the last. Lia wailed and begged, her voice rising in pitch with each strike. "Please, please Master! It hurts!" she sobbed, trying desperately to hold still in the chair even as her body screamed to escape the searing pain.

"Please, I'm sorry! I'll be a good girl, I swear!" Lia babbled incoherently, her mind starting to fray at the edges from the overwhelming sensation of pain and unwanted arousal. "I'll do better, I'll be your good little slut, your perfect fucktoy! Just please…please stop!"

But you didn't stop. You continued to rain down blows on her tender flesh, watching with dark satisfaction as red handprints blossomed across her once pristine ass. You smacked her pussy next, the lewd sound of skin on skin filling the room as Lia howled and begged for mercy.

"Please Master, please!" Lia screamed, her voice raw and hoarse from the relentless onslaught of pain. Tears and snot streamed down her face as she bucked and wr writhed against the chair, her body no longer able to stay still. "It hurts so much, Master! I can't…I can't take anymore!"

You paused, your hand poised in the air, ready to deliver another stinging slap to her red, throbbing flesh. You could see the desperation and agony in Lia's eyes, hear it in her wailing pleas. She was close to her breaking point, teetering on the edge of shattering completely.

You paused, your hand poised in the air, as Lia's desperate pleas and the raw agony in her voice registered. Her body was shaking uncontrollably now, tears and snot streaming down her face as she begged you to stop. You could see she was at her limit, teetering on the brink of a complete mental collapse.

You smirked, realizing you had successfully broken through her defenses, shattered her pride. Lia was now ready for the next phase of her training. You released her wrists and ankles from the chair, allowing her to slump forward, her body wracked with sobs.

"Enough for now," you said, your voice cold and dismissive. You grabbed Lia by the hair, wrenching her head back and forcing her to look up at you. "You've done well, pet. You're learning your place."

You let go of her hair and reached for a collar and leash, roughly securing it around Lia's slender throat. She whimpered as the leather tightened, the metal buckle digging into her skin. "Come," you commanded, giving the leash a sharp tug.

Lia scrambled to obey, dropping to her hands and knees on the cold, hard floor. She followed behind you, crawling awkwardly, her ass still red and throbbing from the brutal spanking. Tears and drool dripped from her chin as she struggled to keep up with your long strides, the leash pulling taut and forcing her to stumble forward.

You led her out of the room and down the hallway, passing by the one-way mirror where Ryujin and Yeji remained bound and helpless, their bodies still bouncing and jerking as the dildos violated them without mercy. Lia dared a glance up at the glass, her eyes widening in horror at the sight of her friends' debauchery.

Finally, you reached your private chambers. You opened the door, revealing a spacious room filled with all manner of BDSM toys and furniture. Lia's eyes widened in fear as she took in the sight of the spanking bench, the various whips and toys hanging on the walls.

You dragged Lia by the leash into the room, the cold metal of the collar digging into her tender throat with each stumbling step. Her eyes darted around the room, taking in the vulgar sights before her - the towering cage in the corner, the ominous-looking restraints bolted to the walls, the various toys and implements of torture scattered across every surface.

You brought her to a halt in the center of the room and released her leash, giving it a sharp tug to make her stumble and fall to her knees before you. You loomed over her crouched form, looking down at the broken girl with a mix of disdain and dark satisfaction.

"On your feet, slut," you barked, grabbing her arm and hauling her up none too gently. Lia yelped in pain as her bruised knees and sore muscles protested the sudden movement. "Get in the cage," you ordered, pointing to the dog cage in the corner.

Lia hesitated for a moment, a flicker of defiance sparking in her tear-filled eyes. But one look at your stern, impatient face quickly extinguished any thoughts of disobedience. With shaking hands, Lia crawled into the cage, curling up in a tight ball in the confined space.

You grinned wickedly as you slammed the cage door shut, the lock clicking into place with a harsh finality. You could see the humiliation and degradation etched into every line of Lia's body as she huddled there, reduced to a mere pet to be caged and contained.

"There now," you purred, circling the cage and admiring your new acquisition. "Isn't that so much better than that chair? So much more…suiting for a filthy little whore like you."

You reached into the cage, gripping Lia's chin and forcing her to look up at you. Tears streamed down her face as she stared at you with a mix of fear and reluctant acceptance. "Thank you for locking this worthless slut in your cage, Master," she whimpered out, her voice broken and defeated. "This worthless slut loves being your prisoner, Master."

Hearing that, you turn, throwing a towel over the cage, further isolating Lia, before turning to your bed, face falling into your hands. This was too much, as memories of your previous self rushed to the surface, and now you had given it too much time outside. No, this couldn't be. This was just for the mission. It'll be okay soon

[chaeyve]

　　　༻༾♡༿  Dulce　Pi𝓮l ᤢᤢᤢ

　 🖥️🪷 ⋅.˳˳.⋅ॱ˙ ˙ॱ⋅.˳˳.⋅

[soulari]

　　꒰⠀⠀ა⠀⠀❀ ⠀. untouchable⠀⠀໒⠀꒱

[galapogos]

cheshiras ✦ 365tape ✦ swirpies

locomafias ✦ itzudio

ringozos ✦ chessgrls ✦ dallaclub

vultoracer ✦ braittzy

neocuntzy ✦ itzymadre ✦ bucetzy

wirldwest ✦ alienchaery

ryusafo ✦ cakegores ✦ froggyeji

[luciopioid]

Happy Ending

masc!ryujin x fem!reader . 3,792K words

tags: masc lesbian ryujin. fem(me) reader. bottom ryujin. loser ryujin. top reader. alcohol mention. enemies (?) to lovers (?). reader has vagina. scissoring. nipple play. lots of begging.

synopsis: you don't particularly like ryujin, but still you put up with her. one night when the two of you are alone, she reveals to you that it's all a front and she needs you more than she's been letting on.

note: THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR REQUESTING THIS! I slutted that girl OUTTTTT i hope yall enjoy.

You stared at Ryujin from across the table, your leg bouncing and your finger tapping simultaneously. You watched every word leave her mouth, every perfectly fabricated word. You subtly rolled your eyes as she continued to tell the rest of her story. 

Hate was a strong word, but like sounded even worse. You tolerated Ryujin because she was a friend of a friend. There was something so annoying about people who weren’t true to themselves– people who you can see right through. Ryujin might have been able to fool anyone else, but not you. 

“Are you there?” Ryujin asks as she tapped your leg with hers under the table, her tone ambiguous. Your shared friends stop to look at you as well, you feel a pinch of annoyance creep up on you with the sudden unnecessary attention. Ryujin did it on purpose, you know she did. 

“I’m listening.” You say, returning her tone. She gives you a look and goes back to her elaborate story. In truth, you were not listening. You knew Ryujin knew that too. 

“So?” She asks, obviously. Fuck. 

You feign ignorance, “So…what?” 

“So are you down to hang out tonight?” Your other friend interrupts quickly. 

“Oh.” Shit. This was clearly a bad look. Not only were you clearly not listening, but you were practically staring Ryujin down while doing so– or not doing so. “Of course,” You shrug, “Where?” 

“Mines.” Ryujin says, with a slight smirk on her face, looking directly at you. You bit back the urge to roll your eyes to keep things cordial, but god.  

“I’m down.” You say, your tone back to neutral. 

Your friends continue with their conversation. Ignoring them again, you glance at Ryujin. She catches your eyes, and averts her gaze after you didn’t look away. She takes an awkward sip of her drink. 

Interesting. 

You spent the first half of your night getting ready alone, letting the minutes slip by as you dolled yourself– for no particular reason. You waited patiently for your friends to reach your place, having plans for you to drive to Ryujin’s apartment. Within the hour, you’re waiting outside her door with your two friends, waiting for Ryujin to open the door. Alas, she does not. Instead a shorter girl answers, a bright smile forming immediately. 

“Hi guys! Come on in.” She turns around, guiding you guys inside the apartment. “I’m Ryujin’s roommate.” She adds as you reach the living room area. 

“You guys made it!” Ryujin exclaims once she saw the group of you. “This is my roommate, Lia!” She adds, Lia smiles sheepishly and waves while Ryujin introduces the rest of you to her. After casual conversation, you notice Ryujin reach into the cabinet behind her, grabbing a handful of shot glasses. 

“Shots, anyone?” She asks, her back still turned. Your friends exclaim, never having turned down a shot in their life. 

“I’m driving.” You say. Ryujin puts back two glasses. 

As the night continued, you watched the rest of the company as the liquor progressively reached them. Everyone becoming practically nerveless while they giggled and moved loosely to faint music coming from the speaker. All except for Ryujin. She fit right in to everyone who had been drinking, her inability to be subtle, annoying. In fact, you haven’t seen her pick up something to drink since you got here. She wasn’t acting drunk though, she just wasn’t drinking. No, there’s nothing wrong with that. Ryujin is perfectly allowed to not drink even if she is of legal drinking age and you know she drinks regularly. It’s perfectly normal, maybe she just didn’t feel like it. But like everything else she did– or didn’t do, this bothered you. For some particular reason. 

