#<--- the title is from it and it s on their playlist :)

[chirpsythismorning]

Yeah a teaser dropping on ST day would be cool. But can we agree that a DNA board reveal would be infinitely better?

[setyourfireonme]

2 in the end of the night we'll be together again / i told you to trust me, 'cause in the meantime i'll be here 4 if we both go down we go down together / in the wake of weak beginnings, we can still stand high 6 never been good with drawing a line / you keep me in the dark 8 we're made up of the same blood, i'll be your medicine if you let me / and if you're evil i'll forgive you by and by 10 i would kneel down and ask him, not to intervene when it came to you / i wanna live together in a petri dish, i can be algae you can be fungi 12 i want to bleed and feed us forever, but i want to feed the hunger inside / come on and rest your head, and i will protect you 14 i can love you more, more than they, i am moulded from more than clay / so take me home to you 16 would you come with me or would you resist? oh could you just give in / i could break a glass just to watch it shatter, i'd do anything just to feel with you 18 i'd wait my whole life, just to meet you / i look at this life, i only want me and you 20 forsaken heaven, to bring you my love / and i draw a line, to your heart today 22 and i am standing here calling out your name, 'cause you're my twin flame / sometimes our love is everlasting spotify

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

(Don't You) Steal My Thunder

my tyler owens playlist 🤝 inspiring fic titles

Tyler Owens x fem!reader  7k words

summary: Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. But he's set on getting you on his good side. And the more you get to know him, the less you can resist.

a/n: i had to research sm car stuff for this it's not funny. i now know exactly how to describe a truck bed though, so. that's fun.

again, my inbox is wide open <33 i don't guarantee anything, but you can always come talk to me or request smth

masterlist | twisters masterlist

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met.

He prints his face on t-shirts, writes his autograph on mugs, comes up with ridiculous sayings ("Not My First Tornadeo" and "If you feel it, chase it" are really just the tip of the ice berg) and most importantly, he costs you the best shots of tornadoes every goddamn time.

Tyler Owens is a problem.

And Tyler Owens seems to have actively decided to make himself a problem too.

Which would be fine, if he flipped you the bird or told you to fuck off or threw his paper towels at you. Unluckily, those are rather examples of what you have done to him. Because it's not fine, not at all - no, Tyler Owens has decided that it's not enough to be in your way all the time, he has to seek you out and rub your nose in it.

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. He's cocky and he's arrogant and he's entirely too full of himself. He brags too much and calls you "weather girl" too often. He gets under your skin more than you would ever admit.

And, as if all of that isn't enough - Tyler Owens is the very epitome of handsomeness.

It's like god didn't just have a good day when he created Tyler Owens, no, god must have still been in the post-haze of the best head he'd gotten in his whole immortal life when he'd created Tyler Owens.

Because Tyler Owens has the body of a greek god and the face of a Hollywood actor. He's not a pornstar, he's who pornstars worship. He's the Prince Charming little girls dream of and the Christian Grey grown women lust for.

Tyler Owens looks like everything you've ever wanted.

But he's just such a fucking asshole.

You wish you could say you didn't care. You'd love to be the kind of woman who didn't even acknowledge him. But you're not. You're not. You watch his videos when you can't sleep, you chuckle when you happen to overhear his jokes, you ogle his back when he's turned away from you. Sometimes, you get so lost in staring at him that you realise too late when he turns back around, and then you have to act unbothered when he grins his fucking grin at you. That's mostly when you flip him off, desperately fighting to ignore the heat in your cheeks.

Not like it stops him. You honestly feel like it only spurs him on.

Something has to seriously be wrong with him. It's not his face. But something is seriously wrong with him, you're sure of that.

Something has to be wrong with him. No sane person would ever go tornado wrangling. No hate to the rest of his crew - they're nice, you've managed to hold a few pretty normal conversations with them here and there - but none of them are sane either.

Storm chasing is different. You keep your distance. All you need are a few well-placed photographs - and those you can get from a rather safe number of miles away. The weather channel doesn't care about close-ups (not really, anyway). They want something to show the people on their comfortable couches, up in New Hampshire or Maine, so that all of them can say to each other "What poor folks, wouldn't wanna live there" and nod in pity as they switch the channel to watch another blockbuster.

You're just doing your job.

The only problem is that it's hard to do your job properly when there's always that fucking red truck in the way, driving down empty roads right into the heart of the tornado. And because no one on the news wants people to see that and go "Well, can't be too bad if there's still cars on the streets!", in the last few months - ever since you'd volunteered to move back to Oklahoma 'So that we've got someone right in Tornado Alley and don't have to fly people out there every time' - the weather channel has only shown the first few minutes of tornadoes forming. The rest of your pictures and videos lie abandoned in the trash file on your laptop. Except for a few - a very, very few, very, very good pictures of Tyler Owens and his Tornado Wranglers. But those won't ever see the light of day either.

You'd be damned if you let anyone know that while Tyler Owens is busy disturbing your actual work, you're busy taking pictures of him shooting fireworks into tornadoes. Pictures that would make for some damn good headers (if you hadn't buried them far, far down your gallery).

This time is no different. You get a few amazing shots of the tornado forming – surely an EF2, maybe even an EF3 - before you settle in the driver's seat again, your window rolled down and your camera hung around your neck as you push down on the gas. Then, a few miles further, you get even better shots of the full tornado, of the first few minutes of destruction, right there, in the middle of an empty field.

And as always, of course, just as the tornado takes on full form, you spot that familiar red truck through the lens of your camera. It speeds down the pavement right in front of where you’ve swerved onto the side of the road and you snap a few pictures, just because you’ve got the trigger right underneath your finger. Honestly, something about that dirty red paint against the grey skies just looks too good not to capture. But then the truck comes closer and closer and starts to slow down and you let your camera sink.

Tyler has his window rolled down already when he stops the car. There’s that annoyingly handsome grin on his lips, the one that makes you want to slap him across the face.

“You’re too far away, weather girl”, he calls out above the rumble of distant wind and thunder. “The good pictures are down that way.”

“The good pictures are right here.” You lift your camera at him. “Maybe you just need to update your equipment.”

Tyler’s grin widens, but before he can throw another of those obnoxious retorts your way, Lilly’s voice rings out through the car.

“Hey, T, looks like it’s changing course. You should hurry.”

His eyes are still glued to yours, still glued so firmly to yours that it makes your skin crawl. You can’t look away, couldn’t possibly look away. Tyler Owens might just be a cocky asshole, but you’re only human. And the weight of his gaze on yours is enough to keep you stuck in place, clutching at your camera.

“We’re on our way, Lilly”, he drawls without looking away from you. “See you around, weather girl.”

The rest of the pictures you take land in your trash file with all the other pictures of the last few weeks. You’re laying in bed, your laptop propped up against a pillow, the empty plate from dinner on the mattress next to you as you sort through today’s work. That’s the good thing about the time difference – you’ve got until seven to send the channel the day's results.

By nine, you’ve showered, put on a dress you feel confident in and settled on one of the chairs at the local bar. You’ve been telling yourself you need to get out a little bit more – you’ve been living here three months now and you haven’t really made any friends so far. To be fair, your job has kept you out and about most of the time. You’ve spent more hours at gas stations to fill up your tank than you have in your own home. But now you’ve decided to put an end to that. You're a young woman in a new town, you can meet more people than just the cashier at the local supermarket.

So for the past twenty minutes, you’ve been nursing a mojito at the counter and talking to the bartender. She’s nice, she’s your age, she’s extroverted enough to keep sidling up to you after every time she has to excuse herself to do her job. That, and she tells you she’s grown up here, so she knows most of the people around. She’s just serving another customer – a long-haired, brown-eyed, hat-wearing country guy who’s already shared a smile or two with you – when someone rests their arm on the countertop next to you.

“Didn’t expect to see you here”, he drawls, all low, deep Southern accent and you recognise his voice before you’ve even tilted your head up and looked at him. His grin drips down onto his words and wraps itself around your mind.

Tyler Owens isn’t just annoying – he’s unbelievable. He's unbelievable and he’s here.

“So you’re stalking me now”, you say, as drily as you can possibly manage. You've been doing that a lot around him. Dead-panning everything. Schooling your expression into fake neutrality.

"I'm here all the time, weather girl", he grins. "If anything, you're stalking me."

You snort, but it's rather unfunny when you think of all the videos you've watched, hours after they'd been livestreamed, cuddled up in your bed until midnight just to stare at his face. He's not that far from the truth.

"In your dreams, Owens", you say anyway, dragging your eyes back towards your almost empty cocktail glass. You wrap your lips around your straw and drain your drink entirely. What you say and what you do, none of that matters in the end. All of this is just show. Every conversation you've had with Tyler Owens in the last three months has been nothing but a performance. Other than your name, you don't think a single sentence out of your mouth has been honest. Not when it comes to him.

"Let me buy you a beer" is the only answer you get.

His grin widens when you look back up again - so cocky, so unbelievably cocky.

"I don't drink."

You push your glass an inch further down the bar top. Tyler raises his eyebrows. Fuck, someone really needs to kick him in the face. You can't keep having all these little heart attacks whenever he's close enough that you could touch him if you wanted.

Not that you want to.

"You're drinking right now", he says. You rest your palms against the bar top and blink at him.

"I don't drink with you."

He lets out a chuckle, one of those deep ones that settle right in your chest and make it hard to swallow.

"Just this once?", he asks and in all honesty, for just a second there, you actually consider giving in. He's too handsome for his own good. You really need to get it together. He's an ass (what an ass, goddamn). And he's insane. He's an insane ass. Sometimes you have to remind yourself of that - those times like now, when his piercing eyes and his kissable lips and his rugged stubble and his broad, broad shoulders and his drawled voice overshadow everything else.

"Don't you have some livestreaming to do?", you ask, hoping it still comes across just as sarcastic when you're the slightest bit distracted by how gloriously tight the sleeves of his flannel are. "Go chasing tornadoes, not me."

His grin widens inexplicably further. You're sure that if you were in a comic, there'd be a lightbulb flashing above his head right about now.

"Well", he drawls, "if you feel it..."

"Don't you do that shit to me, Owens."

He's raising his eyebrows again, raising his eyebrows as you clasp your hand around your empty glass so hard your knuckles turn white. But you're serious. Just as you'd lost yourself in the view of him, that angelic, sinful view of him, he'd gone and reminded you why you were so adamant to keep your distance. If you feel it, chase it. Ridiculous. Obnoxious. He's an arrogant, know-it-all, suicidal job-wrecker. He's the guy with cameras pointed at him everywhere he goes. He signs mugs and selfies and hats and shirts and bras. He's the reason you haven't gotten a single un-edited shot of a fully formed tornado in the last three months.

"You're not a fan of my catchphrase, weather girl?"

He can't even pretend to look wounded (even though he tries) with how big the grin on his lips still is. You stare right at him, dead-eyed and unflinching.

"I'm not a fan of you."

Lies slip off your tongue so easily by now that you wonder when you'd become morally compromised enough to not even care anymore. It must've happened somewhere along the way, sometime between the first conversation you'd had with him and the one you're having with him right now.

"You wound me", he grins, his palm pressed to his chest.

For the first time tonight, you allow yourself to grin back at him.

"I try."

With that, you slip off your chair and wave the bartender goodbye. You're already two steps away when Tyler calls after you.

"I'd still buy you a beer."

"I'm still not drinking with you", you call back. You don't turn around again. You just make your way back to your car and mark the evening as a half-successful night of socialising on your to-do list.

...

You see him again first thing the next day. Of course. Because there's no tornadoes without the Tornado Wranglers on their tail. By now, you're used to it. You wave at Dani as they come back out of the store at the gas station you're waiting at. They've got both arms full of coffees and for a second, you consider offering your help, but then you hear Tyler shout something out of his car and you suddenly don't feel any desire whatsoever to get up. You've sat yourself down in your truck bed, your camera slung around your neck and the radar on your lap. If all goes right, you're hoping for a tornado to form a little to the east from here. And as much as you dislike Tyler Owens, the fact that he's here soothes your nerves. Where he goes, there's sure to be tornadoes close by.

The few times you hadn't seen him had never ended well for you. You'd missed an EF3 your second week here just because you'd followed the wrong hunch. Meanwhile Tyler, of course, had been in the middle of it.

This might just be the one singular situation that you welcome seeing his red truck around. As long as you can manage to overtake him on the road after.

It's not that you need to be faster. You don't need to reach the tornado first. You don't even take the same way as him most of the time. He wants in there, you just want a sensible picture. Still, you can't help but feel a pang of disappointment every time you hit the brakes and jump out of your car, miles away from the actual cell as Tyler speeds down towards it. You've been telling yourself that it's because he ruins your pictures. It kind of is.

"Hey, weather girl!"

You let out a resigned breath as you tilt your head up and squint against the sun. He's still in his truck, his window rolled down, his elbow propped up against the car door.

"What do you want, Owens?"

Your fingers itch to reach for your camera. It's a visual, him in that fucking car, leaning out of his window with the sun peaking out behind him. But you can't, you can't take a picture of him this openly. Even if you were to argue that it's just the light you'd wanted to capture.

"To give you some advice", he calls out, his lips pulling into a grin. You raise your eyebrows at him. "East isn't gonna work out. Wind's changing. Go south."

He throws you a mock salute and hits the gas before you can say anything else.

Not that you'd been about to.

Instead you just curse to yourself, jump off the truck bed and throw your treacherous technology into the passenger seat with a little too much vigor. Fuck this. You sit at the steering wheel and stare out at the sky for exactly two seconds before you make your decision. Then you start your car and drive south.

You may not be a fan of Tyler Owens, but you've long since admitted to yourself that this man has got a gift. He has an unbeatable instinct when it comes to storms. And sure, you have your fair share of knowledge, but in the end, you're a photographer, not a meteorologist. You won't miss a day's work just because you're too proud to listen to Tyler.

You're a little further behind, but you can spot his truck and guess that he's driving straight on into the cell today, so you take a right and decide to try your luck with the side of the tornado. Not being right in its path doesn't sound too bad anyway.

You actually manage to snap a few well-placed pictures. You don't know what Tyler's doing, but it seems like he's not shooting random shit up the cell today. You'll watch the stream later - you're just the slightest bit curious now what's happening with them. Maybe they're doing some old-school chasing? Or maybe they're doing a challenge. Maybe Tyler is driving blindfolded. At this point, who knows.

It's good for you though. It's a considerable tornado today, an EF2 at least, and you only spot Tyler's red truck again when the cell moves further down the fields, away from him. It doesn't look like it's gonna disappear anytime soon. Maybe today's your lucky day.

Half an hour later, you're sure you've got at least a dozen pictures of the fully formed tornado, long touched down and without the red truck in the way.

You're just packing up your things, already sifting through the photos on your camera, squinting against the sunlight, trying to both tug the zipper of your bag closed and hit the right buttons at the same time when Tyler pulls up next to you.

"You look busy, weather girl", he says, already grinning that damn grin again.

"I am", you say - truthfully, for once. You let go of your bag and lower your camera. You're hesitant, but... "Thanks for the tip."

"Anytime", he grins. "Just do me one favour."

You already know this can't be good. Not with that cheeky look on his face. But he'd just saved you from chasing hot air (quite literally), so he deserves a little treat. And you don't want unsettled scores with Tyler Owens.

"I want to know what favour that's supposed to be before I agree", you say anyway, because with him, you can never be too careful. And in the end, you're only willing to do so much. (Though for him, you'd already do a lot more than you'd admit. A lot more than you hope he's aware of.)

"Let me buy you a beer", he says, and for once, he sounds serious.

The memory of yesterday night flashes before your eyes, of those same words at the bar. With him so close, way too close - with that grin and that stubble and that voice and those shoulders. You cross your arms and stare at him.

"If you're livestreaming this, I'm gonna sue your ass so hard."

He just lets out a chuckle and raises his hands in surrender.

"Cameras are off, I swear."

You stare at him for another silent ten or so seconds. At him in that fucking truck that looks just a little too good in your pictures. At him and his fucking face. That fucking face that you certainly wouldn't mind sitting on, if just to shut him up.

God, he's asking you to drink something with him. He's asking to buy you something to drink with him. You're stupid.

You're so, so stupid.

"Alright, cowboy", you say, uncrossing your arms and reaching for the handle of your car door. "I'll humour you."

...

You're in the bar again by nine that night, the same way you had been the day before. You're wearing a different dress and there's a different bartender, but you've ordered the same mojito and chosen the same place to sit.

Only this time, you're actively watching the door. And when Tyler strolls in, you've got to shift around in your seat and cross your legs. You don't even pretend you're not staring. You just ogle him openly. Not for the first time ever - you'd checked him out very obviously when he'd strutted towards you to introduce himself three months ago - but definitely for the first time in a while. And god yeah, he's a hunk of a man, alright. If you had your camera here right now...

But you don't. So instead, you drop your eyes to his feet (brown leather boots), drag them up his legs (blue jeans), over his chest (red checkered flannel), over his face (god, what you wouldn't give-) and finally rest them on the cowboy hat on top of his head.

When he's close enough to hear you, already grinning, of course, probably at how you're actually sitting there in the same spot as yesterday and hadn't just lied to his face about coming here, you raise your eyebrows at him.

"A cowboy hat?", you ask, your voice as unbothered as you can possibly manage (even though you're very, very, very much bothered right now). His grin only widens.

"Ladies love country boys", he drawls with a shrug.

"Now that's straight out of a song", you say. "You're getting lazy, Owens."

