What started out as a weird experiment quickly fell into a new routine.
It was almost embarrassing how eager --how desperate-- Ha-Joon was to mold herself into your perfect little girl.
She took everything you said to heart, no matter how minor. You mentioned off-hand that makeup and lingerie were only for grownups, so she stopped wearing them.
You gave her a list of rules, and she followed them to a T... It was kind of a shame. You didn't consider yourself a sadist, but you found yourself on your toes, looking for a reason to punish Ha-Joon, even if it was something as simple as an early bedtime.
The only thing that you could hold against her was that, while on her best behavior, she was always looking for a special reward.
You knew what she really wanted, but you weren't about to give it to her.
Instead, you took her on outings. Once you took her to the zoo, gave her five dollars worth of quarters so she could feed every animal in the petting enclosure. Another time, the two of you made a trip to the mall, where she was allowed to buy three books and a new stuffie.
She always said thank you but still looked disappointed whenever you put her to bed without so much as a goodnight kiss.
Weeks went by without so much as a whimper from her.
Until... Well.
You hid your pregnancy from Ha-Joon for as long as you could. You wore baggy clothing, avoided holding her close... The latter of which she had a huge issue with. She would pout and paw at you, suggest you climb in the tub with her during bathtime, beg to be spooned while the two of you watched something kid-friendly on TV.
She finally found out at the beginning of your second trimester.
She silently scootched out of her chair while you were at the stove making dinner, before creeping up and hugging you from behind.
Her arms moved to wrap around your waist... Except you didn't have a waist anymore. You felt her whole body tense up. As if still processing what she was feeling, she began to grope your baby bump, which you put up with for longer than anyone else would have. You only stopped her when she moved to pull up your shirt.
"That's enough," you told her, turning around in her embrace and pushing her away, holding her at arm's length.
"You're pregnant...?" She asked, already breathless and tearful. You didn't try to deny it. It would have been an insult to her intelligence to do so. Instead, you just nodded solemnly. That's when she began to cry in earnest. "Why didn't you tell me?"
You half-shrugged, didn't try to comfort her, not when she was acting so irrationally. "I didn't think you'd take it well."
"No shit!"
"Language!" You tutted at her condescendingly. One of her rules was that she wasn't allowed to curse or use other grownup words, and she knew that. You would decide on a proper punishment once this awful conversation was over.
"What is it? A boy or a girl?"
"It's none of your business is what it is."
"It's a girl, isn't it? Isn't it?!"
It was. You and Do-Yun just had the gender reveal party last weekend. Ha-Joon hadn't been invited, of course. You wanted to keep the relationship between the two of you as professional as possible.
You didn't answer her directly, instead answering her question with one of your own. "So what if it is?"
"I'm supposed to be your baby! I'm supposed to be your little girl!" She screamed, glaring at you as she curled her hands into fists by her side. "Just me. Only me."
"This is different, and you know it." She wasn't actually your child. This was all just an elaborate game you were playing, one that you were quickly tiring of.
"Get rid of it."
Now that stopped you in your tracks. "Excuse me?" Your tone came off as a clear warning: Take it back, or else.
"You heard me! Get. Rid. Of. It." Every word was defined with a stomp, the sharp slap of her bare foot hitting the tiled kitchen floor.
"You talk about killing my baby just like I would be getting a wart removed."
"It's not that different."
You should have slapped her, right then and there. But, as badly as you wanted to smack her right in her bratty little face, you knew a single hit in a moment of passion wasn't a good long-term solution. And every action has consequences.
"I'm keeping my baby, Ha-Joon. You'll just have to learn to share."
"I'm already letting you get married to someone who isn't me!"
"You're 'letting' me? You don't own me. I'm your babysitter, not your toy."
"Either way, you're still mine."
You hated it when she claimed to own you. You would have to remind her of the new power dynamic between the two of you, what things were really like now. "You know what? You need some time to calm down and stop talking crazy. You're in timeout, baby. One hour. Go to your room."
"This house is a fucking nightmare!" She let out one last screech before running away, out of the kitchen and up the stairs... Presumably up to her bedroom. It had better be up to her bedroom.
You plotted your revenge as you finished cooking dinner. You knew by the time food was done and put away exactly how you were going to punish Ha-Joon.