In a matter of hours, your friends are in various positions on the couch, sprawled out and asleep, Lia catching up to them as she tries to fight it. You hear footsteps behind you from the couch, it was Ryujin walking back into the room. She pauses next to you, the two of you watching Lia drunkenly (albeit cutely) fight sleep. 

Once Lia went to sleep, it was like an immediate switch with Ryujin. Her usual cocky tone, now soft and whispery.

“Is she out?” She asks softly, looking down at you, her eyes brown and gentle. You felt your stomach do a literal flip. All you could do was nod. 

“Are you sleepy too?’ She asks awkwardly, you wanted to burst out laughing. You realize this was technically the first time you’ve been alone with Ryujin. No friends around to impress, no one around to gawk at her— just you and her, alone. You smile immediately. 

You could A: Be normal and talk to her how you usually do and not acknowledge her entire 180 in demeanor, or you could B: do the exact opposite.

You shift a little to meet Ryujin’s eyes, or try to at least. “Why didn’t you drink?” You ask curiously, not caring of its invasiveness. She exhales sharply, looking around– instinctively– probably to see if anyone else was paying attention, but alas. She looks back at you, a stupid forced smirk on her face, “Cause you weren’t,” She shrugs, “I think.” You cock an eyebrow. “I mean I already wasn’t going to, but I didn’t want to be the only one not drinking. And then you said you weren’t going to as well so I just…” Ryujin rambled nervously, for no reason at all. You continued to stare. 

“‘I didn’t feel like it’ tends to work sometimes too, y’know?” You say, smiling, having way too much fun. “Oh. Yeah.” Ryujin smiles sheepishly, taking a seat on the floor as you do the same. You decided to take  advantage of this situation. You could maybe get to know the real Ryujin, the thought enticed you tremendously. “And to answer your question, no, I’m not sleepy. Wide awake actually.” She smiles and this time it’s with a little less anxiety. 

“Good. That’s good.” Ryujin muttered, pushing her glasses up on her face. “I’m used to being the last one awake with them.” You tilt your head. She was so unbelievably cute to you right now. She continued talking. “You would know that, but you usually don’t um, come by often.” 

Ryujin’s words hung in the air briefly, she opened her mouth to backtrack but nothing fell out. “Sorry.” She says sheepishly. You watched her talk, trying to keep your amusement hidden. You get comfortable on your spot on the floor. 

“You’re right. I don’t.” You account, because why not? “Busy.”

Ryujin’s expression faltered at your words. She let out an audible exhale. “Busy?” She parroted back weakly, her eyes finally meeting yours for a moment. You shrugged, amused at the way she shifted in her spot on the floor. You noticed Ryujin’s hands fidgeting on her lap, desperate for something to do. It was quite endearing. “Yeah, busy.” You repeated nonchalantly. “Too busy to come by?” she asked curiously.

“What, you don’t believe me?” You ask, teasingly. Ryujin bit her lip, shaking her head. This was almost too easy. Her habit brought your eyes to her lips, the scene of her biting her own plump pinks making your head light. You grin, eyes flickering back to hers. “It’s just…“ She muttered, whispering. You shift an almost unnoticeable inch closer. She was just spewing sentences repeatedly a second ago and now she can’t form a coherent thought. “It’s just…what?” You ask, voice low and teasing, physically unable to get rid of the shit eating grin off your face. Ryujin makes reluctant eye contact, her eyes only able to focus on yours for so long before inevitably darting to your low cut top, her eyes shooting up to your face once she realized you noticed her wandering eyes. And with no subtly all, she immediately looks away— at nothing. You couldn’t help but smirk, having the time of your life.. “Like what you see?” You whispered coyly, your voice still low and teasing.

Ryujin’s eyebrows furrowed, her face flaming an even darker shade. “N-no.” She stuttered. Adorably. 

“You don’t? ‘Cus I swear you were staring a second ago.” You rebut. Ryujin’s face is flushed in its entirety, her breathing uneven. She tenses up momentarily, her desperate eyes looking up at you through her big frames. 

“Please…” Ryujin practically whines, “Stop it.” She said breathlessly. It flipped an immediate switch and your grin widened as you shifted even closer to her. She was flustered beyond recognition. You wondered if there was anyone else who got to see her like this, if there was anyone else who knew she could be like this. 

“Stop what?” You ask, feigning ignorance, your voice low and teasing. 

Ryujin groans, getting fed up with your teasing. “You know what you’re doing.” She exhales. “It’s not…fair.” Ryujin pushes her glasses up and breathes in, shifting so she can compose herself to her best ability. You didn’t like that, so you place your hand on her thigh gently to work her up again. Her eyes dart down to your hand and her breath quickens once more. You smirked, noticing Ryujin’s immediate reaction to your touch. Her breathing faltered. “What’s not fair, Ryujin?” You ask, tone teasing again, intentional with the use of her full name. “How I’m able to get you so worked up? You don’t like that, huh?” 

You inch closer to her, if that was even possible. You get close to her ear, your hand squeezing her thigh with a gentle pressure. Ryujin’s breath hitches. “You know you get under my skin any chance you get.” You whisper to her. “Now you’re telling me what’s not fair,” You click your tongue in disappointment, “I mean come on.” Ryujin’s big, desperate eyes met yours, her chest heaving with her mouth parted slightly. Her lips looked so soft and inviting. You made sure she saw you prey at them as you met her eyes again. You smile, the idea clear as day on your face, but you don’t do anything about it, not yet. Wanting to keep Ryujin wanting and begging, even if she was still too stubborn to ask. 

“But I’ll stop.” You shrug, giving Ryujin what she was asking for. In your attempt to move away entirely, she finally speaks up. 

“Wait…”

She whispers, holding the hand on her thigh in place. You look up at her, curious.

“Please…” Ryujin’s chest heaves up and down, her eyes left yours bashfully. “I need you.” She confesses, her voice small. 

She looked so good flustered like this, her skin flushed with her dark hair falling over her face. Even if you couldn’t stand the girl sometimes, Ryujin was undeniably sexy and seeing her like this, vulnerable. Needy. It turned you on even more. 

“Look at me and say it.” You command. You were gonna give her what she really wanted, you just needed her to say it with her chest first.

No one has ever looked at you this way, so unbelievably desperate. Her eyes were low and wanting. Ryujin gets bold and moves your hand higher up her thigh. “I need you.” She affirms.

You let a beat pass, taking the moment to admire her once again before finally asking, “Where’s your room?” Ryujin’s eyes light in anticipation as she watches you get up, she follows suit, leading the two of you the few steps towards her bedroom. You close the door behind you, locking it. Just in case. Ryujin turns around in front of you, her body heat radiating off of her and onto you. Her scent and warmth making your head spin. You grab her waist before you lean in to whisper, “Go sit on the bed for me…” 

She obeys you and immediately sits at the corner of the bed. You walk closer as you take in the way she looks up at you. You stand inches away from her, between her legs. You hold eye contact as you slide your shirt above your head, leaving you in your bra. Ryujin’s breath quickens below you, her chest visibly heaving. She couldn’t believe this was happening right now, in an attempt to confirm it was real, she reaches up to touch you, but you swat her hand away. “No.” You say firmly. “You don’t get to touch me. Not yet.” Her eyebrows furrow in desperation and frustration, but still she obeys. “Y-Yes ma’am.” Ryujin nods, and you could feel yourself get physically wet, you couldn’t wait to make her lose control.

You squeeze your breasts over your bra teasingly before slowly unhooking it from behind and letting it fall off your shoulders. Your chest was completely exposed to her now, her mouth agape as her perving eyes burned into your breasts, not even bothering to look at you. You don’t mind though. You unbutton your pants before seductively sliding them down your thighs and onto the floor. Ryujin watched you do that too, entranced. You step closer to her. Ryujin’s eyes were glued to your figure, her body trembling in anticipation. Her hands were balled into fists, pressing at her sides to keep from touching you. You anchor yourself by putting your knee between her legs, firm against her heat. Ryujin gasps at the contact, her cheeks flushed and still so red. “You’re being such a good girl.” You whisper, your voice undeniably patronizing, but you couldn't help it. She was just too easy to tease. She reacts immediately, her breath picks up again as she leans back, holding herself up on her elbows. 

Ryujin’s hips moved subtly as your knee pressed against her, unsure if she was even able to. Again, you didn’t mind. You could see it in her expression that your words got to her, the effect they had on her. You could tell she wanted to get mouthy and retaliate but she didn’t. She was being a good girl. You almost wanted to give into her, give into what she wanted, but you decided to revel in your greed. 