"A song?", he asks. "No, that's an Owens Original."

You pull your eyebrows even further up.

"Ladies love country boys? Trace Adkins?"

"Nope. Not familiar."

But his grin tells you that he's lying. He's a liar. He knows very well where he got that line from. And he knows just how easily he got under your skin with his simple trick. As if his face isn't enough already.

You just shake your head and turn away from him.

"Put your money where your mouth is, Owens. Buy me a beer."

...

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. But he's also a great conversationalist.

The hours fly by as you're talking. One beer turns into two, then into an uncountable number of soft drinks. You both agree that you need to drive home, neither of you is willing to risk a run-in with the police. You need your drivers license for your jobs.

Tyler talks to you about the pictures you've taken today, then about the pictures from last week. He laughs when you blame him for ruining half of them and almost spits out his coke when you slap his arm for laughing at you. He tells you about his crew, about the people they've helped with the money from their dumb t-shirt sales. You think you hate him less by the minute. You're not sure if you're okay with that. But he gets you talking about your childhood and your parents, about school and college and about how you've wound back up here in Oklahoma. That effectively distracts you.

That, and how his cocky grin morphs into a genuine smile the more you open up.

Not that you didn't love the cocky grin. You did, just a bit. As obnoxious as it was. But the way he smiles at you all sweet has you melting right in your spot.

It's not the first time you realise that beneath all that rough exterior, there beats a heart of gold. You've known what those t-shirt sales are for, that he offers food and water after a tornado hits a town, that he carries the injured out of the ruins of their houses and helps find lost dogs. The more you've been around him in the past weeks, the more you've seen of his soft side. Of the way he cares and supports. But in the end, it always is easier to go back to the status quo - to fall back onto mindless snark and fleeting first impressions.

You'd clung so desperately to the image of him as this arrogant, smug, holier-than-thou influencer god for the sole purpose of keeping your own sanity. Because you'd known that without despising him, you would fall head over heels for Tyler Owens, and you just couldn't have that.

But now, with his arm brushing against yours and his hat discarded on the bar top and his smile, that beautiful, beautiful smile on his lips...

"Five bucks", he drawls, already reaching for his wallet.

"What?"

"Five bucks says there won't be a tornado tomorrow."

You raise your eyebrows at him, your glass hovering in mid-air between the two of you. You'd meant to take a sip, but now you're setting it right back down on the bar top.

"You're shitting me."

Tyler just shakes his head. He's grinning again, but it's much softer this time around.

"The winds are looking great. The forecast says it's gonna be the best conditions for tornadoes we've seen in the last six weeks. I've heard Dexter talk about how we're probably gonna see an EF4 tomorrow", you tell him, even though you're sure he's well aware of all of it. This is Tyler Owens, for god's sake. He knows about the winds and the forecasts. He knows that his crew is making preparations already.

His grin only grows. And it's smug now. It's cocky now. It's everything you thought you'd left behind during this conversation. He looks like the Tornado Wrangler again, like the guy who fucks up your pictures and makes your job harder than it already is.

It takes you a second too long to realise why.

"Dexter said that on our live", he grins, as if he can't quite believe what he's hearing. You physically recoil from him. "Do you watch our streams, weather girl?"

"No", you breathe, rigid and frozen, shocked to your very core. No, no, no, no, this cannot be happening. This cannot be happening. You'd... You hadn't made that mistake. He hadn't got you to make that mistake.

"Dexter talked about tomorrow on our live", Tyler says again, straightening his back and grinning down at you like he's just uncovered the lost grave of Cleopatra. "Only on the live. You watched our stream."

"No", you mutter, your eyes wide and your mouth dry, so dry. You need to drink. You need to drink so badly. "No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did. You watched our stream, honey."

The petname runs down your spine and clogs your senses. Honey. Oh, he's an ass, he's an asshole! But you're on the spot, you're on the spot and he's calling you honey, honey, honey. You can't do anything but watch as he leans closer to you, grinning down at you like it's his one true purpose on this earth, like he wants to eat you alive.

"I'd say you watch our streams pretty regularly, weather girl."

You swallow hard and clasp your hand around your glass.

"Yeah?", you breathe, hoping against all hope that your voice sounds somewhat innocent. You're sure it doesn't. You know it doesn't. You probably sound as guilty as you are, but... Hope dies last. Hope always dies last. "Why would you say that?"

"Just a hunch." He shows off those pearly fucking whites for you. "Call it an instinct. I'm usually right."

He is.

He's right now. He's right usually.

Him and his fucking instinct. His goddamn gut feeling about tornadoes, always right all the fucking time. He's like an Oklahoma Jesus. The first coming of Tornado Christ.

Fuck him.

Fuck him.

"I'll take your bet." You drain your glass at once. "Give me your five bucks, Owens."

You don't think it'll work. You don't think he'll let you distract him. You don't think it'll be this easy to stop his vile teasing. He's not the type of guy to let something go. He's not the type of guy to let anything go ever. But he looks at you and he grins at you and he trails his eyes over your face and then he opens up his wallet and pulls out five dollars without another word.

He puts the bill flat on the bar top.

But when you go to reach for it, he pushes his fingers down.

"The price just went up", he says.

You raise your eyebrows and let your hand sink again. Tyler is absolutely unpredictable. You should've known.

"The price just went up?", you repeat. He nods. "What more do you want to bet?"

He's closer now, closer all of a sudden. He's too close, close enough to make your breath hitch. He's looking down at you with that cocky, cheeky grin, with his weirdly green eyes, with his three day stubble and his generally much too symmetrical face. You can't do anything but look back up at him.

"A kiss", he says. Simple as that.

A kiss.

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. He is. Truly. He's annoying and way too full of himself and much too presumptuous. Tyler Owens is the only man who would ever do something like this. The only man who'd bet a kiss on whether or not there will be tornadoes tomorrow.

Especially with that forecast.

The one that says a tornado is basically inevitable.

"Alright", you say. He may be Tyler Owens, the guy with an infallible instinct - but he is also Tyler Owens, the guy who's been doing his hardest to get under your skin. This time might not be any different. For all you know, he's bluffing to rile you up. "I'm in."

...

At eleven the next day, you're standing next to Dexter in resigned silence.

"I really thought today was gonna pan out", you mutter.

"It should have", Dexter frowns, tapping against the screen in his hands. "It should have worked out. The conditions should have been perfect. Everything's been building the last few days."

"But it collapsed this morning."

You turn your head and watch as Tyler comes to a stand next to you, arms crossed, eyes locked on the clear sky up above. He tilts his head to you and grins. Fuck, he's wearing his goddamn hat again. It's like he doesn't even try to be normal.

"Hey, weather girl", he greets. "Ready to cash out your bet?"

You shake your head at him. No, you're not giving up this easily. You never give up this easily.

"The day's not over yet, Owens. You haven't won 'til midnight."

...

You spend most of the next hours sitting in your truck bed, reading a book you'd thrown into your backseat weeks ago and had so far neglected. Lilly hands you lunch around two, Dani offers you a coffee around five and Boone pipes up here and there to joke about the wasted day. Around six, Dexter comes by to let you know they're calling it.

You still have another hour to go. By seven, it'll be too late to send your pictures anyway. But you want the hour. You need the hour.

You still haven't decided what to do about Tyler. About Tyler and his fucking bet.

He's been loitering the whole day, walking by, joking around with his crew, livestreaming a spontaneous q&a just because.

And the more minutes tick by, the harder it is to keep ignoring that you've most definitely lost the bet. Even though you do your best. You read, you check your phone. You stare at your radar. You stare at the weather forecast. You talk to Dexter and Dani and Lilly and Boone. You take a few pictures of the sky. Then you take a few pictures of Tyler, standing some feet away from his truck and looking out at the clouds.

It's only when two of three Tornado Wranglers cars are disappearing down the road, when Tyler Owens suddenly stands in front of your truck bed, that you put down your book and face reality.

"No tornadoes in sight", he says, instead of 'Hello' or 'How are you' like any other person would.

"There's still six hours left", you reason. Even if only one of those is relevant for your job today.

"You really want to wait out six hours to prove I'm right?"

"You're not right", you argue. It's fruitless, it's stupid, it's unreasonable. But... "Not yet, anyway."

Tyler raises his eyebrows at you, lets out an amused chuckle and leans against the side of your truck bed.

"Alright, so we wait."

You eye him from the side. He's fucking leaning against your truck, staring out at the sky, talking about six hours. Goddamn. He can't be serious, can he? His crew is already gone. They've disappeared into the descending sun and he's talking about waiting another six hours. Leaned against your car.

"Fuck's sake, Owens", you sigh, scooching over to the right. "At least sit down then."

You don't talk much at first. You just open your book back up again and try your hardest to ignore that he's even here at all, barely two feet away from you on the other side of your truck bed. If you stretched your leg, you'd hit him right in the hip.

It makes reading close to impossible.

Even though he's not doing anything at all. He's just sitting there, one arm propped up on the side board, that goddamn cowboy hat on his head and his feet hanging off the opened tailgate. It's almost worse that he's not doing anything.

That he's just sitting there and watching the sky change.

You give up on reading entirely when you realise that you've finished exactly five pages in half an hour. Instead, you put your book back in the car, pull out your bluetooth speaker and two water bottles and offer Tyler one of them.

You don't even ask him what music he wants to listen to. You just put on your country playlist and roll with it. By the twitch of his lips, you know he certainly doesn't mind.

Another half hour later, it's starting to get chilly and you're beginning to grow bored of the music. Tyler sitting next to you makes you fidgety, somehow, and you can't really enjoy the songs you usually love so much. So you switch to a podcast. You don't ask Tyler if he minds. He's free to go anytime.

Around eight, the sun starts to set, and the chill turns into an unpleasant cool. You hadn't really expected to be sitting out here so long. You're not prepared for the temperature to drop. You're wearing shorts, for god's sake, shorts and a top. It's summer in Oklahoma - you don't know how Tyler even manages to survive in his long jeans. You certainly wouldn't.

But now you're a little jealous, to be honest. He doesn't look cold in the slightest while you're fighting off shivers. You can feel your hands trembling already.

You really should've brought a jacket. But who brings jackets in 30 degree summer weather?

So instead, you just resign yourself to your fate and rub your hands along your arms. Anything to get some warmth into your body.

For the first time since you've sat back down, Tyler turns his head and looks at you.

"You're cold", he says, eyes raking over your arms and the goosebumps you'd gotten.

"Great observational skills, Sherlock Holmes", you deadpan, even though he doesn't really deserve that. He had so far left you pretty much alone. "A+ on that assignment."

Well, it's hard to break bad habits.

Tyler just chuckles, shakes his head and pushes off of the truck bed. You watch, eyes narrowed, as he walks back to his own car, opens up the trunk and- pulls out a blanket?

Your hands have sunken down to your lap all by themselves by the time he's standing in front of you again, holding out the blanket.

"For you, Watson", he grins as you slowly, carefully take the blanket from him. You mutter something along the lines of a soft 'Thank you' before you wrap the blanket around your arms.

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. But he's also the very definition of "Tough on the outside, soft on the inside". Sometimes, you think the word 'angelic' works for more than just his divine looks.

Your eyes are glued to him as he sits back down next to you and looks out at the darkening sky with that signature grin on his lips, like he knows that you're watching him and enjoys it more than he should. That doesn't deter you though. For the very first time. You don't even stop staring when he turns his head back to you. You don't even stop staring then.

You just look at him until his grin crumbles. Until he's smiling that smile from yesterday night, the one that has your heart squeezing together and then exploding in your chest. You think you could stare at that smile for the rest of eternity and never feel sated.

"What?", he asks, his voice so soft it makes you swallow. Your lips part, but there's no words on your tongue, none in your throat. They're stuck in your chest somewhere, wrapped around your heart so tightly that you can't let them go even now. So you just press your lips together, wrap your blanket tighter around yourself and say:

"So I'm Watson, yeah?"

Your podcast is long forgotten by the time the sky turns dark. So dark that you make Tyler climb into your car and turn on the lights. You're comfortable in your blanket, you don't feel the need to move.

It's around ten when the blanket isn't enough anymore.

You tuck your hands underneath your top, but that only helps for so long. A few minutes later, you're trembling again, trembling even though you're pulling the blanket as tightly around you as you possibly can. Tyler raises his eyebrows when a particularly heavy shiver runs down your spine, one of those that come and go within three seconds.

"Come here", he says, shuffling in his spot and motioning for you to move over to him. You don't really think about it. It's more of a reflex as you fumble the blanket off of your body, scooch over to him, settle yourself against his side and sneak your feet under his thigh. He tugs the blanket back up to your chin, tucks it in behind your back and wraps his arms around you.

Tyler Owens wraps his arms around you.

And he's so fucking warm you literally almost moan. God, you hadn't actually realised just how cold you'd been.

"Damn, you're freezing", he notes as well, just as you nestle further into him and hum in agreement. He's like a living heater right now. You'd like to just crawl inside of him and suck up all his warmth. "You should've told me sooner."

"I didn't tell you at all", you mutter, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. He smells good. He smells so good. Earthy, musky somehow. You're tempted to turn your head and bury your nose in his shoulder.

Instead, you just satisfy yourself with what you can get. Fuck, he smells so good. He smells just like you'd thought he would, like country and rodeo and thunderstorms. He smells like falling into bed at the end of a successful chase. He smells like more. You want more.

You want more of Tyler Owens.

"Are you sniffing me?", he asks suddenly, but he sounds so amused you can't even bring yourself to feel embarrassed. You just open your eyes and grin at him, tilting your head so you can look up at him.

"What if I am?", you ask, if only to hear that breathless chuckle fall from his lips. Oh, those lips. You're in trouble. "Are you gonna call the cops on me?"

"I could never."

"Yeah, you better not, cowboy", you mutter, eyes dropping to his lips when he grins. He's so close. He's way too close. "There's like thirty things I could call the cops about on your channel."

His grin grows until he's showing off his teeth, glinting against the low light of the leds in your car. He's closer now.

"So you do watch our streams, weather girl."

His voice is so low and he's so close, so close. Your lips part all on their own. You haven't looked back up at his eyes in too long. Far too long. But he's so close, and he's so warm, and he smells so good.

"Alright", you whisper. His mouth is barely an inch from yours. You can feel every breath he takes. "I watch your streams."

And then your lips are on his.

Tyler Owens is the most annoying man you've ever met. He's cocky and he's smug. He makes your job harder than it has to be. He does everything and anything to get under your skin. But Tyler Ownes is the best goddamn kisser this side of the globe.

He trails his hands, his big, big hands, down your sides, pushes the blanket out of the way and grabs at your waist with just enough firmness. He pulls you onto his lap and rests his thumbs over the hem of your top. He breathes into your mouth and takes it slow. He doesn't care that you almost knock his hat out of the way when you try to wrap your arms around his neck. He just holds you tightly to him and lets you tug on his lip.

You honestly don't know how much time has passed when he pulls back, grinning an entirely new grin at you, hazy and euphoric.

"It's not midnight yet", he mutters, the slightest bit out of breath.

"I don't care", you mumble, drawing him right back in for another kiss. You think you might be addicted. You simply can't get enough of him. You can't get enough of Tyler Owens.

But then a thought strikes you, and you pull away with a grin that makes him raise his eyebrows.

You chuckle against his lips.

"If you feel it, chase it, right?"

[briarlovesclara]

happiness hit her, like a bullet in the back

ways to say i love you number 19: with no space left between us | ryley and maverick ♦️ (romantic)

this is a part of the 35 ways to say "i love you" writing collection. check out the rest!

(characters belong to me and my best friend @lovenoteprince)

PREVIEW/SYNOPSIS:

"Ryley was staring with his arms crossed, unimpressed. Despite the grumpiness of the look, Maverick let himself relax, playfulness melting into a gentle, soft smile. He smiled so much more now, with him, he thought. He’d have to make sure his cheeks weren’t strained."

content warnings: none

(context: ryley is mute due to trauma from his past and also does not like to be touched. maverick is his boyfriend who loves and respects his boundaries. very rarely, ryley initiates touch, but only with the ones he loves the most. ryley uses british sign language and i take full responsibility for any inaccuracies.)

“Good morning, love.” Maverick said, voice crackly from sleep. He was leaning against the doorframe to their bedroom, looking into the kitchen, where his partner was studiously watching eggs frying on the pan. 

At his words, Ryley turned, a soft smile creeping onto his face to match the one on Maverick’s. He waved, careful to keep one hand on the handle of the pan. Maverick snorted. 

“You have quite the death grip on that pan, there.” He teased, crossing the room to lean against the counter the stove was on. Ryley gave him a deadpan expression, clearly remembering the last time he had tried to make eggs (the pan was heavier than he had thought when he picked it up, causing him to drop it-- however, it was surprisingly light when he bumped into it and caused hot eggs to splat across the kitchen). Rolling his eyes, Ryley turned back to his task, shifting his grip on the handle only once before squeezing it surely again. Maverick let out a mock offended gasp. “Not even a good morning for me?”

Ryley looked back at him before slowly pointing with his left hand at the stove in front of them both, as if he may be dumb. 

“Rye, it’s not going to fly off if you let go for just a second--” 

A decisive shake of his head cut off Maverick’s words. He tried to keep a serious composure, but he couldn’t help a goofy smile spreading across his face at the sight. God, what am I going to do with him? An idea quickly formed, and he hoped his devious joy wasn’t reflected on his face. By the skeptical and concerned look on Ryley’s face, he was failing spectacularly, but he couldn’t really find the energy in him to care. 