She was sitting with her head down at her desk when you opened her bedroom door. After an hour, she wasn't actively crying anymore, but her frame still trembled under the weight of her sadness.
"Ha-Joon?" You said, walking over and placing a hand on her shoulder, shaking her from her stupor.
She squinted up at you as if she were staring right into the sun. But you knew by now that crying made her eyes swell up into slivers.
"Are you ready for your punishment?" You asked in a low voice, barely above a whisper. The corners of your mouth were curled upwards in a little smile. It would be dishonest to act like you took no pleasure in hurting her.
Her brow furrowed, her frown lines deepened. "I'm sorry?" It wasn't a real apology, though. She was just asking for clarification.
You acted like it was anyway. "No, you're not," you corrected her. "But you're going to be." That wasn't a threat. It was a promise.
"What are you going to do? Spank me?" She scoffed, although her look was a little too bright for your taste. She hadn't liked spanking in the past, but she might now that she had a different perspective of it.
"No." Spanking was too good for Ha-Joon. "Follow me," you hummed before walking into her bedroom's attached bath. She dutifully followed you, without question. It was only fair that you give her some sort of warning. "The less you fight it, the sooner it will be over."
She blinked a couple times at your ominous tone. "Okay...?"
You gestured to the edge of the tub. "Take a seat." As soon as she sat down, you grabbed what you needed from the tray attached to the wall. "Now open your mouth."
She looked at what was in your hand with wide eyes before saying, "You're not really going to--"
You didn't bother asking her again. You tangled your fingers in her hair, wrenched her head back and parted her lips, just wide enough for you to force the bar of soap between them.
You had bitten into a bar of soap before, as a dare when you were young and too dumb to say no in the face of peer pressure.
So you knew all too well the full scope of that awful bitter, chemical taste that only coated your tongue further the more you gagged or reeled back, trying to stop the spread. It burnt at the insides of your cheeks, singed at top of your mouth, and set your throat ablaze.
After a count of five, you pulled it out.
"What do we say?" You asked, sounding warm and patient as any caretaker would be.
The look in Ha-Joon's eyes was murderous. "Fuck you!" She spat.
You forced it in further this time, didn't stop until the bar of soap hit the back of her throat and you had her gagging for a different reason.
After a count of fifteen, you pulled it out.
"What do we say?"
"I fucking hate you!"
She had spunk, you had to give her that.
You didn't just leave the bar in her mouth this time. Instead, you scrubbed it around, really working up a lather. At this rate, the taste of metal and mineral would linger on the backs of her teeth all night until she brushed them tomorrow morning.
After a count of thirty, you pulled it out again.
"What do we say?"
In her haste to reply, Ha-Joon gargled out something incomprehensible. As a courtesy, you waited for her to finish spitting up a mixture of saliva and bubbles onto the tile floor.
When she still didn't speak, just dry-heaved for a while, you asked again, "What do we say?"
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, okay? I won't do it again." She whimpered, but then she just had to ruin it with a little, "Mommy, please!"
Almost of their own volition, your eyes rolled up to the ceiling. "I'm not your mommy," you told her before tightening your grip on her hair and pressing the bar of soap back up to the seam of her lips.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Please, stop!"
You looked down at her, pleading and screaming, for a few beats, strangely thoughtful. Finally, you let her go and placed the soap back in its dish.
"Good girl. Now, next time you want to say a bad word or try to tell me what to do, I want you to remember this feeling, okay?" A couple bubbles blew out of her mouth as she hiccuped and sobbed. You had to bite your lip to keep from snickering. "Okay?"
"Yes!" Ha-Joon cried, obviously fearful of what would happen if she ignored your question a third time, and rightfully so.
Since you weren't completely heartless, you turned on the shower, grabbed the retractable head, and handed it to her so she could finish washing her mouth out.
"Poor baby. You must be exhausted." Your cooing came off as a little mocking, even to your own ears. "It'll be an early bedtime tonight, no supper. I'll make anything you like for breakfast tomorrow."
"Do you love me, Y/N?"
You didn't answer, just hummed. She must know you didn't, but confirming this would just lead to a longer crying jag.
"Let's get you ready for bed," you said instead.