“Does that feel good?” You purr, low in her ear, taking note of how her body shivered at the warm contact on the shell of her ear. You move your knee, adding more pressure to her crotch and Ryujin literally whimpers. You can see her shame begin to zip away as she decides to make a more confident rut against your knee and whine out as she does so. “Answer me.” You demand.

“Yes. It feels good…” She chokes out, speaking to the best of her ability at the moment. You lean down close to her face, your forehead flat against hers, Ryujin’s mouth inches away from yours. She leans in slightly to try and kiss you, extremely desperate to capture her lips in yours, but you pull away incessantly. You watch Ryujin’s face twist into a mixture of desperation and frustration. "Please." She whines, her expression begging. You could tell she wanted to be upset, get frustrated and talk back, but she knew better. 

Ryujin continues grinding her clothed cunt against your bare knee, the friction from the pull of her hips making her gasp while she begged for you. “Come back…” She says through soft moans, “Please.” You felt your head begin to spin. You genuinely could not deny her, not when she asked so nicely. She lets you kiss her first, the moment your lips finally met hers you felt her entire body relax as she surrendered to you. Ryujin then hungrily kisses you back, her soft plump lips latching onto your top lip as she sucked, wet and desperate. You pull her bottom lip with your teeth, reciprocating her action as you reciprocate her moans too. The kiss was eager, both of you wanting it just as bad. She, probably more than you, but still. You pull back reluctantly as you unzip her jacket, slowly sliding it off both of her shoulders, leaving her in a black tank top. You move down her body seductively, slowly pushing up her shirt. You notice her tense up shyly and you pause your movement mid torso. “Is this okay, Ryu?” You ask softly. Her body is squirming under your touch, but still she manages to nod frantically, her face flushed even more. You grin, reveling in the effect that you had on her right now. You tease her some more, pushing up the shirt slowly as it revealed her heaving stomach. You push the tank top over her now revealed breasts. You waste no time latching onto one of her nipples and sucking softly. Ryujin gasps into a moan. The contact of your warm, wet mouth on her aching nipple ran a shiver through her entire body. You lick and suck at the sensitive nubs, her back arching while she stifles exasperated moans. You look up at her from this position and see her biting her bottom lip to keep quiet, her cheeks still flushed. 

You unlatch yourself from her chest with a pop and begin trailing slow kisses down her torso, Ryujin’s body squirming continuously under your touch. With every kiss leading you to the waistband of her pants, you dig your fingers into it, looking up at her one last time for approval. “Fuck. Please hurry.” Ryujin whispers impatiently. Seeing her so impatient had you buzzing with desire— you had full control right now, something he clearly forgot. “Shhh… Patience, girl.” You say, deliberately moving slower in pulling her sweatpants down. “You don’t get to rush me either.” You say assertively. Ryujin lets out a frustrated whine, but she doesn't protest. Her hands gripping the bedding under her tightly, her knuckles turning white. She's trying so hard to be patient. "Yes ma’am... I’m sorry." She says, pathetic and bashful. Her words went straight between your legs. 

You slowly pull down her sweatpants, looking up at her with preyful eyes. You watched her grit her teeth and bite her lip to stop anything that could get her in trouble from coming out, but still you wanted to push her— make her needy on purpose– so you can put her in her place one more time. You discard of her pants, leaving her in boxer briefs with her tank top pulled perfectly over her breasts, looking so perfectly exposed for you. “Open your legs, baby.” And once again, You command, Ryujin obeys. You see the wetness that formed through the fabric, and you can't help but salivate. Your thumb slides gently over her pussy in a teasing motion, and she lets out a soft moan. "Please.." She begs softly, her body trembling. You pull her boxers down, with a little more haste this time. She opens her legs for you again and you relish in the sight of her beneath you, her pussy practically glistening from how wet she was right now, and it was all because of you. You stand up briefly to take off your own panties, you engulf her again, gently pushing her further back on the bed while you reposition yourself between her legs again. You swing one of her legs over your shoulder and shift slightly so that her needy clit met yours. Your eyes flutter and you exhale shakily, the wind physically leaving your body. You open your eyes to see Ryujin’s hand covering her mouth, she was looking directly at you, her eyes so desperately low and dark. 

You reach down to uncover her mouth and she immediately lets out a whimper while throwing her head back. You hadn’t even started moving yet, and she was already losing herself. As much as you wanted to keep teasing her, this felt just as good for you as it did her. “I need you,” Ryujin whined, “Please. Please fuck me.” You place a kiss on her leg before giving into her. You rock your hips against hers, the two of your pussies slick and wanting. Her back arches slightly as she whimpers wantonly at the contact. You do this a few more times, agonizingly slow,  seeing just what needy noises she’s able to make for you. Ryujin is already out of breath, her body squirming with need. "You want more, baby?" You ask, before you pick up pace again. 

“Yes. Yes I need more.” She wastes no time responding, and you waste no time fucking her. You grip her leg as you rock your cunt back and forth minutely, flesh against hers. Every single one of your movements earning you a shameless moan from her. You continued this pace as you reached down to take one of her nipples between your fingers and pinch. Ryujin’s hips buck as she moaned even louder, her sounds sluttish and desperate. 

“Mommy…faster… please.” Ryujin says breathlessly. You smile at the name, your head was getting too big for your shoulders.

 You grind yourself against her swiftly and minutely, your own orgasm beginning to build up in your stomach, but you still held out to keep fucking her like this. You snake a hand around her throat for balance, applying a firm, soft pressure, earning a mewl from Ryujin while she leaned her head back and let your hips work. You grunt, matching her whimpers with every thrust. Ryujin’s breath catches in her throat and you almost pull the hand on her throat back, before you glance and take note of her toned stomach tensing up relentlessly. This only makes you move harder and faster, you knew Ryujin was about to cum and you were too. 

“Close.” She chokes out through uncontrolled whimpering, her eyes cinched shut. You feel the coil build in your own stomach quickly, you were teetering over the edge and you trusted Ryujin was right there with you. Ryujin's body shakes uncontrollably, her back arching as she gets closer and closer to the edge. "Please, please, please." She whimpers, slurring her pleas. 

“Come for me.”

And with that the two of you cum together, strained moans and incoherent curses fill the room as you ride out your orgasm, literally and figuratively. Your vision blurs and this time it’s your turn for your eyes to cinch, the waves of pleasure crashing into you intensely, you felt your body go limp. You drop Ryujin’s leg and reposition so that you could hover directly over her, your chest and hers, heaving with ragged breaths. Ryujin's cheeks are flushed and her hair disheveled, her eyes still low and glazed with pleasure. You couldn't resist her. You lean down to capture her lips with yours. The kiss is soft and gentle, an intimate contrast to the events leading up to this kiss. The air in the room is thick and warm as Ryujin clings to you tightly while she kisses you back. 

[staymoonia]

° ❀ . ۶ৎ * ･ Imaginary Friend, Itzy ° ❀ . ۶ৎ * ･

[woliefairr]

☆ itzy ( chaeryeong ) lockscreens !

[urfriendlylocalidiot]

Please send in ITZY requests!! I love writing for them

Love Languages w/ ITZY

Yeji

Physical Touch

Would definitely be clingy and especially to you. Even if it’s like little things : holding your hand, holding onto your shoulder, etc. Would insist on being near you at all times. Even if you guys were both busy doing different things, she would at least be near you. Just having you nearby is enough to make her heart happy.

Although, when you guys do get sometime alone, she would definitely jump into your arms and cuddle with you. Even if there wasn’t a bed, she’d just be happy to be in your arms. Sometimes just being with you is enough to make her day 10x better.

Lia

Words of Affirmation

She would swoon over any compliments you send her way. Even if it was just a text, it would send her heart racing. It would often be the little extra thing she needed to get through her day.

Would definitely be reciprocating of any and all compliments you send her way. Just a compliment from you would be enough to lift her mood. If she ever felt bad, she knew all she needed to was come to you and she’d feel so much better because of how nice you always were.

Ryujin

Acts of Service

Would definitely be a very very nice gentlewoman for you. On dates, she’d hold open the door and carry your bags, just make sure you were taken care of in every way possible. Even if you didn’t ask her for help, she would still go out of her way to help you out — your shoe is untied? you can bet that she’s on her knees to tie it for you.

However, although she would never ask for help either, you’d still secretly help her out too. Especially on days/weeks when she’s busy training, you’d be sure to cook her meals for her and would clean the apartment to make sure she had a clean and cozy place to return to.

Chaeryoung

Quality Time

Just being around you is enough for both of you guys to immediately be 10x more happy. You wouldn’t even necessarily even have to talk to her, you could both be doing your own totally separate things, but as long as you guys are in the same room or within eye contact of each other, you’d both be so happy.

Loves doing little domestic things with you like cooking dinner, doing laundry, or just watching a movie together. To her, any day spent just being around you would be a day well spent. Would definitely whine you have to leave, even if you guys spent literally the whole day together.