Slowly, carefully, he reached out his hand to the pan handle, aiming for the end closest to the pan and forcing Ryley to back his hand away to keep a space between the two. Ryley’s mouth dropped open in fake outrage, right hand twitching like he wanted to say something, but resolve not yet broken.

“What’s wrong, love?” Maverick teased gently, placing more and more of his hand on the handle, forcing his partner’s off by inches. “Just tell me what’s going on!”

With a huff, Ryley finally gave up, hand flying off of the handle to join his other at chest level as he began to sign furiously.

‘Maverick, I swear to God! You could have burned yourself! You’re so close to the pan!’ He signed, brows furrowing. Maverick let out a laugh, loud and bright, and Ryley made it as if to smack him playfully before backing off at the last second. 

“I’m fine, love. And see? The eggs are all done!” Maverick said, turning to the stove and cranking the heat down before getting a spatula and serving them onto the plate Ryley had set aside. When he turned back, Ryley was staring with his arms crossed, unimpressed. Despite the grumpiness of the look, Maverick let himself relax, playfulness melting into a gentle, soft smile. He smiled so much more now, with him, he thought. He’d have to make sure his cheeks weren’t strained.

Ryley responded by uncrossing his arms, fake tension draining as he finally hit Maverick with his own dazzling, toothed smile. As always, it sucked the air out of Maverick’s lungs, leaving him spinning and breathless the same way he’d been the first time he’d seen it. It was full of joy, and love, and safety, and the mere thought that Ryley felt that around him almost made him pass out every time the epiphany struck. 

He was so beautiful.

Slowly, he walked up to Ryley, letting out a deep breath and standing only a half a foot away from him. Ryley closed the rest of the gap, shifting until only an inch was between them so that Maverick’s head, leaned forward and to the side, almost hit his shoulder. Maverick could almost feel the fuzz of Ryley’s cheek on his, could hear his partner’s gentle inhale and exhales. He closed his eyes, feeling his breath bounce off of Ryley’s sweater and radiate back at him, smelling the freshly cooked eggs as the smell saturated the air. 

“I love you.” He murmured, voice soft and low, letting the words sit comfortably between them, eyes still closed. After a moment, he felt the faintest of touches on his hands, pulling them lightly from his side to up between their chests so that the backs bumped into each other’s shirts. His breath shook slightly as he felt Ryley’s soft fingertips settle his hands over the other’s, so that even with his eyes still closed he could read the sign, flat hands crossed over on the left side of his partner’s chest. 

‘I love you too.’

[yuvany]

HEART SHAPED EYES

꒰ 𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐍 when they're caught admiring you ꒱

OT7 ENHYPEN x f ! reader CONTENT / WARNING(S) fluff WORD COUNT : 976 CHECK BOX !!

don't forget to reblog or like if you liked this !

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚

"You look like a fool, Heeseung." His friend, Riki commented with a cackle and cheeky grin. "You don't get it, you're too young." Heeseung snaps back, his eyes still trailing your figure as you walk around the library with your friends whilst looking at books, giggling amongst yourselves. "If you really love her, just go and confess." Heeseung shakes his head with a click of his tounge. "I can't." "Then don't stare at her like you two are already together." Riki rolls his eyes and snaps his fingers in his face to wake his friend from his trance that you had unintentionally set him under. "I'm not staring!" He calls out, a bit too loud, accidentally making you and your friends' heads turn to him.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚

He had stayed behind after their training session to 'catch-up' on his own. The others believed him and told him goodnight before heading to their own rooms. Jay hums to himself and groove along to the songs he had been singing. Jay takes a deep breath and picks up his phone to send you a message. As he clicks the send button, he sprung up and throws his phone onto the bags for a cushioned landing before running around the studio. After calming down, he sits in front of the mirror and looks at himself before talking with himself. "y/n, you are so pretty and funny-" before he manages to finish, he hears the door creak open and Jake walks inside with a stunned face. "I heard that." "No you didn't." Jake then bursts out laughing.

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡

He had created a playlist just for you, though it was more like a playlist inspired or meant for you since he never had the courage to confess his feeling. The playlist was labelled with your initial and a heart, and set on private so that no one, absolutely no one, would figure out his little secret. Jake had been playing the same playlist for what seemed to be over a week by now, but he could never get tired of it. One day though, he shared his airpod with Sunghoon. "This song is nice. What is it called?" He asked, and Jake carelessly handed his phone over to Sunghoon who looked at the screen, his eyes noticing the title of the playlist. "Am I seeing this correct?" Jake starts getting sweaty and gulps. "What?" "The name of the playlist is very...how do I say this." Jake snatches his phone back, cutting him off.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗛𝗢𝗢𝗡

You had tagged along for their photoshoot to help when needed. It all seemed to go smoothly, everyone knowing what to do and the day's schedule. You had gone onto your phone, trying to find something to entertain you when Sunghoon walks up to you. He clears his throat nervously. You look up and raise an eyebrow. "Hey y/n." Sunghoon stands there awkwardly with his hands on the sides of his body. "Hi Hoon. Need something?" You ask. "Could you help me with this tie, please." He says and hands you a navy and white striped tie. "Of course." You smile, and stand up from your seat. As you tie it around his neck, his eyes are glued to your face and slowly trail down to your lips. Of course Jake had to bump into his shoulder just then and give him a smirk.

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢

Everyone was gathered behind the scene, you as their special guest and vip to be able to support them from behind the stage. Everyone poses at the sound of their manager counting down and then the camera snaps. The two youngest run over and inspect the photo closely before calling the rest over as well. You take a quick glance at it and approve of it. "Could you send it to me later, please?" You ask, and they nod. You then take a look at the time and say farewell because you need to be part of the crowd, and they let you go after handshakes and hugs. "Sunoo, look here." Riki taps Sunoo on the shoulder and points to him in the photo where he is looking at something. "What is it?" Sunoo asks, and Jungwon who at first was confused finally seemed to connect the dots and balled up in laughter. Riki's pointer travles to where Sunoo's eyes are, and they led to you.

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡

"You're doing it again." Sunoo sighs from beside him. Jungwon looks at him puzzled and then turn around again, trying to remember what he was doing. "Doing what?" He asks. Sunoo diverts his eyes over to you before looking at him again. When Jungwon doesn't get it, Sunoo repeats it again, but a lot faster and aggrevated. Sunoo sighs before leaning over to whisper to Jungwon, "You've been staring at her for a while. Again." When Sunoo parts he sees that Jungwon's eyes have been connected with you again. "So?" He asks. "So...it's creepy." Sunoo wrinkles his forehead in confusion and looks inbetween you and Jungwon before groaning and giving up.

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜

When rehearsing, Riki finds himself turing to you for feedback and opinions even though he is a lot more of an exppert when it comes to dancing than you. "It literally looks perfect, not sure what input I should make?" You comment, shifting your weight from one leg to another as you speak with him, your eyes shifting around the room's ceiling. "Really? Thanks." He says and spins around, letting you be for a while. As he is faced away from you, he has a grin on his face. The rest of his group members stare at him with wide eyes as they look around to see if anyone else was seeing what they were seeing. "What?" Riki hisses after noticing. "You're lovetsruck and it shows bro."

[wizlizbelle3]

My challenge to induce pure consciousness before 2025

Hello everyone,

So I know that in my earlier posts I said that I am not really in favor of challenges but I see a lot of people struggling and overcomplicating the void and I've decided to make a challenge that will get you into the void state in less than 3 days if you really stick to it, and if you don't stick to it consistently, you'll still be able to get into the void before December 25th (which is like 26 days away from now). I edited the title to say new year’s bc people are already losing hope lol

The challenge is to use SATs to enter the void state and I'll explain how. But first, y'all need to understand what the void is exactly.

SO when you have to eat your breakfast, do you google or search youtube videos on how to eat? Or if you want to fall asleep, do you google how to fall asleep? We actually don't know what causes us to fall asleep if you think about it. So when we set the intention, our subconscious follows through because we've always been doing it and no one told us that sleeping is not real. So the void state is just another state of consciousness that doesn't need to be forced and it cannot be forced. You just set the intention. However, people have been programmed to believe that things like the void are too good to be true (SMFH).

SOOOOO here's the challenge:

STEP ONE is to do ANY kind of yoga, workout, or stretch before bed. You can do breathing sitting up or simply a meditation to calm your mind. Make sure to not use electronics before bed for at least an hour.

STEP TWO is to get into a comfortable position. It doesn't matter which position, just one that you know you can stay in for as long as necessary.

STEP THREE is to choose what you want to do in SATs. To induce the void, you choose to induce the void. You can say it to yourself or just relax and know what you want.

STEP FOUR is to begin to relax your body. You can do PMR where you tense then release each part of your body, then do breathing or anything until you have become completely relaxed.

STEP FIVE is to either visualize waking up with your desired face or whatever thing you want to get from the void and telling someone that you induced the void. Anything that indicates that you woke up in the void. OR you use the lullaby method where you pick one affirmation (I am in the void aware or I have induced pure consciousness). OR you can do both.

STEP SIX is to make sure you go to sleep with this affirmation or visualization in your mind. This is probably the most important part and what makes this method successful.

Please go watch "Neville Goddard Ladder lecture" in order to get how this works. BUT IT D O E S. Stop being so needy and do the challenge. It's literally not hard and there's no "failure". It's just a state.

Oh, and I made a playlist that I'll link down below for you to listen to throughout the day. It's not necessary but it helped me be happy and get rid of the "omg nothing wowks fow meeeeeee :(((" mentality. I will also link a good, trustworthy SATs subliminal that i used YEARS ago (like two years) and then didn't use again because I became obsessed with trying new methods.

If you have any questions, you can message me BUT I am enjoying my life rn and chilling so I won't respond immediately. Plus, everything you need to know is already on @b4ddprincess 's page and also my earlier posts address tons of things. Again, stop being needy.

[afriendofmara]

There will always be a fondness for 2000's christian rock and pop in my heart. Little me adored those beats, even the sad ones. That was all I had to grasp onto and I did, they mean so much to me. But what makes me still so fond even nowadays, I've never viewed them in a god way. Its always been in a Friend or Family way. 6 year old me would listen to Natalie Grant bang out the tunes and sat in front of the cd player dazzled. This is what its like to find love, to find friendship, to find companionship, I thought. I listened to the entirety of Portable Sounds by Tobymac and knew that this was about what loving your family means. Today I understand that these are sometimes about friends or lovers but always they are about god. I just can't come to see that. NEEDTOBREATHE's The Outsiders is genuinely one of the best music albums in my life and my brain to this day wraps it in friendship and hands it over

[boxfullaturtles]

I’m Bored and Anxious So I Slapped Together a List of Fan Fic Writer Asks

1. Share a song that makes you think of [fic title] 2. Do you read/reread your own fics? 3. What's your favorite fic that you've written? 4. How many WIPs do you have right now? 5. What's a fic idea you've had that you will never write? 6. Are there any fics from others you reread all the time? 7. How many ideas for fics do you have right now? 8. What project(s) are you currently working on? 9. Do you write every day? If you wrote today, share a sentence of what you’ve written! 10. Is there a fic that got a different response than you were expecting? 11. Do you have specific playlists for writing fics? 12. Do you have a playlist for your current WIP(s)? Share it! 13. How much planning do you do before writing? 14. If you could see one of your fics adapted into a visual medium, such as comic or film, which fan fic would you pick? 15. How do you come up with titles for your fics/chapters? 16. At what point in the process do you come up with titles? 17. What's something you've learned about while doing research for a fic? 18. What's one of your favorite lines you've written in a fic? 19. Give us a small teaser from one of your WIPs. 20. What's a favorite title for a fic you've written? 21. Have you ever deleted an entire scene after spending hours laboring over it? If so, why? 22. Do you know how your fic will end before you start writing? 23. How do you choose where to end a chapter (if you have multi-chapter works)? 24. Share a moodboard for (one of) your current WIP(s). 25. Have you ever upset yourself with your own writing? 26. Is there something you've written that you would never want your family to see? 27. Is there a fic you were nervous to post/share? Why? 28. Have you ever tagged a fic “Dead Dove: Do Not Eat”? 29. Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (If you don’t have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don’t plan on getting to.) 30. Ask anything!

[yoonia]

nefarious (m) | pjm

Summary | Welcome to Club La Rouge, where your sexual fantasies come to life.  Accepting his offer might cause inconveniences for both of you, but do you really have it in you to say no? 

⟶ Title | Nefarious; In Motion - a side story ⟶ Pairings | Jimin x female reader (with POV changes) ⟶ Genre | Sex Club!au, Gentlemen Club!au, Club host/escort! Jimin, Smut ⟶ Ratings & Warnings | +18 / M for Mature; scenes of nudity, male strippers, usage of alcohol (minor, no drunk sex), D/s dynamic, contains strong BDSM content!, explicit sexual scene, including: mentions of voyeurism, exhibitionism, mention of masturbation/mutual masturbation, brief depiction of deepthroating, praise/praise kink, pain kink, Dom!Jimin, sub!reader, pet names/endearment, sensory play, bondage/restraint, spanking, pussy slapping, punishments, clamps/nipple clamps, biting, sex toys, body worshipping, breast play, oral sex (female receiving), fingering (female receiving), clit play, edging, begging, crying, orgasm denial, orgasm control, forced orgasm, hair pulling, rough sex, manhandling, ass play/rimming, unprotected sex, multiple sex scenes, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, brief depiction of reader/OC entering a headspace, aftercare. ⟶ Story Note | While this story is connected directly to the original plot of In Motion, this story can be read as a standalone. For those who are reading In Motion, the scenes in this piece may take place in a similar timeline as the main story (after the epilogue). Thank you for @pars-ley and @lo1k-diamonds for helping with beta reading parts of this. Special thanks to @cafekitsune for the mdni divider. ⟶ Author’s Note | I’ve been planning this story for a while, ever since Jimin appeared at the final chapters of In Motion and then again in The Dark Room, but it took a whole year for me to finish this one. I initially wanted to publish this to celebrate my birthday and Jimin’s last October, but a lot of things happened since then and this story ended up being postponed for a long time. I hope you’ll enjoy reading this story, whether or not you have read the entire In Motion instalment. Additional warning: please remember to hydrate while reading!  ⟶ Word count | 39,246 words ⟶ Posted on: Jan 10th, 2025 by @yoonia

⟶ In Motion: the masterlist | Music playlist and visual concept | Read on AO3 ⟶ Main masterlist | Navigation | Mailbox | Feedback | Ko-fi

𝕮𝖑𝖚𝖇 𝕷𝖆 𝕽𝖔𝖚𝖌𝖊

Welcome to our establishment. Let us introduce our little treat for you to indulge in—

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐦

𝐑𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬

Your host and personal contact will notify you personally to confirm your appointment for your private session, according to the prearrangement made on the night of registration or during the session schedule’s booking. You must confirm your availability within one hour of the arranged schedule. If the attendee fails to confirm their availability on time, then the opportunity to join the session will be passed on to the next club member on the waiting list who fits the same preferences.

During the arrangement of your private session, please remember to confirm your preferences or individual requirements needed for your session with your host. The host will use your details to find the perfect partner among exclusive members of the club to pair you with during your session.

Both your identity and your potential partner’s will remain anonymous until the session begins, and you are required to maintain your anonymity throughout the entire session held within the property of Club La Rouge. 

Once you are escorted into the allocated room for your arranged session, you will have free rein to use the room however you deem appropriate for your session. The timer will be set starting from the moment the ambience lights within the room are turned on. Both attendees are allowed to utilise the provided tools and necessities presented inside the room. Any personal items taken from outside of the club will not be allowed inside the Play Room and will be confiscated immediately if discovered by the hosts. 

You may discuss your choice of safe words with your partner once you are in the room or before the session officially begins. Please remember to notify your selection of safe words and passwords to your host once you are set to begin. The hosts will only open the doors once the session officially ends or whenever the safe word is announced by an attendee. 

The hosts will have the authority to stop the session if the safety of either attendee is compromised. An alert button will be available in the room to be utilised by either attendee when they feel unsafe during the session and the safe word is unable to be used. Once the alert button is used, the host will cease the session and take over to secure the attendee in question.

If any violation of the rules above occurs within the session, the attendee in question will be escorted out of the premises and their name will be added to our blacklist.

Any other mutual arrangements that may occur after the arranged session will no longer be our concern.

—You—

Your chest feels constricted. 

Never once have you felt this kind of humiliation before. Let alone experiencing it in a place like this. 

Club La Rouge has been known as a prestigious club that takes good care of its members. Ever since you joined them a year ago, you have been experiencing first-hand just how well the club takes the matters of your needs and pleasure as their priority. Never once had they ever failed to help satiate your desire with their service. 

Until tonight. 

As a club that aspires to bring people’s most sinful wishes and dreams to reality, Club La Rouge has never left you feeling disappointed. This is the reason why you have been coming back here, relying on them to channel your hidden desires. To provide you with a chance and a safe space where you can freely explore them without having to reveal your secrets to the world. 

That was the reason why you had arranged for a special session tonight in your favourite venture—the Play Room. 

You needed an escape. A relief from your strenuous life, and being here, making use of the club’s benefits such as the Play Room as an avenue to express yourself in a fashion that you would never dare to do in real life, has been helping you to live out your fantasy in the best possible way one could imagine. So far, you have been quite lucky to be able to venture and live out your fantasy through the sessions that you have had in the club. 