Yuna

Receiving Gifts

Yuna would definitely be used to being spoiled and who could blame her? You would definitely wind up pampering her. It’d turn into every single time you saw her, you’d have a gift for her. Not necessarily something expensive every single time, often, it was just you saw something that reminded you of her and bought it for her impulsively. Just little things like keychains or her favorite chocolate.

She’d definitely return the favor, but in even bigger means. Because she’s often very busy, she doesn’t have time to just go out window-shopping whenever she pleases, but when she does, she’s sure to stock up on a lot of gifts for you. She’d give larger gifts, but less frequently. Expect to be VERY loved on your birthday and Christmas.

[ickbite]

I’LL BE YOUR BABYDOLL !!

Pairing: SliceofLifeYoutuber!Jay x FamilyYoutuber reader

Synopsis: when a clip of your daughter asking you to marry Jay from youtube goes viral, you can’t help the new feelings that came with the publicity.

Note: i loveee mommy readers i cant lie i had a jake fic likee 4 years ago where he was the baby daddy and he found out years later lmk if i should bring that back or make a part 2… no angst just fluff and a lovely family dynamic— enha masterlist

You didn’t mean to film today. You really didn’t. The plan was to sleep in, maybe do pancakes if you could talk yourself into it, and let the rain do the heavy lifting when it came to entertainment.

But, of course, your daughter had other ideas.

“Can we make a video?” she asked, already dragging the tripod out from the corner like she owned the place. “Please, please, please! I wanna show everyone my doll and my sparkly rock and my dance moves!”

You blinked at her from the couch, still in the hoodie you’d slept in and cradling a half-full mug of lukewarm coffee. Her hair was sticking out in about five different directions, her pajama top was on inside-out, and she looked like she hadn’t blinked since the idea entered her brain.

“…You didn’t even brush your teeth.”

“I did it yesterday.”

You sighed and set the mug down. “Fine, but I’m not putting on makeup.”

“You look pretty already, mommy,” she said, already winning.

Fifteen minutes later, the camera was rolling.

“Hi friends,” you said, tugging your knees up to your chest as you sat cross-legged on the floor. The living room behind you looked semi-tolerable — toy baskets tucked into corners, pillows fluffed just enough to pass.

Next to you, your daughter waved a sparkly pink hairbrush like a wand.

“I’m back with the star of the channel—”

“It’s me,” she whispered to the camera, wide-eyed.

“Yes, yes it is. It’s a rainy day today, so we’re doing a cozy little video. No makeup, no fancy lights. Just us, some snacks, and probably five too many stuffed animals.”

“Six,” she corrected, already building a mountain of plushies behind her.

“Right. My bad.”

The vlog flowed like a stream of consciousness — soft, silly, and totally unplanned. She showed off her favorite items one by one: a plastic butterfly ring, a tiny glitter jar she insisted was “fairy dust,” and the rock. The rock she found two weeks ago on the sidewalk and now kept in a special box like it was a diamond.

“This is Rocco,” she said proudly, holding it up to the lens. “He’s magic but only on Tuesdays.”

You tried not to laugh as you nodded. “Naturally.”

Then came the dance break, the “Guess the Animal” game., and a very passionate performance of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star into the hairbrush mic, complete with dramatic bowing.

You leaned back against the couch, watching her with tired eyes and a full heart.

She was chaos, glitter, and warmth wrapped into one tiny body. And even though your head ached and your inbox was full and the laundry was judging you from the hallway, you wouldn’t trade this moment for anything.

Later, when the camera was off and she was curled up on your lap with her arms loosely around your waist, you ran your fingers through her hair and whispered, “You’re my favorite person, you know that?”

“I know,” she mumbled into your sweatshirt, already half-asleep.

“You’re gonna be so mad when I show this video to your future partner.”

She smiled against your chest. “Only if they’re weird.”

You laughed.

She didn’t even realize that she’d just captured something special — not for the algorithm, not for followers, but for you. A little snapshot of who she was at this exact age. Her silly stories. Her soft voice. Her wide eyes. Her everything.

You kissed the top of her head and pulled the blanket over both of you.

Tomorrow, maybe you’d edit the video or maybe you’d just keep this one for yourself.

You didn’t mean to post it.

Well, you did, but not in the way that mattered.

It was almost midnight, and you were curled up in bed with your laptop heating your thighs and a bowl of half-melted ice cream on the nightstand. Naelle had knocked out hours ago, her unicorn tucked under her arm and one sock halfway off. The rain was still tapping gently against the window, the apartment humming with that rare, end-of-day stillness.

You’d started editing just to wind down.

You were halfway through the video when it happened: you hit play on a random, barely lit clip and there it was—Naelle’s tiny voice clear as day:

“Can you marry him now?”

You paused. Rewound.

“Jay from YouTube. He cooks pancakes and he has a plant named Potato.”

You stared at the screen, eyebrows lifting so high they practically left your face.

“…What.”

You hadn’t even heard her say that while filming. You must’ve been too busy laughing at her chicken nugget meltdown or trying to stop her from gluing googly eyes to the cat toy bin. But there it was—spoken with full toddler conviction.

Your face in the background was priceless. Stunned. Speechless. Slightly offended that she’d made the decision without you.

You started laughing. Actual belly-laughing into your throw blanket. You dragged the clip into a separate timeline and trimmed it down to fifteen seconds. A little caption. A little music. Just for fun.

Just for you and the 43 people who consistently watched your Stories.

“My daughter has a type, apparently. Should I be concerned?? #momlife #chaoskid #toddlertalk”

You hit “post to TikTok,” shut your laptop, turned off the light, and fell asleep with a smile still tugging at your lips.

You woke up to your phone screaming.

Buzz after buzz after buzz, your screen lighting up like it was fighting for its life.

Messages. Notifications. Mentions. DMs. A missed call from Megan.

Megs 🍓: WHY IS YOUR FACE ON MY FYP AND WHY DOES YOUR KID WANT U TO MARRY JAY

HeeseungReacts: not the toddler having more confidence than me 😭

sunoo.glow: this is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen I’m sobbing

Your eyes widened as you tapped open the TikTok app.

And then you froze.

463.7k likes.

Over 2.1 million views.

“DUETED BY: JayDoesLife”

You blinked. Refreshed. Blinked again.

“WHAT.”

You scrambled upright in bed, covers flying, heart hammering in your chest like it was trying to burst out and sprint into the hallway. You opened the duetted video with shaking hands.

The split screen began.

Left side: Naelle, proudly declaring Jay as your future husband.

Right side: Jay himself — messy-haired, hoodie-wearing, sitting cross-legged in what looked like a sunlit kitchen, watching the video with a slow-building smile.

When Naelle finished her declaration, he tilted his head and smirked.

“She’s got taste. And apparently a plan.” He held up a juice box like a toast. “Tell her I’ll bring the snacks.”

The video ended with him laughing into his sleeve, eyes crinkling like he’d just witnessed the best thing all week.

You screamed into your pillow.

Not metaphorically at the happiness, but literally at the stress of this newfound fame.

You stumbled into the kitchen on autopilot, phone still in your hand, Naelle’s sock half-stuck to your pajama pants. You opened the fridge, stared at the oat milk like it held answers, then slowly turned back to your phone.

The comments were blowing up.

This child is my new favorite matchmaker 😭

Jay and Y/N better collab. For the sake of the child. And also my sanity.

You better wife him up for all of us.

WAIT HE KNOWS YOU??? WHAT’S GOING ON????

You groaned, flopping face-first onto the kitchen table.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to go viral. You were a mom. You made simple, unedited vlogs with soft music and bad lighting and the occasional existential monologue while folding baby socks. You weren’t someone who had celebrities responding to your daughter like they were taking her seriously.

Naelle wandered in half-asleep, hair fluffed and eyes squinting against the kitchen light.

“Mommy?”

You sat up fast. “Hey, baby. Want breakfast?”

She nodded, yawning dramatically. “Did you marry Jay yet?”

You dropped your forehead back onto the table.

You weren’t sure what kind of morning it was supposed to be, only that your stomach felt half-full of butterflies and half-full of dread. There was something about the way the air sat in the apartment — heavy with anticipation and faintly smelling like lemon cleaner — that made you feel like the walls themselves were waiting for something, too.

Naelle was sitting in the corner of the living room, cross-legged in her too-small ballerina tutu, gently humming a tune she was clearly making up on the spot. She cradled her plush unicorn in her lap like a sleeping baby, brushing its tangled pink mane with the tiny plastic fork from last night’s takeout box.

Her cereal sat untouched on the coffee table, milk slowly turning warm in the bowl while the marshmallow shapes dissolved into colorless clouds. You couldn’t blame her. Your own mug of coffee had been reheated three times and was still going cold beside your laptop.

Your phone, however, refused to be ignored.

Every ten minutes — sometimes less — it buzzed with another ping, another notification, another message from someone who’d seen the video. They were strangers, acquaintances, even people from high school you hadn’t spoken to in years, all asking the same question in varying degrees of shock:

“Was that really Jay from YouTube?”

The answer, maddeningly, was yes.

You hadn’t expected it. Not the duet. Not the numbers. And certainly not the spiral it triggered inside your chest every time you checked your notifications.

It had been cute at first — the way people reacted to Naelle’s voice, the way they replayed her words like she was a tiny oracle. But then came the edits, the tweets, the mutuals messaging you things like “YOU’RE LIVING MY DREAM,” and the comment threads analyzing your laugh and trying to match your kitchen backsplash to your exact address.

What started as funny quickly became overwhelming, and what was once overwhelming soon felt like being caught in a wave you weren’t ready to ride.

So, when your inbox pinged with a new message titled “jaydoeslife.collab@gmail.com,” your hands went cold before you even clicked.

✉️ From: imnayeon@jaydoeslife.net

Subject: Let’s talk — Jay x Y/N Collab?

Hi Y/N,

I’m Nayeon — Jay Park’s manager. Jay saw your video (as you probably already guessed), and to say he was charmed would be an understatement. He hasn’t stopped talking about your daughter or the phrase “pancakes and babysitting” since it went up. We were wondering if you’d be open to filming a casual, family-friendly collaboration. Something like “YouTuber Babysits for a Day” or “Toddler Teaches the YouTuber Life.” Very relaxed. Very wholesome. We’ll keep it simple and easy.

Of course, no pressure at all — if it doesn’t feel right, we completely understand. But Jay would love the chance to meet you both, and I’ll make sure everything runs smoothly.

xo,

Im Nayeon

You read the message three times, then a fourth just to make sure it hadn’t somehow changed while you were blinking.

The first time, your eyes skimmed it in disbelief, your brain unable to process the words in any meaningful order. The second time, you clutched your mug like it might anchor you to the earth while reading it aloud under your breath. The third time, you paced the kitchen like a CEO preparing for a scandal press release, whispering, “It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine,” even though it was clearly not fine.

Naelle, who had been watching you from her booster seat with growing suspicion, finally asked the obvious.

“Is something happening?”

You paused mid-step, your voice pitched too high. “…Maybe.”

Her spoon hung frozen in the air, a soggy star-shaped marshmallow dripping from its edge. “Are we famous now?”

You stared at her, equal parts horrified and impressed. “What would you even do with fame?”

She shrugged with the exaggerated nonchalance only a four-year-old could pull off. “Make everyone wear matching pajamas forever.”

You pressed a hand to your chest and let out a quiet laugh, half-choked and entirely overwhelmed. Of course that would be her plan.

You typed out a reply with fingers that wouldn’t stop shaking. You read it seven times before sending it, then stared at your outbox like the message might crawl back out and bite you.

Nayeon responded within an hour, bubbly and to-the-point, as if this was the easiest thing in the world and you weren’t currently spiraling in a hoodie that had toothpaste on the sleeve. She confirmed that Jay was free this weekend and proposed a filming date — this Saturday, at your place.

The reasoning was sound: “Naelle seems most comfortable in her home environment,” Nayeon had written, followed by a winking emoji and the phrase “We want this to be fun, not a production.”

But when you read the part that said “Saturday”, your whole body tensed.

That was two days away. You may have actually gasped — a sharp, small sound that echoed against the fridge door.

What followed could only be described as panic-fueled preparation. You didn’t just clean the house. You purged it. You reorganized toy bins and folded couch blankets like your life depended on it. You vacuumed in corners that hadn’t seen daylight in months. You mopped under furniture you forgot you owned.

You even Febrezed the ceiling.

“Mommy,” Naelle asked gently from the couch, surrounded by a pile of stuffed animals she’d arranged like a medieval council. “Why are you cleaning the air?”

You paused mid-spray, caught with your arm extended toward the light fixture.

“I’m not.”

“You’re vacuuming the ceiling.”

You looked down at the hose in your hand. “…Okay, maybe a little.”

By Friday evening, the anxiety had softened into a strange, itchy hum beneath your skin — something between dread and excitement, like your body couldn’t quite decide which it preferred. Jay wasn’t a stranger anymore, not really, not after watching hours of his soft-spoken baking vlogs and plant updates and chaotic Q&As.

But it wasn’t just about Jay anymore.

The internet had been let in. The curtain had been pulled back. And you were starting to realize your quiet, safe, slow-moving world had been shifted ever so slightly out of orbit — all because your daughter had declared you were destined to marry a pancake-making YouTuber.

You stared at the outfit you’d picked out and hated it.

Then stared at the backup outfit and hated that too.

Your phone buzzed with a text from Megan right as you were mid-spiral.

you: what if he’s weird

megs🍒: babe he’s literally famous for talking to plants and baking banana bread. ur fine.

megs🍒: also pls wear the cream tank top it makes you look hot

You made a strangled sound, threw your phone onto the bed, and yanked the sweater off the hanger.

At 10:14 a.m. on the dot, your doorbell rang.

Naelle let out a squeal that could’ve shattered glass and launched herself off the couch before you could catch her. Her socks slid across the hardwood as she ran full-speed toward the door, shouting, “I GOT IT!!” like it was the most important moment of her life.

You panicked.

“No no no — wait, Naelle, don’t—!”

But she had already flung the door open with both hands, no hesitation, no filter.

And there he was.

Jay. Standing in your doorway. Holding two coffee cups in one hand and a juice box in the other. His hair was slightly tousled like he’d run his fingers through it one too many times, and his hoodie was just oversized enough to make him look unfairly approachable.

Slung over his shoulder was a tote bag that said “This Bag Contains Crumbs” in tiny font. His smile was soft and almost bashful.

“Hey,” he said, looking from your wide-eyed face to your daughter’s radiant one. “I brought caffeine… and juice for the little.”

He held out the juice box like a peace offering.

Naelle snatched it with a delighted gasp and ran off without another word.

You just stood there, blinking.

“…Hi,” you said, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

And then, as if the moment wasn’t already surreal enough, another figure stepped forward into the doorway.

Nayeon.

She looked like a magazine ad in human form — hair in soft waves, makeup delicate but perfect, outfit pressed without a single wrinkle. She carried a tablet in one hand and a matcha latte in the other, and somehow managed to make standing in your hallway feel like an entrance.

“You must be Y/N,” she said with a warm smile, her tone light but unmistakably polished. “Thank you so much for letting us invade your Saturday. Jay’s been very excited.”

You swallowed.

“Of course,” you said, stepping aside as they entered. “Come in.”

It dropped at exactly 7:32 p.m.

Jay didn’t even warn you.

You had just finished cleaning up from dinner — a lazy post-collab meal of boxed mac and cheese and frozen peas Naelle insisted on arranging into the shape of a flower — when your phone lit up with three notifications at once.

jaydoeslife just posted: “the best pancakes i’ve ever had (ft. the real boss)”

megs🍒: OH MY GOD YOU’RE IN IT

megs🍒: U LOOK SO HOT STOP IT

You blinked at the screen for a full ten seconds before unlocking it with trembling fingers. You didn’t even hesitate — you tapped Jay’s thumbnail, heart pounding, and the video bloomed across your phone.

There it was. Your living room. Your couch.

Your daughter — front and center, wearing her princess tiara and a syrup stain on her cheek, beaming at the camera like she was born to be adored by strangers.

And Jay, beside her, soft and charming and very clearly letting her lead.

“Today, I’m here with the one, the only—”

“NAELLE!! And he’s the assistant.”

You covered your face with one hand. “Oh my God,” you whispered.

The video was chaos in the most charming way.

Naelle narrating the entire recipe in a tone that alternated between fairy queen and exhausted teacher. Jay obediently following every instruction, even when she made him twirl before flipping the pancakes. You, visible in the background once or twice, mug in hand and surprisingly nonchalant despite falling apart internally.

Nayeon had edited it with surgical precision — cutting just enough to keep the pace, but leaving in every unfiltered, heart-tugging, wildly chaotic moment. The lighting was soft. The sound was crisp. The whole thing felt like a rom-com scene you didn’t realize you were starring in until the credits rolled.

And then came the part you’d secretly dreaded.

“I want you to marry Mommy.”

You closed your eyes. You could hear your own breath catch in the background. You could see Jay’s blush in high definition.

“I didn’t know this was a hostage situation,” he joked.

But something in his voice, in the way his eyes flicked toward where you stood just offscreen — it didn’t sound like he hated the idea.