So the moment your plans turn into a complete mess, you cannot help but wonder if you have finally run out of luck. Because there is no possible way that the first time the club makes a mistake like this, it just has to happen on the night you come for an arrangement which you have been anticipating the most. 

“I am terribly sorry. This is truly our fault.”  

You bite back any response waiting to escape your lips. Frustrated and annoyed would be an understatement. The female host’s apology and simple explanation do little to help when you are standing here with your hopes crumbling to pieces.  

The poor girl working on the concierge desk also looks too pitiful—so obvious that not even her lacy mask can hide it—that you have no idea what to say. Would it be fair for you to be angry at her about this? Would it be right to file a complaint or ask to see their manager?

Is the manager even available tonight? He should be. He is your host and sponsor, after all. 

You look around, hoping to see the familiar figure that has always been there ever since the first day you became a member of the club. The club doesn’t look as busy as usual—which isn’t surprising for a weeknight—and the female host seems to be the only one handling the registration tonight. It makes you doubt that he would be here tonight at all. 

In the end, the only thing you can do is exhale a deep, heavy sigh and close your eyes, forcing yourself to find some calmness rather than making a scene out of nothing. You just need a moment to wrap your mind around the situation that you just found yourself in. 

“Let me get this straight. What you’re saying is—” you keep your voice calm and steady as you try to understand the situation better, “Not only did the person you set me up with for tonight’s session cancel their RSVP at the last minute, the person who was supposed to be next in line and was said to also fit my criteria was also a no-show?” 

There is a bite in your voice that you cannot control. You still refuse to believe that your potential partner—who was personally chosen by the club—had completely bailed on you. Possibly because of hearing the details of your request. 

As much as you want to deny this awful situation from happening, putting the situation into words only makes it more real. Looking at the hostess’s fearful eyes that her delicate mask has failed to hide doesn’t take away the bitterness you feel inside. 

The female host opens her mouth, then shuts down before she says anything, while looking more nervous as the seconds tick by. You almost feel guilty for inciting this kind of reaction from her. Almost. But you are too angry to care, and if you are being honest, you are looking for a scapegoat. If those cowards aren’t here to be on the receiving end of your wrath, then the person who is now standing before you can take it on their behalf. 

“I’m afraid that is quite correct. Well—partially,” she slowly explains, while her voice grows smaller when she sees you raising your eyebrow. “As I previously mentioned, a part of this incident may have been our fault.” 

You shake your head. “Please explain to me so I can understand.” 

The hostess nods before she begins explaining the process that occurred after you phoned your host—her manager—this morning about opening a private session in the Play Room. Once you have given him your specifics, including your special request and requirements for your session tonight, it was your main host’s duty to relay the details, while the club’s system filtered through the club members’ list to find someone who would fit your criteria and would be available for the night. 

“We’ve contacted your first potential partner within the hour your request came in, who immediately RSVP’d his availability for tonight's session. But then he cancelled in the afternoon, claiming that he wasn’t able to join the session as he felt it was—” the hostess looks uncomfortable as she continues, “something that he wasn’t looking to get into for the time being.” 

You let out a scoff. “Ah, so the poor man got cold feet once he learned about the details I requested for the appointment?” 

Speaking it out loud only makes you want to laugh even harder. It’s not like you gave an outlandish request when you made your appointment. Many others have even more peculiar sexual fetishisms to play around with in the Play Room��like those involving fetishes by worshipping certain body parts or using inanimate objects to pleasure themselves with, such as food and other inanimate objects—so hearing such reasons to cancel an appointment seems laughable. 

“I still don’t see how that would be your fault.” 

The only thing that you could think of regarding the situation is that either the club had chosen the wrong club member as your partner, misreading his personal preferences as something that matched your own, or the man had lied about his details in his registration form so that the club had mistakenly thought he would be the perfect match for you. 

“What about the other one? The—replacement?” 

“Well, you see—” The hostess stops to clear her throat before explaining the situation further, “Once we received the cancellation from your original partner, our system immediately proceeded to find the next person in our list that would fit the criteria to be your potential partner in tonight’s session, and then pass on the invitation through his personal host who will then help us confirm his availability.” 

With a deep inhale of breath, the hostess continues, “The problem was, that once the host failed to contact the appointed member through a phone call, they had proceeded to contact him through email. The system was supposed to wait until the member sent in their RSVP or replied back to let us know that he would be available for the night, and only then would the host in charge pass on the information and have the club arrange the session with both of you as partners.” 

“Let me guess, that’s where everything went south?” 

The hostess gives you a remorseful smile. “Unfortunately, that is exactly what happened,” she explains gently. “Our system had mistakenly confirmed his attendance and RSVP’d on his behalf before we ever truly received any direct response from the club member regarding his availability for tonight’s session. The staff who handled the arrangement never thought to double-check with the system or the hosts who were responsible as both yours and the other member’s contacts before contacting you to inform you that we have found a partner for you.” 

You feel like ripping your hair out in frustration or pinching the bridge of your nose to calm yourself, except that you had spent hours fixing your hair that it would be such a waste to mess it with your own hands, while you also have a thick, lacy mask covering your face which you aren’t supposed to take off for the rest of the night. 

Feeling like there is no hope, you let a bitter laugh escape from your lips. “So I suppose I should just go home now?” 

— Jimin —

As your personal host and direct contact who is responsible for being the mediator between you and Club La Rouge, Jimin should have been there at the concierge desk to welcome you for your appointment. It was by chance that he had just stepped away from his counter to have a short break when his phone pinged with a notification, alerting him of your early arrival after your membership card was scanned at the front desk. 

Jimin had been the one to set up the appointment and prepared the Play Room for your session himself, so he should be the one welcoming you and then escorting you to the room himself. But he has his own reasons to step away and find some space before coming to face you. 

After handling your previous sessions over the year you have become a member, Jimin knew to expect something new added to your request when you called in to arrange a session in the Play Room. You have always been curious, after all. Always quite adventurous when it comes to channeling your sexual desires, in finding out new ways to express your sexuality while trying to find what works for you and what the club might be able to provide in your sexual explorations. 

But your request had been an unexpected one that caught him by surprise upon hearing it the first time. Jimin even had to confirm it with you repeatedly on the phone call you made this morning to make sure, nearly causing you to laugh at his reaction. 

Your requirements hadn’t been an extraordinary one. Not by the club’s standard, at least, as Jimin had witnessed and arranged many others that made him appreciate the club’s policy of upholding its member’s secrecy and discretion. Yet, your request was enough to bring out an old itch that is begging for a scratch.

That was why he felt the need to get away, to regain his composure before facing you. Before his thoughts—everything that he deemed forbidden to even think about as one of the club’s representatives to an esteemed member of the club—gets in the way of his duties. 

Not being there when you first arrived is one thing that he feels regretful of the most. Then he regrets it even more when he rushes back, just in time to find out about the predicament that you are met with at the concierge desk. 

Jimin hears enough and curses under his breath, realising what had happened and understanding where things might have gone wrong. He knows exactly who—or what—to blame. 

He, of all people, should have known better than to rely simply on the club’s automated system to handle these things. 

Back then, Jimin and the other hosts had done things manually; from matching the club members with the right partners for each scheduled appointment, arranging the private sessions and the exclusive events, to scouting potential members and finding the perfect benefit that would help them find pleasure so they would keep returning to the club to gain more.  

Over the past few years, however, the club has grown substantially. With more members joining, and new ventures and benefits to offer being added, the hosts have become so overwhelmed with overlapping duties. It then prompted the owners to introduce the new system to assist the hosts in handling the club’s business. 

So far, the automated system has been working well enough without causing trouble for the hosts. It has been making things easy when it comes to matching up club members as partners for closed and private sessions held in the club’s special rooms, and dealing with last-minute cancellations—just like the situation that you are currently in. Although it doesn’t take away the hosts’ responsibilities in making sure that things remain in order. 

That was what he was supposed to do with your appointment tonight; to double check on the booking process and follow up with both the system and the hosts involved to make sure that things will go on smoothly. He is your main host, after all, and it is his responsibility to keep you satisfied with the club’s service in tending to your needs. He shouldn’t have relied solely on the computers and the other hosts to handle your arrangement. 

“So I suppose I should just go home now?”

Your voice echoes through the hallway as Jimin begins approaching you. Hearing the bite in your voice, he feels a tight pinch in his chest, as he feels as if he has failed you. 

Jimin knows that he shouldn’t care this much for a member of the club, and yet he cannot stop himself. 

It would be a complete lie to say that he doesn’t have a soft spot for you. Jimin has no idea if what he feels is some kind of attraction, or simply amusement. Whatever it is, he cannot deny that he enjoys every moment he hosts your presence at the club. He even finds pleasure in fulfilling your various requests each time you call in for an appointment with the club, always guessing what would be the next thing you want to try or learn, and matching you with the right person among other club members to fulfil your needs. 

And that is why the idea of sending you home without giving you exactly what you needed tonight seems preposterous. 

Determined to fix everything for you, Jimin secures his mask and fixes his suit, getting himself in order as he joins you at the concierge desk. 

“Good evening, Miss ____,” he gently greets you with a smile, and he takes great pleasure in seeing your shoulders slumping in relief at the sound of his voice. Your gaze softens even before you turn to look at him, which makes his smile grow wider. 

There is always a tender look in your eyes whenever you see him. Oftentimes mixed with a tinge of amusement or absolute joy. Jimin knows that he shouldn’t read too much into it, but he would be lying if he ever said that he doesn’t enjoy seeing it coming from you. 

“Let me take it from here, Saki. Thank you for covering for me while I was gone. You’ve done well,” Jimin says to the female host who had taken over Jimin’s station in his absence. He feels guilty for placing her in such a predicament when it wasn’t even her responsibility to handle this kind of situation. The barely-concealed sigh of relief that Jimin sees from the poor girl drives that guilt sinking deeper in his chest. 

With a nod, Saki turns to apologise to you one last time before making her way to the back office. Jimin waits until the girl is out of sight before he speaks, 

“I’m sorry I missed you. I had to step out for a moment,” he finds himself explaining before he can stop it. “I just heard what happened to your dates. I apologise for such an unpleasant evening. As your host, I will personally take full responsibility for this mistake.” 

Jimin holds back a wince, even if he truly means it. He really does feel responsible for allowing this to happen, yet you seem to think differently when you immediately shake your head. “No, there is no need to go that far. Bad things like this can happen to anyone,” you kindly say to him, though Jimin isn’t quite sure if you are trying to appease him or convince yourself. 

Because the disappointment you feel is still clear in your voice, also in your eyes, and in the deep sigh coming out of your lips when you murmur under your breath, “Unfortunately, it was just my pure luck that this had to happen to me.” 

Clenching his hands, Jimin holds back from reaching out to you and musters a smile. “Once again, I would like to apologise on behalf of the club and the staff. Why don’t you take a seat in the waiting area for a moment?” he offers you while gesturing towards the small lounge nearby, “I’ll see if I can arrange something so your visit tonight won’t be such a waste.” 

You look sceptical for a moment, which Jimin can understand. Even with the advanced system, it would be impossible for Jimin to scout through the available male members of the club to find anyone who would be able to fill in as your partner tonight, much less to send a sudden invitation for a late-night private session. But, to his relief, you ask no more questions and agree to let him do his work. 

Jimin guides you himself to the small waiting lounge; a private space near his station which is often used for guests who are waiting for their turn to use the special rooms. Once you are settled, Jimin rushes back to his desk with your membership card in hand, hoping that he can somehow find a way to salvage the night for you. 

It’s for the sake of the club’s reputation, he tries to remind himself, as he keeps forcing him to remember that he needs to solve this for the club’s interest, not a personal favour. 

It doesn’t take more than five minutes for Jimin to find everything he needs. First, by confirming Saki’s statement about the other staff’s mistakes and how the automated matchmaking system had screwed everyone over. Second, to confirm his suspicions about not being able to fix it the way he wanted. 

But that doesn’t stop him from trying to make things right. 

He spends another five minutes on his computer to find the right solution before joining you in the waiting area. “As my assistant, Saki, explained, the club member that the system had listed as your substitute partner for the night never RSVP’d back to our invitation to join tonight’s private session that you requested. The member’s personal contact should have done her due diligence in making sure that he was available to attend before contacting the staff handling your reservation, and I should have followed up with the process before updating you,” he gently explains, “The fault is entirely ours. On behalf of the club, and for my own mistakes, I would like to apologise.” 

Once again, a look of defeat is written on your face, and Jimin’s heart plummets with more guilt. To his surprise, you still manage to put a smile on your face when you respond, “It’s fine. I guess things aren’t meant to be.” 

If Jimin felt doubtful about his insistence in helping you, that feeling fades the moment he catches the resigned sigh escaping your lips. 

Hearing this, and feeling the tightness in his chest, he realises that not only is he constantly drawn to you whenever you are near—when you are in the same room, same space, or simply present somewhere in the club’s property while he is working in the hour—he also has been feeling quite protective of you. 

Just like how he is adamant about helping you tonight, he has always been more attentive to your needs. Oftentimes, he would find himself getting reckless, involving himself in your deals and arrangements with the club in channelling your raw desire. 

Jimin has long realised how unhealthy this was becoming. When knowing the kinds of sexual exploits that you have been seeking through the club so far has only caused him to be on the edge each time you return for new arrangements, always making him wary about the risks you would be taking as you enter one of these sex rooms with these other guests that the club had chosen for you. 

Complete strangers hiding behind intricately designed masks and anonymity as they share a private moment with you behind these closed doors. 

Jimin hates to admit it, but aside from the sinking feeling of guilt, he also feels somewhat relieved that your private session was unsuccessful tonight. 

If only your appointed partner had shown up, Jimin would have been the one sending you off to your room by now, and then left wondering if your partner would be doing a good job in fulfilling your needs, instead of sitting here with you, enjoying this little chat while admiring your smile—albeit not as radiant and alluring as it usually does. 

“Still, it doesn’t mean that your night needs to end now,” he says, which draws another sceptical look from you. 

Still, he manages to also draw a small, warmer smile showing on your face when you question him, “Oh, really? How so?” 

Jimin returns your smile as he leans closer, holding your membership card between his fingers. “Because I’ve made sure that you’ll have a way to enjoy the rest of the evening instead of returning home.” 

His smile grows wider when your curiosity grows, and it shows perfectly from the way your eyes grow wide from under your mask. Before you can question him further, Jimin continues to explain, “To make up for our error, I’ve upgraded your membership status and programmed a few special offers on your card, which you are eligible to claim tonight if you wish to enjoy them.”

“An upgrade?” you ask, “and what kind of special offers are you talking about?”

Jimin throws you a smug smile. “I prefer to call it a peace offering, since it would be quite a disadvantage if tonight’s misfortune changes the way you perceive the club.” 

When your smile returns, so does the light in your eyes. “I’m listening.” 

“Instead of simply cancelling your appointment for tonight’s session, I switched the specifics of your appointment to have it listed as an open session which you can claim anytime you want. There will be no extra charge if you decide to have it as an extra from your monthly quota of free sessions,” Jimin explains, “The upgrade has also given you new privileges that only our exclusive members are eligible to claim.”  

You make a humming sound as if you are considering your options. But Jimin can tell that he is slowly getting you swayed. “You might want to remind me of these, um—” You come to a brief pause, then start shaking your head as if trying to not get ahead of yourself or too excited over this sudden development, “Remind me again about these privileges that I am now entitled with.” 

Jimin bites back a smile as he watches you crossing your arms over your chest, challenging him while trying your best to rein in your enthusiasm. 

“I am sure that you’ve read through the club’s rulebook that we sent you after you first joined us and learned about the club’s benefits—from our special rooms, events, and other services that the club offers,” Jimin says, to which you nod. “Your current—or should we say, your previous membership status, only allows a limited quota for accessing our sex rooms each month. With this new upgrade, not only will you be given the same privileges as our exclusive members, such as access to more sex rooms, and chances to book more appointments each month, but you will also receive invitations to our special events.” 

Your eyes grow wide, and this time, Jimin is the one who has to force himself to hide his excitement. As your host, Jimin has suspected that you may have been regretting your choice to join as a regular member of the club instead of upgrading it. 

With your current membership status, you have only been able to book two sessions and only one type of sex room to access each month, without being able to switch between rooms to be able to fully experience them—just like how you have only been able to book the Play Room for the past few months, and before that, the Viewing Room. As for the club’s special events, unless there was a special event being held in the club that is open for public guests, you wouldn't be receiving any invitation to join the festivities. 

Now, all of that’s going to change. The upgrade that Jimin has gifted you will allow you to experience all the benefits that the club offers its members—from getting the opportunity to try out more rooms, book more sessions, and join more parties.

There is no doubt in Jimin’s mind that you would have been able to appreciate these benefits to your heart’s content, and for some reason, the thought of being able to give you such luxury pleases him dearly. 

“I will be sending you the new rulebook that will explain the details about these privileges more thoroughly once the upgrade is officially applied to your membership account. In arranging future sessions, the basic procedure remains the same. I am still your personal contact with the club, so you can call or email me anytime you are interested in booking a room or a session, or if you want to venture out to the club’s other services which you want to try. Just give me all the details, your request for a partner to match you with, and the time you wish to come, and I’ll arrange everything.” 

You open your mouth to speak, but he beats you to it by saying, “The next time you call for an appointment, I will personally handle everything myself to make sure that things are in order.” 

Your gaze softens, and so does your smile. But there is something in your eyes that warms Jimin in the chest. The look of trust. It makes him happy knowing that he has earned it, especially coming from you. 