Naelle watched the video twice on the iPad, laughing louder each time she heard her own voice. She asked to watch it again, and you only said no because the comments were already flooding in and your stomach was twisting into unfamiliar shapes.

i’d trust naelle with my life

this is giving SINGLE MOM LOVE STORY ENERGY???!!!

naelle: iconic. jay: soft. y/n: nonchalant dreadhead. me: crying.😭😭❤️

i didn’t come here to catch FEELINGS but here we are.

naelle’s right. marry her. pancakes are serious.

You refreshed the page again. The views were rising so fast it felt unreal. Thousands. Then tens of thousands. Then more. Your face — your home — was in front of the entire internet.

And somehow, instead of panic, there was something warm blooming in your chest. Like maybe this wasn’t a mistake after all.

At 8:04 p.m., your phone buzzed again.

jay

okay confession

i’ve rewatched the last minute like five times

naelle is the star

but i think you stole the scene

You stared at the message for so long the screen dimmed.

Then lit up again.

if this is too much too fast, tell me

but i’d really like to see you again

even if there’s no pancake making involved

You didn’t answer right away. Not because you didn’t know what to say, but because you wanted to hold onto the moment. That quiet flutter. The way your cheeks felt flushed for reasons that had nothing to do with the trending tab.

In the hallway, Naelle had fallen asleep on the beanbag chair, still wearing her tiara.

The apartment smelled like pancakes and shampoo and something new you didn’t quite have words for yet.

At 8:11 p.m., you finally texted back.

you:

maybe next time, i’ll make the pancakes

you just bring yourself

And just like that, it wasn’t just a collab anymore.

It was the beginning of something real.

The knock came just as you were finishing dinner — the kind of knock that was too deliberate to be a delivery or a neighbor dropping by. You peeked through the peephole, and there he was: Jay, standing on your doorstep, hands in the pockets of his jacket, looking like he’d rehearsed what to say a thousand times but still wasn’t sure.

You swallowed the rush of nerves and opened the door.

“Hey,” he said softly, offering a small smile that made your heart skip in the most inconvenient way. “I thought I’d drop by. No cameras. No plans. Just me.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “You came back.”

“Yeah,” he said, stepping inside like he belonged. “I wanted to see you… and Naelle. Maybe bring that pancake recipe back for round two.”

Naelle, who had been playing quietly with her dolls in the living room, suddenly appeared at your side, eyes wide and hopeful.

“Are we having pancakes again? Can I put the tiara on you?”

Jay crouched down, grinning. “Only if you promise to let me be the prince this time.”

You watched them, their easy laughter filling the room like a melody you didn’t want to end.

From the kitchen, Nayeon appeared, clipboard in hand, her expression softer than usual.

“Looks like the collaboration’s turned into something a little more,” she said quietly, almost to herself.

You nodded, feeling the warmth spread through you — the kind that comes from realizing you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

You weren’t sure what you expected when Jay returned without a camera crew, without Nayeon, and without any kind of structured plan — but it wasn’t this.

It wasn’t him sitting barefoot on your floor, cross-legged on the rug, helping Naelle build a cardboard castle with a roll of tape and two empty paper towel tubes. It wasn’t him showing up with a tote bag that was his own merch and pulling out not just snacks, but a miniature potted plant he said he “couldn’t bear to leave alone.”

It wasn’t how easy it was. Or how quiet it felt, in the most dangerous way.

There was something about having him here — without the internet watching, without the performance — that made the walls of your apartment feel closer, warmer. Like your space had expanded to make room for someone new, and your heart had followed suit without your permission.

Naelle had declared it a “pajamas-only evening,” and you hadn’t fought her on it. You’d changed into an old crewneck and leggings. Jay had dutifully accepted the Hello Kitty pajama pants she offered him — they barely reached his ankles, but he wore them anyway.

“I look like a cursed sleepover,” he’d said, deadpan.

Naelle laughed so hard she fell backward onto a pillow.

The hours passed slowly, but comfortably.

At one point, Jay was reading a picture book aloud, doing ridiculous voices for each character while Naelle giggled into your shoulder. At another, he helped her draw a stick-figure comic strip titled “JAY GETS ATTACKED BY PANCAKES”, which she said was based on a true story.

And then, around 8:43 p.m., she yawned.

The kind of yawn that meant it was time.

She fought sleep with every ounce of her dramatic flair, claiming she had “emails to write” and “royal princess meetings” to attend. But you scooped her up anyway, carried her to her room while she mumbled about syrup kingdoms and declared that “Jay needs to come every Friday or else.”

You kissed her goodnight. She was out before the door clicked shut.

When you returned to the living room, the cardboard castle was still mid-construction, but Jay had cleaned up the stray crayons and gathered the glitter into a neat pile like he’d lived here for years.

He looked up when you entered — eyes soft, posture easy, that familiar warmth radiating from him like he didn’t know how not to give it.

And just like that, the silence felt different.

Not awkward. Not heavy.

But charged.

You sat beside him on the floor, your legs stretched out next to his, your knees almost — but not quite — brushing.

“She really likes you,” you said, your voice quiet and unguarded.

Jay glanced toward the hallway where her nightlight glowed faintly through the cracked door. “I really like her,” he said, then added, softer, “I really like you too.”

You didn’t answer right away.

You let the words hang there — heavy but not unwelcome, like rainclouds you weren’t afraid of.

“I wasn’t looking for this,” you finally said, truth resting in every syllable. “Not with a kid. Not online. Not with someone who has… a million people watching.”

Jay nodded. “Me neither. But then you posted that video. And she said that thing about pancakes. And suddenly everything else felt… smaller.”

He wasn’t looking at you when he said it. He was staring at the edge of the cardboard tower, fingers absentmindedly smoothing a wrinkle in the paper like he needed something to ground him.

You looked at him.

Really looked.

And saw not the curated YouTube version of Jay, not the viral softness or camera-ready charm, but the quiet steadiness beneath it all. The patience. The kindness. The part of him that didn’t just show up, but stayed.

So you reached over slowly, carefully, and placed your hand over his.

It was small. Barely a touch.

But it was real.

And when he turned to you, gaze full of something tentative and open and terrifyingly honest, you didn’t pull away.

“I’m not good at letting people in,” you said, barely above a whisper. “But she already let you in. And I think… maybe I want to, too.”

Jay swallowed, his eyes locked on yours. “Then let me in.”

You ended up on the couch, shoulder to shoulder under a fleece blanket, the credits of a movie neither of you had really watched rolling in the background. At some point, Jay had fallen asleep, his head tilted toward yours, breath soft and even.

You should’ve moved.

But you didn’t.

Because for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel alone. And more than that — you didn’t want to be.

It started small.

A tweet here, a blurry photo there, a comment under one of Jay’s older videos, timestamped and laced with a quiet kind of suspicion.

That couch looks familiar.

Wait… is that the same hoodie from the pancake video??

Not me matching the floor lamp to Y/N’s apartment tour two years ago???

It hadn’t even been 24 hours since Jay had left your place — hoodie rumpled, hair a mess, a faint outline of Naelle’s glitter sticker still stuck to his cheek. He hadn’t filmed anything. He hadn’t posted. But still, they knew.

The internet always knows.

You didn’t notice the full storm until you woke up to 17 texts from Megan.

megs🍒

babe you’re trending

again.

i repeat. AGAIN!!!!!

“mommy’s friend jay” is a THING now

like people are shipping it.

people are writing headcanons.

i think someone’s writing fanfiction. i hate this. i also love this?

AND HE POSTED A PICTURE

You blinked blearily at the screen, one eye open, thumb trembling as you tapped Jay’s account. His newest post was simple:

A blurry shot of a stack of child-sized pancakes on a plastic princess plate.

With the caption: “love looks like syrup and glitter these days.”

Your stomach dropped in the most ridiculous, fluttering kind of way. He hadn’t tagged you. He hadn’t said your name. But the internet didn’t need names to connect dots.

Naelle was humming in the bathroom, brushing her teeth with the door wide open and one sock on, completely unbothered by her sudden viral fame.

You, however, were pacing your kitchen barefoot, scrolling through tagged posts and trying not to panic.

There were clips of the collab spliced with dramatic music. Edits of you and Jay with fake wedding captions. Tweets that read:

I don’t believe in love but I believe in Jay falling for a single mom.

Y/N is the new mother of the internet. Respectfully.

If he doesn’t look at me like Jay looks at her mid-pancake flip, I don’t want it.

📞 nayeon im is calling…

You stared at the screen for two full rings before you answered, voice tight with nerves.

“Hi.”

“Hey, it’s me,” Nayeon said smoothly, her tone clipped but not cold. “Don’t worry — I’m not here to lecture you.”

That was somehow worse.

You sank into the kitchen chair, rubbing your forehead. “How bad is it?”

There was a pause on the other end, followed by the soft sound of her sipping something expensive.

“Let’s just say… Jay trending with the word mommy isn’t exactly what I had in this month’s content plan.”

You let out a strangled laugh.

“I knew this might happen,” you said, quieter now. “But I didn’t think it would happen this fast.”

“Well,” Nayeon replied, “you made the mistake of being emotionally available and extremely pretty on camera. That’s on you.”

You groaned into your hands. “What do we do?”

Another pause. Then her voice softened just a little.

“Jay’s an adult. You’re not under contract. This isn’t a scandal. It’s just… complicated. If it makes you feel any better, he hasn’t stopped talking about you since he got back.”

You froze.

“What?”

“I’m not repeating it,” Nayeon said quickly, but her smile was obvious in her voice. “Just… take a breath, Y/N. If this is something real, then it’ll hold. Whether the internet’s watching or not.”

You let the words settle around you like warm tea — comforting and slightly dangerous.

That night, after Naelle had fallen asleep under a mountain of stuffed animals and you were curled up on the couch with your laptop closed and your phone silenced, you received one last message.

jay

if this gets too loud, i’ll turn it down

i like you in the quiet too

And that was when you knew.

It wasn’t just a crush. It wasn’t just a viral moment. You were falling. Slowly, steadily. Quietly. But absolutely.

Saturday came faster than you thought it would. The morning began with a glitter explosion. Not metaphorically, literally. Naelle had somehow gotten into her craft bin before breakfast and decided that the only way to properly honor “the ceremony of true love and sparkles” was by tossing an entire packet of pink and silver glitter across the hallway carpet. You found her kneeling in the middle of it, like a priestess summoning something sacred.

“I’m making a magical aisle,” she said solemnly. “You’re not allowed to vacuum it until after the vows.”

You didn’t argue because somehow — this was happening.

Jay showed up just before noon, holding a bouquet of sunflowers wrapped in brown paper and a pack of apple juice boxes he called “offering gifts.” He wore a crown Naelle had made out of pipe cleaners and construction paper, perched crookedly on his head, and a button-down that was just wrinkled enough to prove he hadn’t tried too hard… but had definitely tried.

“You look,” you said, pausing in the doorway as he entered, “like someone who got roped into a royal toddler wedding and is pretending not to love it.”

Jay smiled at you, eyes warm. “I do love it.”

And somehow, he wasn’t talking about the glitter.

The living room had been transformed — pillow aisles, stuffed animals lined up like guests, and a tiara-clad Naelle officiating with a plastic microphone that didn’t work. There were vows, of course. Hers.

“Do you promise to make pancakes and not forget syrup ever again?”

“Do you promise to share all your blankies and hug when she looks sad?”

“Do you promise to like her even when she’s grumpy and says bad words quietly in the kitchen?”

You laughed. Jay nodded, solemn and sure.

“I do,” he said, looking only at you.

When it was your turn, you expected to stumble — to laugh it off or overthink every word.

But Jay leaned in, gently taking your hands in his, and whispered, “You don’t have to say anything rehearsed. Just say what’s real.”

So you did.

You looked at him — this sweet, slightly awkward, thoughtful man who’d stumbled into your world like a misdelivered letter — and said, voice quieter than it should’ve been,

“I didn’t think anyone would ever want all of this. The mess, the mornings, the tiny human, the glitter. But you showed up. Again and again. And you made it feel like… I’m not just surviving anymore. I’m allowed to want things. And I want this.”

Jay didn’t say anything.

He just looked at you — really looked — like he was memorizing every word. Every curve of your mouth. Every inch of the space between you that didn’t feel so wide anymore.

Naelle clapped.

“And now you KISS!”

You froze.

Jay blinked.

Naelle tilted her head. “You have to. Or it’s not official.”

You let out a soft laugh, but something in your chest tightened. You looked back at Jay, unsure whether to lean in or laugh it off — until you saw him swallow, saw his hand twitch once like he wanted to reach for your face.

So you nodded.

Just once.

And that was enough.

He leaned in slowly, almost carefully, like he was asking every second if you still wanted this. His hand brushed your cheek, fingers warm and steady, and when your eyes fluttered shut, he closed the space.

The kiss was gentle. Unrushed. Real.

It wasn’t fireworks — it was softer than that. It was a sigh into warm skin. It was the kind of kiss that didn’t ask for more, just promised that this moment, this connection, was safe.

Jay pulled back first, only by a breath, and looked at you like he couldn’t believe he’d just done that and also like he couldn’t believe he hadn’t done it sooner.

You couldn’t help smiling.

Neither could he.

Naelle threw confetti.

You ended up on the floor later — tangled in blankets, plastic rings on your fingers, Jay’s head resting against your shoulder while Naelle drew hearts all over his arm in washable marker.

Nayeon showed up an hour later with coffee and a camera, pausing in the doorway when she saw you like that. Like a family.

She didn’t say anything, only smiled and snapped a picture. Jay didn’t blink and you didn’t flinch because this wasn’t pretend anymore.

This was how it started.

[alcoholfreenayeon]

CHAERYEONG AS YOUR GF PLEASEEEE 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

Chaeryoung Girlfriend HCs

A/N: There you go🌚

SFW HCs

Daydreams a lot. You’ll find her lost in her thoughts quite often.

She always this cute smile when she sees you. The way she tries to suppress it but fails is adorable.

You both watch a lot of romcoms together.

She likes to listen to ASMR especially before she sleeps. It caught you off guard because when you came to bed after her and began to hear random sounds and whispers you were sure the room was haunted.

She’s been thinking of writing a song about you but is hesitating because she wants to improve her song writing skills first to make sure she does her best.

Chaeryoung and you love trying out new food and cuisines.

She gets cold quite easily so during winter the two of you are always cuddling up under a blanket. However that has made her dislike winter a little less since it means she gets to cuddle up with you without excuse more often.

You want to watch some horror movies with her but she gets really scared. Chaeryoung said she’d watch it if you tell her the whole plot first.

You both like going on dinner dates often.

Visiting the beach is something you both like to do because both of you find it quite relaxing and a place where you both can be lost in your thoughts.

NSFW HCs

She had been waiting for you to make the first move for so long.

Chaeryoung still can’t believe how things you do to her make her heart beat so fast she’s afraid it’ll burst out of her chest.

When you both have sex it’s generally slow passionate and sensual. Like both of your souls are literally connecting.

She likes to dress up for it a lot and tries out different lingerie and recently been thinking about doing cosplay but isn’t sure if you’d like that.

Chaeryoung leaves lots of nail and scratch marks on you. And you leave lots of hickeys on her.

She likes handcuffs, doesn’t matter whether it’s on her or on you.

She’s a switch but prefers to be a sub most of the time.

It took her the longest time but now she finally doesn’t get too shy halfway through after trying to seduce you.

She has a praise kink and becomes such a mess when you do praise her.

She doesn’t mind things getting heated in public and in fact kinda finds it really hot.

[sohighsohaii]

APCA: First this one's on top, and then the other: ITZY(ft. a mystery Guest)

Series Masterlist

(Part 1 of the Itzy Arc: Ryujin, Yeji and Yuna's breaking is begun. Lia and Chaeryoung's breaking begins in the next part. Still not that much smut, I promise it comes soon)

TW! The aforementioned sexual exploitation, pretty much non-con, slight torture, drugging. (DO NOT READ IF NOT COMFORTABLE)

"Send her as soon as you can. She'll be instrumental." You say into the phone, hearing Aegis agree on the other side of the phone.

Hanging up, you looked around the room, ensuring the room was clear, before sighing. This was a part of your life you had hoped not to reignite. Before you joined the force, you had a...troubled past, with problematic habits and compulsions. All that was shed once you donned the uniform, but now, as you shed the uniform, you are also forced to go back to your problematic habits. You knew this was meant for the sake of ending the suffering. That's what you told yourself, you had to insist, because to end this suffering, countless idols had to suffer, and ultimately break. What's worse, it was going to be by your hand. You prayed that this would work, or else the demons you let back out of you would have been freed for naught, and there was no escape.

Hearing a knock on the door, you quickly recomposed yourself. "Come in." You say, a bespectacled man entered the room, his seemingly elegant and posh tone in stark contrast to his bulky build more akin to a wrestler than a noble as his voice would suggest.

"The preparations you've requested are in place."

"Very well, wait for me outside room 4, and enter when I call for you" You command, the man nodding, turning to walk out.

Turning to the table, you look through 4 cameras, your very own dollhouse.

In Camera 1, Shin Yuna sat on a huge bed, you would argue more extravagant then the room in her own dorm. She was clearly confused, looking around the room trying to find any traps, but no, it seemed like a normal bedroom, much more comfortable than the warehouse floor that she had found herself chained down to not too long ago. The only weird thing she had on was a chastity belt, but in her terrified state, she didn't question it. She would rather have it on than be defiled by some asshole. In your few recordings of Aegis' half assed attempted training of her, you knew you needed to play the long game with her.