“Exclusive privileges, hmmm?” you ask him with a playful scoff, though there is a glint in your eyes that seems more honest. 

Excitement. With the familiar tinge of lust. 

Jimin can only guess what goes on inside that pretty little head of yours at the promise of trying more new things under the club’s space. “Sounds tempting. I look forward to learning more about them.” 

Exhaling a sigh of relief, Jimin continues, “For the rest of the evening, you are free to use the Entertainment Room to wind down. As a special treat, I added an extra drink over the two drinks a night limit.” Jimin leans closer. “Just for you,” he adds with a wink, and takes pleasure in the way your eyes are lowered when a shy smile appears on your face. 

“In exchange for your cancelled appointment, I’ve given you free access to join any of the Viewing Rooms tonight, since I know that you still favour those rooms. But you can also switch to any other sex room to your liking if you are interested in trying your new privileges right away,” he says, grinning as he sees you sitting up straight. “Just let me know which new benefit you would like to engage with before you end the night, and I’ll have everything set for you. As long as they are available for an impromptu visit.” 

Jimin holds back the chuckle rising in his chest as he sees you twitching in your seat. He wishes so badly to see what is going through your head right now. He can imagine you venturing through the rooms tonight out of curiosity, and he surprises himself when he feels a semblance of possessiveness when he thinks about you enjoying your night on your own, while knowing what your new privileges can offer. 

Swallowing his emotions, Jimin continues, focusing on the present instead of wondering about the things that have yet to happen.  

“Why don’t you take your time? Have some drinks while you process this and decide how you’re going to enjoy the rest of your night. I’m sure the exotic dancers performing in the Entertainment Room tonight will be quite helpful in getting your mind away from all the stress,” he offers you when he notices you thinking deeply about your options. It was clear to Jimin that you had felt dejected enough to even consider going home, forget everything, even perhaps to leave the club altogether out of this one bad experience. And that is the last thing that Jimin wants right now. 

At the mention of exotic dancers, your eyes light up, coaxing Jimin to lean in and tease you, “Although, I must say, that I am fairly sure those dancers might not be as entertaining as I would have been.”  

To his pleasure, his comment manages to draw not only a genuine smile from you, but also makes you laugh for the first time tonight. 

Your laugh is full of surprise and it does something crazy to Jimin. A flush of warmth runs down his body. This rarely happens, which only surprises him more. Never once has he ever been affected by someone this much. To have it coming from a client, a guest of the club that he is responsible for as a host, is even more unexpected. 

Yet he welcomes the feeling. Especially when he gets to see your smile even more. 

“I’m sure you’re right about that,” you softly tease him with a soft chuckle slipping out of your lips. 

“Now that I’ve explained how much this card is now worth with the upgrade, it will be best that you hold on to it,” Jimin says as he returns your membership card. His eyes remain on your dainty fingers as you retrieve the card from his hand. The greedy part of him wishes that he could stay in this moment a bit longer, or to find some reason to touch your skin. 

Yet he brushes away his thoughts before they can go any further. 

“Thank you. I was so sure that this night would be such a waste. This past week has been—a lot. And today at work had been the worst, which was the reason why I called you the first chance I got to arrange a session so I could destress.” You exhale a heavy sigh, the sound bringing back the tightness in his chest. Yet he can tell that the heaviness of your distress is no longer present, much to Jimin’s relief. 

Your eyes fall on the card in your hand and a sound of disbelief comes out of your lips. “I can’t believe you went above and beyond just to make up for all of this.” 

Jimin’s chest seems to expand with pride at your words. “It’s my duty as your host to make sure that you are satisfied with the club’s services.” You lift your gaze to meet his when he gently adds, “I meant it when I said it was my responsibility to make up for your failed night. But most of all, I’m also doing this personally for my own pleasure. Anything to please you.”  

— You —

 

Words fail you as your fingers brush against Jimin’s the moment you reach out to retrieve the membership card back from him. 

You have always found it so odd the way your heart would always flutter each time you were close to him. You have always felt at ease whenever he was around—just like that eventful evening just last year when you came to the club and met him for the first time, his smooth talking giving you the artful reassurance that you needed to be confident enough to apply for membership even before you finished your first drink.

Tonight, specifically, Jimin has managed to calm you down without having to do much. Just his voice alone was already enough to give your mind some semblance of solace after having to deal with the drama regarding your unsuccessful appointment. And then he goes to such lengths to make up for the mishap that didn’t seem to be entirely his fault. 

It shouldn’t make you feel things, being treated with this much care. It shouldn’t bring up the flutters threatening to grow stronger in your chest. 

How pathetic does it make you to feel something like this just because someone is being nice to you? Have you been so deprived of such kindness and affection that this simple gesture—one that a host of the club does to appease you—makes you feel spoiled and, perhaps, appreciated?  

After the day you had, however, where you felt as if the entire world was closing in on you, it shouldn’t be a surprise for you to feel this way. If only you hadn’t felt so tired and frustrated, you might even have tears in your eyes. They would be tears of gratitude and relief. Which no doubt would only make Jimin worry even more. 

“I think I might need that drink, after all,” you murmur with a chuckle, mostly to yourself than to Jimin.  

To his credit, Jimin says nothing about how desolated your voice comes out. He simply takes your hand and helps you rise from your seat, once again triggering that flutter in your chest with his warm touch. 

“I’ll have Saki escort you to the Entertainment Room. I hope spending some time there might help you feel a bit better, even if you decide to call it a night after a few drinks. But I’ll be here to guide you if you ever decide to venture out and indulge in your new benefits as a new exclusive member,” he says with a grin that is infectious that you cannot help but smile along with him. 

Your moment together ends too soon as you arrive back at the concierge desk, where his assistant, Saki, is waiting. You shouldn’t feel so dejected for having your time with him cut short, but it’s hard to ignore it. Being with Jimin feels so calming. His eyes are warm, even when they are partly hidden under his golden lace mask, and his smile—which often seems cunning—makes you feel safe when you are with him. 

Shaking your head, you remind yourself that the only reason why Jimin is so kind to you is because of his duty. This is his job. As a host, it would be his responsibility to keep his guests—his customers—happy, and that includes you. 

“Thank you, Jimin.” 

He nods. “I hope you’ll have a better evening.” 

“Your drink.” 

A glass of red liquid—Manhattan, dry—manifests right in front of your eyes, drawing your attention away from the lewd scenes that are being displayed in the room. The glass lands with a soft thud on your table. Glancing up, you see the staff who brought it over to you; a tall man with broad shoulders, wearing nothing but a tight vest which shows his perfectly toned muscles, his skin bare, with no shirt beneath. His mask is made up of semi-transparent black lace which mostly covers his eyes and the bridge of his nose, though not enough to cover the glint in his gaze as he lingers by you for a moment longer than necessary. 

“Can I provide you with anything else?” 

From his smile, you can tell that behind the alluring mask, he must be an attractive man—just like all the other staff, escorts, and hosts working in the club. 

From his gestures and the way he speaks, it’s clear that he is openly flirting with you. It is quite flattering, if only you don’t consider the fact that this is a part of his job as a waiter and escort; to tend to the guests and wait on their table, oftentimes keeping them company when they need one while they are in the room. 

He doesn’t have to say out loud that he is subtly offering you that said company. You can see it in his pretty smile, yet it doesn’t seem to pull at your heart enough to invite him to join you. Not even for a single drink. 

So you put a smile on your face to return his inviting grin and politely wave him off. “Thank you. This is all I need for now,” you coyly say, before deciding it wouldn’t hurt to play along a little just to have fun, “but you can ask me again when I order my second drink.” 

The masked staff winks at you before he leaves, promising to return when you are ready for your second order. 

Biting your smile, you watch as the masked escort walks away, weaving through the lines of loveseats with his tray in hand as he makes his way back to the bar. Left alone, you take a slow sip from your drink, allowing it to help cool you down and wash away any bitterness that still lingers with the unexpected turn of your planned evening. 

Closing your eyes briefly, you savour the buzz from your drink as it rushes through your body. The soft and sultry tune of the music playing in the room helps set the mood. Not only to help all guests relax and enjoy the moment, but also to draw out any wanton desire that is still lying dormant right before the guests begin to venture deeper into the club to enjoy the special treats provided in the other rooms.

Your eyes trail towards the nearest glass box where a male dancer is swaying with the beat. Aside from the pair of high leather boots he is wearing on his feet and the black leather mask covering half of his face, the dancer simply has tight black briefs covering his crotch. Pressed sinfully into his skin, the fabric looks like a smooth leather. It leaves little to almost nothing to everyone’s imagination as the fabric barely covers much of his skin.

And it hangs low on his hips.  

Extremely low. 

Low enough that you can see the triangular line leading down towards his evident bulge. 

As the dancer moves, the chiselled muscles on his chest and limbs seem to ripple with every movement he makes. Each line of muscles keeps getting highlighted under the spotlight illuminating his private box stage as he rolls his body to the music, his skin glistening with sweat and what appears to be a thin layer of oil.

Hungry eyes are locked on him. You can tell that many of his audience are hoping that he would end his show by tearing those tight briefs off as manicured fingernails keep reaching up to try and have a touch. 

A wanton fantasy that may never happen. 

Not in this club, and not in the room which is open to the public and set simply as a place of transit for the guests. 

Club La Rouge has always had its strict rules, binding all the staff and guests alike to make sure that things remain in order while keeping everyone safe and satisfied under its roof. 

Specifically for the Entertainment Room, there are a few rules that everyone must follow; no complete nudity, not between the escorts and the guests who are present, not even for the exotic dancers on the stage; the well-known two drinks limit for the guests, placed to make sure that everyone who is involved in the sex rooms remain sober; no physical contact; and no fraternising, as escorts and dancers are off-limits for the guests to invite into the rooms, although they are allowed to keep the guests’ company while they are in this room, simply to talk and and flirt and drink with them until their time is up; and many other rules which have been placed to maintain both the anonymity and safety of everyone involved in the club’s business, while keeping its reputation intact. 

There is a reason why these guests around you—the attendees, as the club would call them—hide their faces behind carefully designed masks. A lot of these guests are important and well-known people out in the real world; businessmen, politicians, celebrities. Anyone who wanted to find an escape, a place to channel their darkest desires, to seek pure pleasure without the risk of people judging or outing them in public. 

They all pay good money to have a good time, to find pleasure, something that the club has to offer. In return, the club simply asks everyone to follow their rules to keep everything in order. 

Yet, even with the rules and limitations in place, this room still serves its purpose of entertaining its guests. The scantily clad escorts and passing servers are the perfect eye candy for the guests, and they are both friendly and flirty, providing some level of comfort for the guests so they can relax and enjoy their time. 

And then there are the performers, the exotic dancers filling the stage and the small boxes that have been set between the seats. All of them dancing and swaying to the music seductively, their movements so mesmerising that most guests find it hard to look away. 

Just like how your eyes continue to find their way to the same dancer that you have been admiring, his actions draw your attention back to him no matter how hard you try to look away. 

The male dancer brings his arms up, crossing them behind his head as he begins gyrating his hips forward. His eyes are locked down, aimed towards the female guest sitting right in front of the box; an older woman who is dressed elegantly, yet daring, with her wrap dress coloured in dark purple, a similar colour to her mask, the cleavage sinking deeply at the front to show a generous view of her ample bosoms. Her auburn hair is styled up in a messy bun, with a pair of golden hair clips pinned on the side of her head to keep the strands in place. 

You cannot see her face from this angle, yet you can see her painted nails trailing up and down the flute glass of champagne that she has been nursing since she sat there, showing you that she is indeed enjoying the show while having her mind wandering to another place where she could be free with her own raw desire, possibly with said male dancer as the other character in her fantasy. 

The dancer comes down to one knee and continues rocking his hips. The female guest leans back in her seat, making it seem as if she is receiving a personal lap dance from the dancer, and you wonder if this is a part of her fantasy that he is giving her. 

A fantasy. That is all that these entertainers are offering for the guests sitting in the Entertainment Room. Anything that may entice any guests’ sexual desire without actually engaging with them directly. 

But there are still other ways for the guests to indulge in that fantasy, and for these escorts and performers to indulge in sexual pleasure without breaking the rules. You look around, biting your lips when you consider that sometime tonight, one of these escorts and dancers will be performing something else for the guests. 

In the Viewing Room, a different kind of entertainment is presented for the guests, drawing those who are into specific types of kink, including some of the most perverse kinds of sexual pleasure; exhibitionism, voyeurism, and similar others. 

Within those rooms, a similar setting to what you have now can be found, except on a smaller scale. Sets of loveseats and high-back chairs set in lines around small, solo stages or in front of a massive glass wall separating the room from another, except that instead of stripper poles and stage lights, you will find a whole different setup to support the performances; from small beds and three-seated leather sofas to the distinct setup, like bondage benches and St. Andrews cross standing at the center stage. Everything that is needed for the masked escorts, both males and females, to engage in their sexual exploitation in front of a public audience. 

Oftentimes, club members would be the ones to take the center stage. Either with their own partners or in groups, or even acting solo, allowing other members to watch as they indulge in carnal pleasure. 

Feeling warm from your own thoughts about the indecent scenes that you have seen in the Viewing Room before, you lift your gaze back to the nearest stage, where a new male dancer has taken the center spot. 

Wearing a thin, see-through white shirt and a pair of tight, holed-up jeans, he basically leaves only little left to your imagination. His mask, a perfect replication of a pair of wings of a dove, is made out of white lace fabric with silver threads as its linings. The mask glimmers as the dancer begins rocking his hips, allowing you to see the toned lines of his muscles rippling under his shirt before he begins to slowly peel the thin piece away to show you more. 

As you continue watching the dancer perform with his captivating moves, your mind wanders to another figure whose movements are also just as graceful, but with less rough edges on him. The figure who holds an aura which exudes sin and temptation as he moves and speaks, with that smile of his which keeps drawing you in. 

Finding yourself comparing the dancer with your mysterious host and escort draws out a scoff from your lips. 

How would you know whether or not Jimin has any rough edges on him at all, when he has always presented himself in a prim and orderly fashion; with his sparkling mask hiding half of his face and his firm body under his fashionable suits? 

Thinking about Jimin takes you back to the brief moment you had with him at the guest lounge earlier, and you feel the urge to knock back your drink when your disappointment returns tenfold. You have no idea why you are so invested in this club and feeling so deeply about your session tonight. Having your hopes up only to be let down makes you feel bad, but it shouldn’t be this bad.

Is it because you had wanted—no, needed—an escape from your life so badly, hoping that a night of pleasure, a chance to shed your skin for a short while, would have helped you deal with the problems waiting for you at home? Have you needed to forget about the real world that badly to seek a chance to live inside your fantasy? 

Yes, you wonder with a sigh, as the weight of your real life outside of this club—work, the thriving, yet struggling business that you are currently running, your home life, the absence of a real relationship, the business deal that had fallen through just this morning—lays heavy on your shoulder. 

Yes, I do need that escape. 

Ever since the moment you stepped foot in the club for the first time, your entire world has been undeniably and irrevocably elevated to a new height. You’ve found pleasure like you’ve never felt before from the very first experience they gave you, the perfect escape from real life, and never once have you turned your back on them. Never once had they ever given you the reason to. 

Must tonight’s misfortune become the sign that your time with the club is up? 

Feeling the dreadful feeling from today’s stress coming back, added to the possibility that you might be losing your safe place tonight, you take another drink and lift your gaze, meeting the dancer’s eyes as he looks across the floor to see you. 

Sitting back and forcing yourself to relax, you convince yourself to simply enjoy this moment. To enjoy the performance that is being given to you while trying your best not to think of your troubles, and at the same time, stop yourself from imagining your lovely host—whose smile and alluring voice have always filled your thoughts—as the one dancing in front of you. 

— Jimin —

Jimin has no idea what he is doing or why he is here. 

It feels like only moments ago that he watched you go to the Entertainment Room—the Lounge, as everyone at the club would usually call it—and then he is suddenly here, standing in the dark corner, watching you. 

He cannot understand why he felt the urge to come here. The need to see you again was pulling at him that he was drawn here to find you. 

Like a moth to a flame. 

Shaking his head, Jimin lets out a bitter chuckle. This is ridiculous. If this had been the weekend, when the club is usually the busiest, he wouldn’t have been here. He wouldn’t have time to, nor the chance to be distracted by the thought of you, wondering if you are feeling better, or if you are going to meet anyone in the Entertainment Room who might invite you to join them for more.

The Viewing Room is open for guests tonight. The Play Room that you have booked for the night is still vacant, as he couldn’t alter the reservation and pass it on to another guest unless they are seeking the same specific theme. Which only makes him grow more concerned after sending you off with a free ticket to use either of these rooms tonight. 

Jimin may have informed you of the main rules within the club, yet he isn’t sure if you are aware of the special rule that applies only to the exclusive members and VIP guests of the club that most aren’t well-informed yet unless they have the same privileges. 

The same privileges that you now have, once Jimin has officially updated your status in the club. 

The rule which states that while the guests are forbidden to engage intimately with or to invite the escorts to their private sessions in the sex rooms, they are, however, allowed to invite another guest for an impromptu session set in the rooms, so long as the arrangement made between them is mutual and the hosts are made aware of it beforehand. 

It might have been the thought of you receiving open invitations from these other guests which had drawn Jimin away from his station. He knew it was a possibility. If someone like him could be completely smitten and drawn to you, there is no doubt that others would feel the same once they notice you. 

Alone. 