In Camera 2, Lee Chaeryoung found herself caught in a spider's web, her hands and feet bound to a web of rope behind her, with her eyes impaired by a blindfold, completely naked except for a collar and leash, also a vibrator lightly stimulating her. She needed a more direct approach than Yuna, a perfect whirlwind of shock, terror and protectiveness.

In Cameras 3 and 4, there were two different rooms, though both rooms could see each other. In the first, Choi Lia, held in place by leather bounds, body locked in a kneeling position, hands locked behind her back, causing her tits to jut out. Her mouth was stuffed with a red ball gag, with a large shock collar around her neck, but her eyesight was not impaired, though she almost wished she was. She didn't know what to make of the sight before her.

Hwang Yeji and Shin Ryujin, on a seesaw, but one straight out of a shitty fetish film. Weirdly enough, you did by that from a porn set, well, then modified to suit what you needed it for. On both ends, laid a white silicone dildo, lined up to the honeypots of the two idols in distress, looking at each other in confusion and fear. These two were the ones you anticipated taking the longest, with the most fight. So you had to go the route of protectiveness but also, distrust. It was probably going to help break Lia too. The two idols were bound tightly, strapped securely to the seesaw.

from Putting on a face of a sadistic "master", you walked into the room, the two idols eyes immediately darting to you. You felt a wave of pity rush over you, a shameful rush of excitement too, but you had to push it down. Means to an end, you insisted "What the fuck do you want, bastard." Ryujin immediately spat out, causing you to shake your head animatedly. Pulling a remote out of your pocket, you flourished it in front of the two idols. Pressing a button, you could hear the muffled scream of Lia from behind you as the two idols screamed in fear. After an initial shock, Lia's body relaxed, though her body heaved from the pain, struggling to catch her breath. "What the fuck did you do to her you asshole!" Yeji shouted, as you sighed. Good lord. Another scream emerged from behind you, and you could see tear well up in Yeji's eyes, and fear flicker across Ryujin's face. "Now now girls, no need for name calling. We're here to play a game, and what is a game without some rules. Show some decorum, will you ladies?" You ask almost tauntingly. Realizing what you meant, the two of them held their tongue. They didn't want risk antagonizing you any further. "So, b-. you, what game are we playing?" Yeji asked, her voice almost a sneer. A little close, but you didn't want to hurt Lia too much, so you chose to ignore it. "We're playing a little game called, well, SeeSaw. I'm sure you've noticed the dildos underneath you. In a moment, once the game starts, it'll begin to vibrate, and rest assured my ladies, it'll only grow stronger as it goes." You explain. "That's not a game." Ryujin spat back. "How rude, interrupting me. I wasn't done. So, the game, Miss Shin, Miss Hwang, is a battle of trust, sacrifice, and endurance. Over the next 2 hours, you'll be competing over who orgasms the least. The winner is rewarded, and the loser will be swapped into the hot seat. As you can see, currently, Miss Choi is in the hot seat. Not only does your orgasms determine who wins, it also determines how well Miss Choi will enjoy the game. Whenever one of you orgasms, a shock will be delivered to Miss Choi. It's non fatal, that much I assure you, but I promise you it hurts more than a little." Behind you, you hear a muffled whimper, seeing Lia begin to cry. "So for Miss Choi's sake, I hope you two ladies are well trained. Now for the games element. You'll find in your hands, a remote. The top button sends your side of the seesaw up, and the bottom button sends your side of the seesaw down. Me personally, considering how close you girls are, I'm sure you girls will only be using the bottom button to save the other. However, if at any moment should you choose to grow competitive, the top button is always available for you to relieve yourself of the dildo. Don't fight each other though, sitting on it is probably better than constantly getting impaled by it." You run a hand down Yeji and Ryujin's thighs, lightly patting their pussies as they both lightly growled. "And if it serves as any motivation, this is the reward." You pulled a tablet out, showing them a live feed of Yuna's room. Yuna had made herself comfortable, body clad in a purple silk negligee, lying on the bed watching TV. "Winning has it's benefits." You remind the girls, as you moved to the two girls, shoving a ball gag into their mouths, covering their eyes with a blindfold. "The game begins in a minute. Godspeed ladies." You say Before you left the room, you decided to have some fun, walking up to Ryujin, leaning down as you ran a tongue across her puffy slit, and you could tell she was trying her best not to moan. That defiant look on her face. You had seen it many times before. And you've seen them all break before. Moving to Yeji, you did the same, though Yeji reacted much differently, your tongue illiciting a moan from the leader. You smirk, feeling your emotions overrun you as you lean in, nibbling on her nipples as you felt her contort. That was enough though. The game must begin, and the show must go on

You left the room, seeing the man from earlier. Fishing a controller out from your pocket, you hand it to him. "Let them control it first, maybe around 10 minutes, then, take control, just go crazy with it, make it akin to a seesaw. Up and down and up and down. Understood?" You say as you noticed a gleeful smile crack across his face. "How devious, sir. I understand. About Miss Choi?" He asked. Looking down to the control, you hesitated. "Go easy on her, I don't want her too tired to be broken." You give a quick excuse, which the man bought. You'd join them again in around an hour, but for now, you had to begin with Yuna and Chaeryoung. First, Yuna.

Going to Room 1, you picked up the tray of food left by the man earlier, then knocking on the door.

From behind the door, you heard Yuna hesitantly reply, "Come in."

Opening the door, you saw Yuna curl up under the blanket, not wanting to expose herself to this stranger. "Why am I here, where are my girls?" Yuna asked, slightly defiantly. This trick required some acting, well, it was close enough to the actual truth. "Please, let me explain, Miss Shin. I'm a business partner of the man who...did this to you. He knew I'm a big fan of you girls, and he offered for me to come and, well, sample you girls." Hearing that, Yuna instinctively pulled the blanket higher, inching away from you. "No, Miss Shin, I'm not here to do that, I assure you. I'm not involved in any of this, and suffice to say I was more than shocked to hear what was being done to you girls. I'm working on freeing you girls, but...it's complicated, the man is stubborn. For now, this is all I can give you girls. Comfortable housing, and no one touches you girls until this deal is finally done and I can set you girls free." You say, and you saw Yuna's doe eyes widen, and you could tell what she was thinking. Though a thousand questions swirled in her head, you knew the imperative question was, can I trust this man? "Are you telling the truth?" Yuna asked, and there, she was on the hook. "I promise you Miss Shin. I'l-" You began to say, but she quickly cut you off. "Yuna. You can call me Yuna." She said, with a hesitant but small smile. You felt your heart suddenly flutter, what was this? You couldn't afford to get softhearted in this mission. "Okay, Yuna, I promise you. I'll do what I can, as soon as I can. For now, all I can do is bring you your meals once in a while, maybe accompany you a little to help you pass the time. Well, other than the K Dramas. That was a weirdly hard sell to the man on top." You say, acting sheepish as Yuna let out a soft giggle, seemingly finding a small reprieve from this horror. Turning around, you took the tray you had brought in, opening it to reveal a pizza. Yuna hungrily grabbed at the Pizza, it must have been so long since she had last eaten proper food. "This is delicious" Yuna barely mumbled out, her words muffled by the pizza. You were glad you could bring happiness to her, but you were also secretly happy at your scheme going well. Unbeknownst to Yuna, the Pizza contained trace amounts of aphrodisiac. A small dose for the first day, but it'll slowly increase, driving her insane. As you sat with her, you allowed your fanboy side to come out, allowing Yuna to take her mind off her current situation. After around 30 minutes, Yuna had finished the pizza, and you received a message. She was on her way, you had to wrap it up. "I'm sorry Yuna, I have to go now. I told them to make sure they serve you and your groupmates good food, so eat up alright?" You shoot her a reassuring smile, and she hesitantly smiles back, before leaning toward you, leaving a kiss on your cheek. "I'll see you soon." She whispered.

Going back to your office, you saw a giant metal frame on wheels, the woman bound to it similar to how Chaeryoung was. Smiling in satisfaction, you took a moment, giving into desire as you leaned down, toying with the woman, a sudden burst of impulsiveness leading you to kneel down, shoving two fingers up her moist snatch as you roughly fingered her pussy, causing her body to thrash against the frame. Your fingers toyed with her till she finally came, squirting all over the floor. Coming back to your senses, you try to shake it off, slight shame overrunning you. You didn't want to take any pleasure from this.

Going into room 2, you saw Chaeryoung lightly panting, a light coat of sweat over her skin as she tried to stifle her arousal from the vibrator.

Setting up the woman you had brought in, you placed her right opposite to Chaeryoung, then moving to Chaeryoung, ripping her blindfold off.

As Chaeryoung's vision steadied, she could vaguely make out a figure who she assumed to be Ryujin, or Yuna maybe, but as her vision cleared, she almost screamed in terror.

Across from Chaeryoung, hung in a similar fashion, and in the same exact fashion, was her sister, Lee Chaeyeon.