Unattended. 

Available. 

Jimin’s attention is drawn back to you when he sees you raising your hand, and ordering your second drink. Within moments, one of the male escorts tending the room appears with your drink in his tray. He leans close over the table as he places your drink, and then lingers for a moment too long. His demeanour and the way he leans a bit too close, too friendly, combined with the way you smile back at him as you lean forward to meet him, lets Jimin know that this male escort has been the one taking care of you and keeping you company since you got here. 

Jimin’s hands are clenched to fists at his sides. It remains that way while you are chatting with the escort, whose presence is making you oblivious to your surroundings and all the attention that you are getting from the other guests. Only when the male escort finally walks away, returning to his station, Jimin can finally breathe a sigh of relief. 

Instead of approaching you, Jimin remains in the shadows. Still out of sight. It allows him to look at you, a chance to get a full view of what he rarely gets to see whenever he’s in your presence. 

Sitting under the dim golden light falling from above, your mask glimmers when you move. The masquerade mask, gifted by the club when you first joined as a member and then amplified further with your personal touch, looks like petals of roses covering a part of your face. Made of lace fabric in the colour of red cherry, the mask matches perfectly well with the colour of your drink. Even the colour of your lipstick and dress both match the tone, something that Jimin had marvelled at the moment he saw you for the first time earlier tonight. 

The gold and black embroideries framing your mask make your eyes pop, and it shouldn’t please Jimin how well they match the colour of the mask that he is wearing tonight. 

As he watches you raise your glass to your lips, Jimin finds himself moving. As if a spell has been put on him, and his body is moving on its own, drawn towards the magic that has bewitched him completely. 

You have yet to notice him approaching, as your eyes drift towards the nearest box stage, where a new male dancer had just taken the spot to begin his dance. 

Once again, Jimin clenches his fists as he looks on, wishing that the glimmer in your eyes was directed to him instead. Yet he quickly calms himself just as he comes to your table, keeping his voice and expression steady, as well as the mask helping him hide his emotion, as he gently says, “Enjoying your evening so far?” 

Jimin’s voice takes your attention away from the male dancer who is now becoming the main focus of the entire room.

Startled, you sit up straight and turn to look at him. The haze in your eyes clears for a moment, only for your gaze to soften at the sight of him. While Jimin still cannot understand what he was feeling before, he takes pleasure in seeing how your gaze always changes just for him. 

“Well, I can’t say that I’m not enjoying myself,” you answer him with a coy smile. It appears as if you are already feeling the buzz, both from your drink and the ambience in the room, clearly seeming more relaxed compared to before. “I have free drinks, a wonderful view of gorgeous men dancing to the music, and friendly escorts coming to keep me company.”  

Your words draw a smile to Jimin’s face, which grows even wider when you add, “And now I have my handsome host coming to say hi.” 

Chuckling softly, Jimin nods and says, “Hi.” 

You softly laugh and take a drink. It draws Jimin to move closer. “Mind if I join you, then?” 

You lower your eyelids. A gesture so subtle and sweet, yet enough to draw a strong reaction out of him. The perfect submission. You shake your head and shift on your seat, making space for him. 

“Do you think I’ll mind having some time with you, Jimin?” you ask him with your eyes fluttering as you tap your palm on the loveseat, gesturing to him to sit right beside you instead of taking the other chair across the table. “Come sit here and keep me company.” 

Tilting his head, a myriad of emotions washes over him. He knows that he shouldn’t do this. He shouldn’t be here at all, least of all to join you, when every part of him keeps reacting to everything that you do. But his body has its own mind, and your gaze is pulling him closer before he can stop himself. 

Tugging at the lapels on his suit jacket, Jimin settles right next to you. Breathing in, he enjoys the sweet scent of your perfume and the warmth of your presence while you take another sip of your drink. 

“Aren’t you busy? Is it all right for you to join me here instead of watching over the concierge desk? Won’t they be needing you there?” You begin giving him a barrage of questions before returning your drink to the table. Jimin merely listens with a smile, as you curiously ask, “Or did you perhaps come here to check on me? To make sure that I’m having a good time?” 

Why am I here? Jimin wonders, once again questioning his own intentions. 

His concern over you had been making it hard for him to focus on working. No matter how much he tries to rationalise it, listing all the possible reasons why he is in this room with you, Jimin still has no answers. Other than to see you. 

However, he loses any chance to answer your question or to explain himself when a bare-chested server wearing a bowtie around his neck, a silver mask covering half of his face, and a pair of extremely tight leather pants, comes in to take his drink order. 

Jimin considers ordering something strong. A glass of whiskey, perhaps, if only for the sake of giving him liquid courage to speak his mind openly to you. But he quickly decides against it and orders a glass of iced water instead. 

“I’m guessing there’s a rule against drinking on the job?” you tease him, once the server walks away, your gaze lingers for a second longer on his toned bottom than Jimin would like before you turn to him again. 

“Something like that,” Jimin says with a tight smile. “I’m still on the hour, and I’d prefer to enjoy this chat with a sound mind.”

“I like the sound of that. Then I guess I’ll be drinking for both of us,” you say as you take a hefty drink of your liquor, nearly finishing it off. “You don’t do this often, do you?” you ask him while looking around, before noticing Jimin’s raised eyebrows and explaining what you meant, “I’m talking about you sitting with a client or a guest while strippers and half-naked servers are entertaining them.” 

Chuckling softly, Jimin shakes his head. “Actually, as one of the main hosts and the club’s recruiters, I do this quite often. Usually, I’d sit in the Entertainment Room or the open stage areas where the strippers perform, scouting over new guests who aren’t yet members to see if I can find those who interest me enough to offer them a special membership offer for them to join the club.” 

Your eyes grow wide, surprised and intrigued at the same time upon hearing this. Jimin can’t blame you for feeling this way. Even if he has been your host and personal contact to the club since you first applied, this hadn’t been your experience which had led you to meet him. 

Unlike the other members who came in through Jimin’s expert scouting and special invitation passed on through their sponsors, you had first come to the club at your own conviction. 

He still remembers that day as if it was yesterday. 

You had come during the rare occasion in which the club opened the Entertainment Room for public audience, welcoming guests who were non-members by applying an entrance fee for those who came without sponsors. It was you who came to approach him first, knowing who he was to the club and what his role was as he blended with the guests. 

Through the conversation he shared with you, he had learned that you came that night after finding out about the club from the words spread through the grapevine. You came out of curiosity at first, while also having the intention to apply to be a regular club member so you could try out the club’s various endeavours. You claimed that you wished to learn more about your sexual taste and preferences, while relying on the club’s pledge of keeping the members’ privacy and safety while they are under its wings. 

Jimin vaguely recalls how your work would often get in the way of you in having a relationship and from seeing people, to going on dates and finding your own partner to try new things. Hence, the club became such an enticing option which you couldn’t refuse. 

“No wonder no one seems to be questioning why you’re here,” you simply comment, just as a server passes by your table with a subtle nod towards Jimin.  

Jimin takes a drink to cool off, realising that this is something that he needs as he notices you sliding closer to him. 

“I guess you do take your job seriously,” you tease, sounding more relaxed after the drink you are having starts settling in. He looks over to see you watching him closely, your chin resting on your hand as you peruse him with your gaze. “Since you’re here, I’ve been thinking…” 

Placing his glass down, Jimin sits back in the seat, willing himself to relax with you. “What do you have in mind?” he asks, crossing his legs as he listens. Jimin bites down his smile when you give him a sheepish smile. But he would have never expected to hear what you are going to say to him next. 

“I feel like it will be a waste if I just leave here after finishing my drink.” You let out a sigh. “So maybe I’ll take your offer and try out one of the sex rooms tonight. What do you think?” 

You turn to Jimin with a small smile. “Is the Viewing Room with the open stage available tonight? It’s okay to go solo to watch, isn’t it? Maybe I can have fun there and enjoy myself.” 

Jimin swallows down the groan threatening to come out of him at the thought of you entering the sex rooms, much less the Viewing Room. Watching a live porn performance has been one of the fetishes and quirks that the club has to offer. One that he knows well enough to be your favourite before the Play Room. 

By choosing the one with the open stage, you will be sitting right in front of the stage, with either the attendees or escorts performing their carnal act within arm’s length and no barrier getting in the way. Except that going in solo would mean an open invitation to anyone who is enjoying the room to watch without a partner. 

“I mean, I would have loved to try the Dark Room, but after failing to find a partner meant for my original schedule, I can’t see myself getting a random partner on such short notice for—” 

Gritting his teeth, Jimin holds back from showing his displeasure as you continue rambling about your desire to try out the other sex rooms. With other people. He knows that it would be wrong of him to object to your intentions when he was the one who first made the offer for you to find a different way to enjoy the rest of your night. 

Yet he certainly isn’t prepared to hear himself sharing what has truly been going through his mind out loud. 

— You —

Thinking about what you might find in the Viewing Room tonight already makes you grow hot and excited. 

Out of all the sex rooms that you can find in Club La Rouge, the Viewing Room was the start of it all. The start of your journey with the sex club. 

Applying for a membership at La Rouge last year had immediately earned you a free entrance to The Viewing Room and a free extra drink in The Entertainment Room on the same night. Out of curiosity, you accepted the offer right away to feel the experience firsthand. 

Resting back in your loveseat, you remember resting on an exact replica of this seat inside the sex room, getting comfortable as you enjoyed the show. Just the way they have it here, there was a single stage positioned perfectly at the center of the room, merely an arm’s length away from where you were sitting. 

When you first entered, the stage was already occupied. You watched in awe as a masked woman sitting on the center of the stage spread her legs open, while a masked man knelt down before her, with his face buried between her legs and his mouth devouring her bare cunt. As the woman rocked her hips in the height of pleasure, you found yourself moving yours, brushing your covered center against the cushioned seat beneath you to find your own release. 

You remember meeting the woman’s gaze when her eyes shot open in her release, and then again when the man raised to his feet, twisting his partner onto her knees with ease before he began taking her from behind, pounding into her shamelessly while masked strangers continued to watch them giving in and indulging their carnal desire on stage. 

It felt exhilarating. 

Freeing. 

And it felt like the perfect escape from your mundane life, allowing you to recognise a part of you which had been lying dormant inside and awaiting release. The part of you which has always had a strong passion and desire for pleasure, and a deep curiosity to venture deeper into your fantasies and bring them into reality.  

That had been the night when you truly found the club to be the perfect place for you. A place where you could seek out pure pleasure, to learn and understand more about your needs and desires freely without any judgement from the people around you. 

And you have been coming back to this place ever since. Always back to try out new things, new ventures, new sex rooms, and Jimin knows this fact so well as he talks about your intention of visiting the Viewing Room before making your way home. 

“The Viewing Room you mentioned is available tonight. I’m quite certain that there are already a couple of guests making use of the stage right now, and anyone interested in watching them can enter anytime. But—” 

Jimin pauses. Seconds drag on. It would be expected for you to feel uneasy about why he seems so unsure to talk more about this. But it’s hard to feel it when his gaze seems to spark brighter when he looks at you. 

With a smile on his face, Jimin leans in to say with a low, gentle voice, “What if I tell you that I have something better in mind?” 

His cryptic words make you curious. “I’m listening.” 

His smile remains as his gaze holds steady, “I would like to make you an offer.”

The moment you get to see Jimin up close, your previous thoughts are proven right. He does look way more attractive in your eyes compared to the dancer who tried his best to keep your attention on him. Even with a full suit on, Jimin looks more appealing. His face, while hidden under his beautifully crafted mask, appears delicate and beautiful beneath. Not even the mask and the dim lighting filling the room can hide his features, or dim the sparks you feel from looking into his eyes. 

And then there is the way he carries himself, which has always been able to make you feel flustered whenever you are near each other. The way he glides and sways as if he is dancing to a tune that only he can listen to, and how you would take in every single movement he makes—from the tilt of his head, the small twitch at the corner of his lips before his smile grows, to the delicate way he moves his fingers. 

You have never truly realised how much he affects you. 

Until now. 

When the confidence that he oozes from within makes you feel like you want to surrender your desire in his hands, knowing that he might be the only one in the world who may understand what you need. 

“Another offer?” you ask, smiling at the sweet man before you, while hiding the fact that you are feeling an odd flutter in your chest with the way he is leaning closer to you. He might only want to make sure that you can hear him over the sultry music playing in the room, while keeping his words—his offer—from everyone else around you to hear. Something for your ears only.

“After giving me an additional monthly private session, extra free drinks and a free show.” You raise your glass and wave your hand at the main stage, where a few male dancers are now performing for all the club members who are present, their bare chests glimmering under the golden glow lights. “As well as many other privileges a girl like me could ever deserve. Yet you still have more to give?” 

Your smile grows when your gazes meet again. “I never realised the club takes good care of their members this well.”

Jimin gives you a sweet smile. “As I said before, I feel responsible for tonight’s misfortune. I feel like I am partly to blame for matching you with the wrong partners for your private session tonight. If only I had done my job better, perhaps you would—”

Shaking your head at him, you lean forward and repeat the same words you gave him earlier. “Jimin, I told you already, it’s not your fault. These things can happen. It just wasn’t meant to be.” 

Jimin presses his lips when he nods. His eyes are on you when he speaks again, “Yet, things like this shouldn’t happen. It would be bad for our business if we keep messing things up for our favourite clients.” His frown softens. His lips turn to a small grin when he notices you looking back at him with a shy smile, obviously catching on with the meaning of his words. 

“Rest assured, I’ve dealt with the problems as much as I could. For now. You will not be paired up again with your original partner in the future, and we will be looking into his personal details to see if we can have him update his data so things like this—having an appointed pairing bail due to conflicting interests, as he called it—won’t be happening again.” 

The grin disappears and switches into a look of contempt as he speaks about this, and then he carries on to say, “We have also scheduled to have our system looked over, to make sure that no one, especially you, will experience similar misfortunes.”

You sit back and look at him with wide eyes. “Wow, you work fast,” you mutter softly, amusedly, surprised that Jimin and his team would move that quickly to fix all the problems straight away. Their automated pairing system included. 

“As I should. It’s for the club’s best interest, after all,” he claims. “Of course, the first chosen club member has received a warning for his sudden retreat, and we are currently appraising the details and preferences he added in his application form to see if there was some information that he had put in inaccurately.” 

The sass and bitterness in his voice nearly make you laugh. Seems like Jimin also believes that said club member might have made up things that he wrote down in his application form. 

“And the other? You’re not going to reprimand the poor fella?” 

Jimin scoffs. “No, he already emailed us back, right before I came in. He’s out of town, and the business email address he gave us had an automated reply feature set on. That might have been the main cause of the issue.” 

“Bummer,” you say this while rolling your eyes, causing Jimin to chuckle. “Is that what you came here to talk about?”

Shaking his head, Jimin smiles softly at you and leans closer. “No, it’s not. I could’ve informed you all of this another time if that’s all I wanted to talk about.” 

He takes a quick glance around him, seeing if anyone would hear him before he continues. “My offer has to do with your original session,” he says, pausing briefly to let you process his words before he explains further, “Since the Play Room has been booked for your appointment tonight, it will remain vacant for the rest of the night. We have no other guests scheduled for a session, while the room itself has been set up to accommodate your—request.” 

He gives you a small grin while your cheeks grow warm. You are taken back to Jimin’s first reaction when he heard your request, when he sounded so surprised and amused at the same time that you regretted not contacting him through a video call instead to see the reaction on his face. “The staff have worked so hard preparing the room for your appointment. It would be a shame to let it go to waste, wouldn’t it?”

“I…suppose it would,” you respond slowly, while silently questioning where he is going with this.

“Then, I would like to offer you the chance to use the Play Room tonight,” he says, surprising you that you raise your eyebrows at him.

“Okay…But how? I don’t suppose that your system can magically find me the right partner to invite tonight. Unless you already know someone that might come in moment’s notice,” you comment with a soft chuckle, yet the way Jimin grins at you in return makes you stop. 

“If an eligible partner is what you are asking for, then there is one who is available.” 

Your jaw nearly drops. “Do you mean to say that you have found someone?” 

Jimin says nothing for a brief moment, allowing room for anticipation to start growing in your chest. And then, he surprises you again when he finally answers.  

“It’s me,” he confidently replies. While your heartbeat picks up after hearing this, a look of mirth appears in his eyes. 

You say nothing, wondering if you are hearing things. Perhaps you heard him wrong, and you are imagining things. But then Jimin speaks again, more convincingly this time, “I will be your partner so you can use the Play Room tonight.” 

Seeing that you are lost for words, Jimin holds back a chuckle and reaches out. His gentle hand rests right beside your thigh, barely touching, yet you can still feel a brush of warmth on your skin from the gesture. Your body reacts with a shudder, yet you make no move to pull away when Jimin leans in, getting into your personal space so that you can breathe in his cologne, and feel his breath on your exposed shoulder when he questions you with a low voice, “I can promise you that if you wish so dearly for your fantasy to be fulfilled tonight, then I can make sure you will not be left unsatisfied. What do you say?”

“Is that—” You are still struggling to get over your shock that you can’t find any words to say. His offer was so unexpected that you have no idea how to react. “Is that even allowed?” you finally ask, “And why would you even make such an offer?” 

Jimin’s gaze softens. “A part of it is me trying to make up for my mistake, another part is for my personal gain,” he admits, once again surprising you with his confession. “You are quite a special member of the club. As a host, it would taint my reputation if words spread that I’ve failed to provide one of my attendees with her needs tonight.” 

His gaze is locked on yours when he continues, “As a man, who has unadulterated interest in you, it would have been a great sin should I send you home tonight unsatisfied, when I know for sure that I fit quite well to the criteria you were asking for as a partner.” 

Eyes wide, you simply listen and allow his words to sink in. If only he didn’t seem so genuine about it, perhaps you would have laughed in his face. You find it hard to believe that he has any semblance of interest in you at all, or in the type of fantasy you wished to bring into reality. Enough for him to make such an offer. 

“As for whether or not I, as a staff member, am allowed to offer myself to be your partner,” he continues while you fall silent, “the rules only state that I am not allowed to be involved with a guest when I am in the hour of my shift. I don’t think the club and the executives would mind if I end my shift early tonight and re-enter as a regular patron of the club.” 

This time, you cannot stop yourself from laughing in disbelief. But you can see the honesty in his eyes, and you quickly sober up. 

“Your offer is quite tempting,” you find yourself admitting once your laughter dies down.

“Of course, it is,” he says, smiling, while looking awfully pleased and sure of himself. “You came into our club tonight in search of pleasure. We have one Play Room still open and reserved, already prepared specifically for you. It’s a win-win situation if we take this opportunity. Don’t you think so?” 

In a way, you have to admit that he is right. 

Your special request would have required some extra preparation from the club to arrange. You wonder what kind of waste that would be if the club isn’t going to find someone else to make use of it. And the more you think about it, the more tempted you are to follow him through   

“If I accept this offer,” you carefully say to him, “how will it affect my, um—” 

As if Jimin knows what you are about to ask him, he nods and explains, “Remember one of the rules from the Play Room that I shared with you when you first came in?” 

You nod your head, still remembering the rules clearly. 

“What happens in the Play Room, stays there. Once the session ends, you will remain as our esteemed guest and club member, while I remain as your host,” Jimin reassures you, “Of course, if you ever find it uncomfortable to have me deal with your future—endeavours, you are free to switch hosts and your personal contacts for your future sessions anytime you want.” 

While his explanation does sound reassuring, his last comment only displeases you. Furrowing your brows, you cannot possibly imagine having to contact anyone else other than Jimin. To allow a stranger from the club to organise your private sessions, to take notes of your preferences and progress—something that you find too personal to share with anyone—instead of having someone that you have become familiar with for the past year assisting you. 

Jimin tilts his head. He can probably see that you may need a moment to mull it over. There is no need for you to let him know that you might have already made up your mind about taking his offer. 

“You have one more drink on your card. Take your time to think about it while you have your drink. You should also know that this is an offer that I don’t give away so easily to any other members of the club,” he says, as the tips of his fingers brush against your hand. A shudder runs through you, and you begin to imagine what his touch would do to you if it were more intimate. 

Jimin leans back, brushing against the front of his suit as he takes away his warmth. “I will be waiting for your decision. Just come straight to the room that has been reserved for your session tonight. You should find the information by taking a quick visit to Saki at the concierge desk.” 

“What if I decide not to come?” 

Jimin stops. With a flicker of a smile on his face, he reaches out to you, tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear—a move which enthrals you and has your heartbeat picking up rapidly in your chest. 

“I think,” he whispers, “You will be there when I enter the room. You’ll be waiting for me on your knees, your hands folded on your lap, and your head down in submission. You will be waiting for me to tell you what I want, and ready to take my commands, just like the good girl I know you are.” 

You bite your lips and lower your eyes. “Is that how you want me tonight, Sir?” 

There is heat in his eyes when Jimin notices your subtle submission. “You should know better than to question your master once the instruction is clear.” 

— Jimin —

Jimin’s movements are stiff and his legs feel heavy as he makes his way out of the Entertainment Room. It takes a lot of effort to remain calm as he walks away from you. He almost can’t even make it to leave at all. 

But he knows that he has to. 

He feels hard as concrete down below. His pants have grown tight as he walks, and he can only hope that the dim lighting around him provides enough cover to hide it as he walks past a few guests and escorts on his way back to his office. 

Your reaction to his offer was sweet. But it was your reaction to his instructions that did things to him. It makes him want to forget everything—the rules, regulations, his duties and ethics—and go straight to the Play Room with you. To hell with the power of anticipation, when he could have gone straight into playtime if he wanted to. 

But he knows that he cannot do that. 

Not here. Not now, when he is still on duty. 

To make sure that there will be nothing getting in the way of him in spending the evening and having a session with you, he needs to do things right. First, he needs to get back to his office and deal with his remaining duties and responsibilities. Then he is going to clock out, ending his shift so he can enter the room with you as another guest instead of a host. 

A complete submission. 

That was your special request. A new kind of sexual exploit that you have claimed, time and time before, to be something that you have been interested in trying, but never had the chance or the courage to get into. Not once, because you have yet to find the right time and place to delve into it without being haunted by the fear of judgment, and without worrying about your safety. 

As Jimin closes the door to his office behind him and carefully begins stripping himself out of his suit jacket, he recalls the conversation he had with you earlier today, back when you called to make the arrangement. 

Those three words had done him over that he almost reacted with a groan in the middle of the phone call. It brought back a piece of his past; his first connection to the club, and the deepest, darkest desire that he has long kept a secret from the world, but never from the club. 

Jimin walks across the room to stand in front of the mirror that he has placed against the wall. Carefully, he untangles the ribbons keeping his mask attached to his face. With a new determination set in his mind, he strips himself of the mask that identifies him as the host of the club, and readies himself to put on a different mask. An old persona of his that not many have ever gotten the chance to see. 

Tonight, he is just another guest. 

Tonight, he is about to become the master that you need. 

— You — 

You cannot really remember how you managed to get here. 

The preparation room looks just as common as the others you used before when you booked a sex room.

Not too spacious, just comfortable enough for the guest to strip out of their clothes and change into whatever outfit or setup they need for the session. 

A small shower box and a vanity table are placed on one side of the room, provided specifically in case an attendee feels the need to clean up before or after a session. 

A wooden closet covers the other side of the room, filled with robes and costumes that you can choose from. There are also baskets and boxes here which you can use to place your personal belongings—the ones which you didn’t leave behind at the reception desk—to keep safe during a session. 

The locked door behind you should bring you back towards the hallway where Saki had left you. The soft echoes of her heels can still be heard as she makes her way back to the concierge desk after escorting you here. 

And right on the other side of the door before you is the Play Room—specifically, the room which Jimin had reserved for you tonight. 

Your body is buzzing from the inside as you stand facing it. Every part of your sense has come alive, excitement is brewing, yet you still make no move to get ready. 

Butterflies flutter in your belly while all your nerve endings are crackling. The thought of Jimin being the other person you will see once you step through that door feels like a fantasy that you never once imagined, yet merely seconds away from becoming reality. 

It’s this kind of moment when you wish that you could depend on liquid courage. The club’s drink limit wasn’t even the reason why your mind is now clear, as you never took the extra drink that Jimin offered. The moment Jimin walked out of sight, leaving you behind in the Entertainment Room to ponder over his invitation, your mind was already made up. Not even the male dancer rocking his hips towards you from behind the glass barrier did anything to sway you from your needs.

Not when Jimin’s words had already set your nerves alight, and your carnal needs burning wildly inside.  

You barely even finished your second drink when you left your seat, drawn by the promise you heard in Jimin’s voice. A promise that he would be the one to give you what you need tonight. 

Not simply as a host who is in charge of your safety and comfort. Not out of his sense of duty. 

But as a man with raw, carnal desire which you could feel from his direct words, his confidence, and his smooth, silky voice as he spoke about helping you find pleasure. 

With a deep inhale of breath, you begin peeling your clothes off. Jimin never specified how you should situate yourself aside from the hint he left you with. But you have decided that it would be best to be as prepared as you can be. 

After putting aside your shoes, pieces of jewellery, and your fancy dress into one of the baskets, you walk towards the full body mirror on the vanity table. 

The pair of eyes looking back at you look almost unrecognisable. Yet the brewing anticipation and desire are clear, even from beneath the mask. Deciding that you are going to go all in tonight, you carefully take off your mask, putting it aside with a smile on your face before stepping into the shower box. 

From what you have learned about Doms, something that you read about when you first became intrigued with the concept of submission and control, you found that some may require their subs to freshen up before entering a play. For you, personally, standing briefly under the running water has helped calm your nerves before entering an intense type of play. 

Recalling the way Jimin leaned in to breathe the scent of your perfume, you forgo using the liquid soap that you find on the shelves and simply let the water wash off the sweat on your skin and the spicy fragrance from the Entertainment Room still clinging on you.  

Once you feel refreshed and clean, you reach for the silk robe to cover yourself. It’s a thin piece that hangs perfectly on the curves of your body. Its length falls right at the top of your thighs, barely concealing your intimate parts when you sit down on the settee in front of the vanity table. 

You take your time to look at your reflection in the mirror before stepping into the next room.  

Your face is now clean from the makeup you wore for the night. Your hair is loose, the pins and hair clip are now safely secured with your other belongings, and it makes you feel more relaxed seeing the wet strands framing your clear face. 

A smile lifts itself on your face as you take a good look at yourself while imagining how Jimin would react seeing you like this—with every part of you bare of anything which may hide your truth. For him to see every part of you that no one else has ever gotten the chance to. 

If he’s going to be there as just another man, then I’ll be there as a regular woman. 

Not his usual patron or special guest. Just me. 

The door to the Play Room closes behind you with a resounding click. Almost as if sealing your fate. 

There is no turning back. 

By now, Jimin would’ve gotten notified of your arrival in the room. He might already be on his way to join you. 

It would be too late to have a change of mind now, wouldn’t it? 

You find yourself wondering about this as your gaze drifts towards the other door across the room. You can picture him entering through that door, elegantly striding into the room as if he owns the place. The same way you saw him the first time you met, when he entered the guest venue with his head held high and one of his hands tucked in his pocket as he greeted the guests attending the club’s special event. Also, the same way he did earlier when he walked off the Entertainment Room after sharing his proposition with you.  

Will he be wearing his mask still, just like your previous partners? Will he still be wearing his fancy suit—this evening, he was wearing a matching suit in deep bronze with a satin shirt in cream underneath, a complete contrast to his dark mask—or will he choose to change into something more comfortable? 

Something more—appropriate for the play, perhaps? Or maybe just something comfortable for him to play his role with? 

Thinking of all the possibilities of seeing Jimin in a different light makes the flutter inside you grow more intense. It feels overwhelming. So you try to distract yourself by taking in your surroundings instead, marvelling at what the club has done while you have the chance to soak it all in. 

This Play Room seems slightly different compared to the ones you used previously. Quite more spacious, it gives you a sense that you are inside a honeymoon suite in a resort instead of a simple sex room inside of a club. The lights here are a bit dimmer, with various more arrangements added to fill the room.

A four-poster king-sized bed is placed against the center wall to your right. Its frame is made of dark wood, with four vertical columns standing on each of its corners, made as tall as pillars reaching to the ceiling. Wooden rails are placed on its head, looking just as sturdy as the columns and sizeable enough for you to wrap your fingers around each grid. Various pillows and cushions are scattered on the mattress, all covered in dark rouge-coloured silk sheets—the shade that you see in almost every part of the club.  

The bed looks imposing as you stand right before the massive columns. Yet heat rises through your body as you picture yourself being stretched out on top of the delicate fabric, your limbs bound to those pillars and your skin bare for your partner’s eyes to see. 

Another set of doors stand on the wall across the bed. A symbol is placed at the top, similar to the one you saw one the doors to the preparation rooms similar to the one that you had just walked out of—a symbol that looks like an outline of a bathtub to give you a hint of what is on the other side. 

Your heartbeat flutters softly in your chest knowing what it means—a small bath meant to use after a playtime, or perhaps another part of the set-up meant for the Dom and sub to use during a play? 

Turning back to the room, you see two other furnitures that are set on either side of the bed which look just as imposing. 

Black-painted St. Andrews cross stands on a small platform on the left side of the bed, set up for intense bondage play. A bondage bench covered in dark red leather with leg stirrups is placed on the right side, with various instruments meant for different types of punishments hanging on the adjacent wall. Floggers, belts, whips, paddles, riding crops, and even feathers in various sizes and colours draw your attention, and your skin feels tight as you picture them being used on you. 

Looking away from those instruments, your gaze lands on a single leather high-back chair that is placed across the bed. Looking at its position, you can imagine your partner sitting there, watching as you are laid to perform any carnal act on the bed. 

This simple setup is something that you are more familiar with, learned from your previous experiences in the Play Room.

Your first experience with the Play Room was when you requested a session where you could give a blowjob to a nameless partner who was willing to be tied up and blindfolded. On the next session, you became the recipient of an invitation sent from another guest. An anonymous club member who wanted to give you pleasure through oral sex, only this time, with you being the one who was blindfolded, all while you were stretched out and bent on a long loveseat similar to the high-back chair you see in this room.

Ever since then, you have continued to use the Play Room to venture into other kinks. To understand more about yourself and follow your need to figure out what you might enjoy more in the future with a trusted partner. 

You tried to see if you could enjoy pain kink by arranging to have a partner spanking you until your skin grew tender. The first time you entered this type of session, you had your partner use his palms, who had then used those same palms to soothe away the pain and tenderness until you were left trembling under his touches. In the next session, you had a different partner use a flogger, an experience which you found painful yet thrilling that you felt like you were being sent off to a different height at the end. 

Both occasions had allowed you to learn one thing; that you can endure pain and enjoy them, and you had been left drenched between your legs with arousal after each one, that a single flick of a finger on your clit and a light blow on your slick folds were enough to send you spiralling into your climax, one that was so intense that you can still feel it each time you think about those nights. 

Another time, you tried to see if food play would be your thing. 

The idea of the play was quite erotic; as you spent it by having both you and your partner coated in chocolate syrup before licking each other clean. But the aftermath hadn’t been as pleasing. 

It was messy, sticky, and you still giggle each time you remember the dopey smile you gave each other when you found out how ticklish you actually were. It didn’t necessarily ruin the experience. But it did simmer the heat. Thankfully, your partner that night simply bid you goodbye with a chaste kiss on your cheek and a teasing wink instead of abhorrence. 

Sensory play was the next thing you tried in the Play Room. It was your partner’s turn to take the lead, by pouring hot wax on your breasts before using ice cubes to cool down the sizzling heat. He then finished the play by sucking your sensitive nipples until both of you came into climax from the thrill and heightened sensations. It was yet again something you found to be a pleasant experience. A new find in the growing list of kinks that you certainly do enjoy. 

Pressing your legs together, you try to tame down the pulsing heat growing at your center. You can feel that you are getting wet from thinking about your past experiences. Foreplays to prepare yourself for tonight’s session, as you see it. 

You have no idea what truly enticed you to request such an intense play for your session tonight. You only have a vague idea so far of what you are getting into, which only adds to the anticipation brewing inside. 

Feeling tension growing in your belly, you turn away from the bed to look at the console table standing in the center of the room. At one glance, the table only looks like another piece of adornment to complete the room setup. But upon closer inspection, you quickly notice the entire set-up of what you may need during your play. 

Assortments of smaller instruments and sex toys are laid perfectly in order on top of the table, all chosen according to your personal preferences as written in your registration form. From plugs, clamps, and vibrators in different types, sizes, and colours. To a variety of ropes and fabrics that you can only imagine how they are going to be made use of during the play. 

There is an addition of a set of hemp rope beside the silk ropes that you have listed as something which you thought might be more comfortable to be used on you, and you wonder if Jimin had added it as his own preference to try with you after volunteering to be your partner tonight. 

Reaching out, you brush the tips of your fingers over the items on the table, trying to decide if you should pick something out of them yourself before Jimin arrives. Even if only so you could have something to hold on to as you wait. 

But then Jimin’s last instruction echoes through your mind, reminding you of the command he gave before he left— 

“You’ll be waiting for me on your knees, your hands folded on your lap, and your head down in submission.” 

Thump. Thump. Your heart begins beating rapidly in your chest. Warmth surges through your body, pulling at your skin, as his gentle voice comes to you like a soft, demanding caress, 

“You will be waiting for me to tell you what I want…”

The intense flutter in your chest returns, and you pull your hand away from the table. 

Smoothing down the front of your robe, you carefully climb onto the bed. You settle down near the foot of the bed, knees folded beneath you to cushion your weight. You rest your palms on your thighs, loosening your fingers instead of clenching them, and lower your head in submission. 

And then you wait.  

Seconds tick by into minutes. 

Silence has thickened as you continue kneeling on the bed, waiting for Jimin to arrive. 

Your heartbeat has grown steady. The unrest and anxiousness you felt have dwindled in your wait. Your legs are beginning to grow numb. Yet there is something about the power of anticipation which has the rest of your body come alive.

While your mind is empty, you are still focused. Your senses are on high alert. Your skin has become sensitive to the touch, to every shift in the air, to every brush of soft breeze flowing from the air conditioner. 

The gentle click from the other door sounds like it’s coming from far away. It doesn’t take long for your mind to register what it means, as it is the sound that you have been waiting for ever since you claimed your position.  

Jimin is here. 

You remain in your position, keeping your eyes lowered as the gentle sound of footfalls fills the room. You can feel him approaching, stopping to stand right before you without making any other sound. For a moment, you can hear nothing else but the sound of your steady heartbeat and his subtle breathing, until—

“You follow my instructions really well.” His voice comes as a murmur, with a praise that comes out of his lips like a humming tune. It brings back the butterflies fluttering in your belly, growing wild and expanding, before exploding into sparks when he adds, 

“Good girl.” 

Your hands are clenched, and unclenched, in perfect rhythm as the blood flooding warmly in your veins. Receiving his praise surprisingly feels—good. 

His words feel almost as succulent as the most expensive wine you have ever tasted. You immediately file this new discovery as something that you find as something pleasing. 

Jimin places a knuckle under your chin and lifts your face to look at him. “Hello there, angel.” 

Every single thought in your head is quieted the moment you get to look at Jimin. Evidently, he has taken his time to clean up. His suit is gone, replaced by a silk robe which is almost a matching pair to yours. Even his mask is no longer present, leaving not a single trace of lace to cover his beautiful face. 

You feel like you are dreaming. You have tried to picture him before, more than once. But your imagination doesn’t seem fair enough when you finally get a good look at him. 

You don’t realise how obvious you are in admiring Jimin’s presence until a slow smile grows on his face. He seems amused at your reaction, even if it’s quite clear that you are not the only one to do it. Jimin’s perusing gaze lingers on your face as he brushes his thumb across your cheek. 

“This is the first time you are showing me your face ever since the first night you came to the club,” Jimin muses with his gentle voice. So soft that you almost miss it thanks to the sound of your thundering heart. 

“This is the first time I get to see your face—ever,” you respond with a smile, drawing a soft chuckle from him. 

“I suppose this will be a fair treat for both of us,” Jimin says with a low voice as he lets go of your chin and draws himself back. “Open my robe.” 

Your fingers are slightly shaking as you reach out to him. Dainty fingers pull on the sash binding his robe together until the thin fabric comes apart, revealing his bare chest, his firm torso, and the soft V-line leading down towards his semi hard-on. You cannot resist licking your lips, wishing that you could trace his skin, to run your fingers down the lines on his body and the artful black lines written on the side of his chest. 

A tattoo. How amusing, you wonder, while silently questioning if there is more ink work on other parts of his body that you are going to find. 

You take another second to marvel at this new, unexpected part of him, before your gaze drifts up to his face, waiting for his next instruction. You start to reach up to peel the robe from his shoulders, yet he gently catches your wrist before you can even try. “That’s enough for now, angel.” 

“Ah. Yes, Sir.” 

Jimin tilts his head as he holds your hands in his, gently pulling you up while saying, “Rise, angel. Let me have a good look at you.” 

You can barely feel your legs as you rise, but you barely feel any worries of falling when Jimin keeps a firm hold of your hand with one hand, and your waist on the other. He keeps you balanced when your feet are on the floor and you find yourself swaying. 

“Easy, now,” he teases as helps you steady yourself on your feet. “Good. Now don’t move.” Once he is convinced that you can stand on your own, Jimin steps back. Though he keeps his eyes on you, watching you closely when he says, “I want you out of that robe.” 

With a deep intake of breath, you reach down and pull to untie the sash around your robe. The silky cover comes apart, revealing your bare skin underneath. You can hear the soft intake of breath coming from Jimin, making your skin flush at the thought of him being affected by the sight of your bareness.  

Something else shines through Jimin’s eyes when he looks at you, smouldering with an unnamed intent. Something illicit and dark, sending shivers through your spine. But it also feels delicate and warm, not the kind of sensation that would send you shrinking into the bed and hiding from him. 

Jimin takes a step closer. Then another step. Then he runs his fingers on the front lining of your robe, rising up to your shoulders. “You are beautiful, angel. Exquisite,” he whispers smoothly with his fingers moving your hair back. 

He gently peels your robe off of your shoulders, allowing it to fall to the floor, pooling around your bare feet. The tips of his fingers brush against your skin as he does this, prompting a shudder surging through your body. 

“Those fools have no idea what they were missing when they failed to show up tonight,” he murmurs, referring to the club members that were initially chosen for you to have as your master tonight. 

But you have barely thought of them at all. Not since the moment Jimin offered to take the role that has been left vacant in their absence.  

You are lost in your thoughts for a brief moment that you don’t realise how closer he has gotten. Not until you feel the warmth of his words against your lips. His eyes look deeply into yours as he trails his fingers down the length of your bare arms. 

It feels thrilling, the way he is touching you, and the way your body is reacting to the featherlight touches of his fingers. It feels intoxicating, more than what you’ve gained from the drinks you had earlier. Your mind is clouded, and his heated gaze keeps you entranced, making it hard for you to look away, yet your mind is still clear enough to take in everything that is happening at the moment.  

Your gaze falls to his lips. With him leaning so close, all you have to do is tilt your head and your lips would touch each other. But neither of you make a move. 

His eyes move down just then, lingering on your lips. Just when you think he is about to kiss you, Jimin retreats and carefully guides you back to the edge of the bed. “Back on the bed for now, angel. Resume your position for me.” 

Disappointment weighs down your chest, yet you quickly brush it off and keep your voice steady. “Yes, Sir.” 

The loss of this touch makes your skin feel cold, so you hold on to the heat coming out of his eyes as you move back to the bed. Moving under his unwavering gaze makes you feel more hyper-aware of your state of nudity. He isn’t even touching you the way you want him to yet, but you can already feel warmth surging through your skin simply from the intense way his eyes are following every move you make. 

Sitting back on the bed, a gasp slips out of your lips. You are surprised to find how wet you have already gotten underneath, all coming simply from his unwavering attention. The slickness of your arousal isn’t yet intense, but present, sticking on your skin as you settle back with your legs folded beneath you, hands on your lap, your gaze lowered in submission as you wait for his next move. 

Jimin acknowledges your obedience with a nod, and then turns away to make his way across the room, straight to the console table. You watch from under your eyelashes as Jimin moves, his robe flittering on his back. You quickly notice how his slow, yet confident strides hold something different in them more than what you have seen from him before. 

An air of dominance and control. Imposing, but not enough to instil fear, and still as elegant as how you have always seen him. 

Jimin might not be as brunt as the Dominants you’ve learned about from your research through the internet or what was written in the books you’ve read. He isn’t hard and tough. Instead, he is—gentle, while still commanding in his own way. He has a kind of tenderness that serves like a magic spell, one which makes you want to obediently obey and follow. He lights up the desire you have in you to submit to his every will, to please him, without having to say too much. 

The way he feels so comfortable in his own skin also amazes you. Looking at his back, you almost forget that he is bare underneath. The way he embraces himself puts you in awe, that you cannot help but continue admiring him. 

As Jimin reaches the console table, he holds out his hand and begins running his fingers on the assortment of instruments and toys being displayed, and you inadvertently straighten your back. Jimin seems to be taking his time perusing the playthings on the table, causing your nerves to spark as you anticipate what’s coming next.

“You requested to experience a complete submission. Is that right, angel?” he gently asks, and for a moment, your brain nearly fails to register his question before you finally find your voice again,  

“Yes, Sir. I did.” 

Jimin looks over his shoulder. “Now that you’ve seen everything we’ve prepared for your playtime tonight, you haven’t changed your mind, have you?” 

You lick your lips. “No, Sir.”

“Good,” he says with a hum. “Before we start—” Jimin angles his body to look at you, and the light from the ceiling falls on his covered back, allowing you to see through his sheer robe to see some more ink work lining down his spine. 

“Pick a safeword, angel.” 

You drag your eyes away from his back, looking at his face as you consider your choice of safeword, before deciding to go with what your mind is more familiar with. “Red,” you answer him with a soft voice. “Red means to stop.”  

His lips twitch with a knowing smile. “Favourite colour?” 

You shake your head. “Not really. It’s just easier to remember when I suddenly need to use it.” 

Humming to himself, Jimin nods. “Good thinking,” he compliments you, his eyes glinting under the lights as he looks at you to say, “I personally love your choice.” 

Jimin turns his attention back to the table, and as the robe on his body moves along with him, you finally get to see the vague lines of his back tattoo through the sheer fabric. 

Moon phases. How fitting. 

Your gaze is pulled back onto Jimin’s hands as he moves to trace his fingers across the items on the table. As he reaches for the silk and hemp ropes, your skin grows tight with excitement. 

Bondage is something that you are still unfamiliar with. But you had clearly stated in your request today that it would be something that you would be interested to learn and do through the session should your partner—your master—be willing. 

As your host, you know damn well that Jimin would have taken account of this part of your request. And he seems to be making it clear to you that he is more than willing to introduce you to this form of play tonight. 

With a gentle hand, Jimin picks up the silk rope. He plays with the fabric in his fingers for a moment, feeling its texture. He then moves on to the next items, perusing them as closely as he did with the binding materials provided for him. Your core grows warm as he touches one of the small toys and starts filtering through the plugs. Then he moves on again, allowing you a brief relief, only until he brushes his fingers against the collection of clamps in various shapes and sizes that you saw previously. 

“How much can you endure pain?” he asks you while he carefully browses through each item while sneaking glances at you from over his shoulder. 

You lick your lips. Tingles run through your body as you try to imagine all the things he could possibly do to you, as you picture the previous experiences you’ve had when it comes to finding pleasure through inflicted pain. 

“I tolerate them quite fairly.” 

“Have you tried these?” As Jimin turns and lifts his hand for you to see, a golden chain hangs from his fingers. A clinking sound draws your eyes to the ends of the chain, where a set of clamps is seen hanging from it, glimmering in the shade of gold. The thin piece of gold looks like a regular piece of jewellery in his hand. And yet it’s hard for you to marvel at its beauty when you that it serves a completely different purpose when used. 

“Not yet, Sir.” 

Nodding, Jimin puts the clamps back in their place without asking further questions. Then he reaches out to the lines of thin fabric which you identify as blindfolds and mouth covers. 

“Blindfold?” he offers with a raised brow. 

“No,” your answer comes out easily before you even have the chance to mull it over. “Not tonight. I want to be able to look at you.” 

Jimin lets out a soft chuckle as he finally turns away from the table. His mind is already made up with what kind of play he wants to have with you. His determined eyes look straight at you as he steps closer with a silky fabric in his hands—which looks more like a ribbon instead of the rope he was playing with—yet the smile you see on his face softens all the tension in your body. 

“How are you doing, angel? You’re still okay?”

“Yes, sir.” You lick your lips. “Quite nervous,” you admit. Desperate for a distraction, you look down on his hands as he slides the thin strip of silk through his fingers. He plays around with the soft material while keeping his eyes on you, taking in your honest reaction. 

“Give me your hands. I want to try something before we continue.” 

Jimin’s deliberate tone stills your heartbeat. You slowly raise your palms, inches from his waist. The silk strip is soon wound around your wrists, his deft fingers carefully securing the knot just as you begin to tremble. Once he is done, Jimin brings your bound wrists to his chest and slips a finger between your wrist and the fabric to make sure the bond isn’t too tight.  

Keeping your bound wrists to his chest, he draws your attention to his face as his lips are pulled into a slow smile. “Tonight, I’m just another guest,” Jimin says to you once he gains your attention, “I am only here to please you, to guide you as your master. Tonight, you are mine to take care of and give pleasure to, but you are to listen to what I say so we can both find pleasure at the end of this session. Is that clear?” 

You respond to him with a nod, yet he immediately makes a disapproving noise with his tongue. “From now on, you will respond to me with your words every time I speak to you. Is that clear, angel?” 

A whisper of a breath leaves your lips before you finally answer, “Yes, Sir.” 

His smile returns. “Now repeat to me. What is your safeword again?” 

“Red.” 

“Very good. Do you willingly put yourself in my hands tonight?” he asks, while he gently strokes the side of your body with his free hand, lightly digging his fingers into your bare back while his thumb grazes the side of your breast. 

“Y-yes, Sir,” you answer with a gasp as he presses down on your skin. 

“If you want to slow down, or if you’re not feeling sure about continuing and need a moment to take a breath, you can also use ‘yellow’ to let me know, and I’ll hold back for you. Use ‘red’ only if you want to stop.” Releasing your secured wrists, Jimin tilts your chin up to get you to look at him. “But you must remember that red or stop means everything ends, and I will put our play to a complete stop, and there’s where we end the night. Do you understand?” 

You give him a quick nod. “Yes, Sir.” 

“Do you trust me?” 

With your gaze locked on his, you answer him firmly with, “I do.” 

Pleased with your answer, he gently pulls you up from your current position. “Sit on the end of the bed for me, angel.” With one hand on your bound wrists, Jimin holds you steady, while he uses his other hand to help you unfold your legs and let them hang on the side of the bed. 

“Easy. Lie down for me.” He bends down with you as he lowers you down to the bed until you are lying on your back. 

His gentle hands run down the sides of your body once more as he helps you settle down on top of the silky sheets, taking account of every dent and curve forming your figure. His touch then traces down your thighs, carefully rising them up until your knees are bent and the heels of your feet are resting right on the edge of the mattress. Then he reaches up, palms gripping your hips before pulling you back down a bit closer to the edge of the bed. 

“Open your legs for me, angel,” he murmurs, and you easily comply, spreading yourself to expose your bare center. He gives you an appreciative hum as he glides his hands back up, guiding your arms above your head. The tips of your fingers brush against the covers, and he helps you get a grip on the soft fabric before letting you go. 

Once he positions himself between your knees, his hands are immediately back on your legs, and they start moving slowly up your thighs. He keeps going upward, tracing his palms up the curve of your hips, to your waist, brushing the sides of your breasts as he continues his way up. 

His featherlight touches on your skin have your body trembling, your senses coming alight, warmth surging down south to where you are bare and exposed to his eyes. 

But those pretty eyes of his never waver from your face. Not even as he bends forward, covering your body with the length of his until his face is so close to yours. 

“Hold on tight and don’t let go,” he whispers close as he slowly moves down until he is kneeling on the floor, his face disappearing between your legs. 

He runs his hands back up your thighs. A velvety touch that draws a myriad of sensations through your body. Then his fingers slip down towards your center, sliding right between your thighs to find your mounds. You immediately grow damp as Jimin draws a finger up between your folds. Your body immediately quakes with pent-up desire in response to his touch. Your hips rise, hoping to press down against his touch, only to have him pulling away. 

“Jimin,” you gasp.

“Yes, angel?” he coyly asks as he bends down and starts teasing your inner thighs with soft, tickling kisses. It draws soft gasps slipping out of your lips, before your breath is caught in your throat the more he rises closer to your center. His hands move down just then, settling on your spread knees to keep you from writhing off of the bed. 

“Touch me, please.” 

“Hmmm, I don’t recall ever agreeing to let you give orders, angel,” he gently chastises you, his lips never wavering too far from your skin. “You promised that you are mine tonight, remember? That means you are mine to do with as I wish.” 

A soft groan escapes your lips. You cannot help it. You are growing desperate already and his teases keep testing your patience. 

“Are you sure you want me to touch you?” 

“Yes, please!” you nearly scream. The desperation you feel is clawing at your chest. Unable to move your arms, you clench your hands tightly on the silky sheets the same way you wish you could pull his head towards your pulsing core.  

His teeth scrape up your inner thigh, and you finally cry out. But when he doesn’t move any closer to your center, you arch your body upwards, nearly shoving your hips towards his face to chase his lips. 

“Hold still,” he gently reprimands you with his grip tightening on your thighs. “You will not move, angel. No matter what I do. Not until I say you can. Do you understand?” 

You suck a deep breath and swallow, nodding your head before you remember his command to speak. “Uh, yes. I understand.”

Please. 

You swallow back the word that you want so much to say. Even if you have no idea what you are begging him for.  

Jimin grabs your hips and yanks your body down towards him, your bottom only lying partly on the bed and your legs hanging in the air as he lifts them upward, knees still bent and raised until your legs are partly folded above you. As if he heard your plea, Jimin dips back down and focuses on your center, his hands moving directly to the place where you need him the most. 

Jimin wastes no time. You barely see or hear him move, when suddenly, two fingers plunge deep into your drenched pussy, drawing a scream from your lips. Your hips buck upward, nearly hitting Jimin right in the chin, and he immediately draws his fingers out. 

“That is one,” he says, almost sounding pleased, while you are too far gone to make sense of what he is saying.

Jimin cups your chin and guides you to meet his gaze. “Angel? Did you hear me?” 

Whining, you shake your head vehemently and whimper, “N-no, Sir. I didn’t.” 

Jimin bites back his grin. Your eyes are glazed with lust, yet you can still see the amused look on his face, as if he is enjoying the way you keep defying him so easily. 

“That was one,” he repeats himself, “One time you disobeyed me after I specifically told you not to.”

He trails his fingers across your hips while your heart flutters in your chest. “I will count each time you fail to follow my command, and once you reach the count of ten, you will be punished. Do you understand, angel?” 

You lick your lips. You know the risk of not following his words and what it may entail, and your heartbeat picks up, only for a different reason other than fear. The promise of punishment shouldn’t excite you so much. Yet it does. “Yes, Sir.” 

“I want you to stay perfectly still, angel. And do not come until I say so. Understand?” 

“Okay. I mean, yes. Yes, Sir,” you answer with a small voice, already feeling the effect of his touch as his fingers begin to trail closer and closer to your heat. 

Your body grows still, waiting for the touch that takes its sweet time to come. But then he stops. His hands disappear from your skin, and he suddenly dives forward and bites down on your inner thigh, making you gasp as your clit throbs in both pleasure and pain. 

Jimin continues, kissing and licking a burning trail towards your mound. A soft growl comes out of him when he tastes your arousal. “Spread your legs wider,” he says, lifting your left leg to rest on his shoulder once you do as he commands. 

A single finger slips inside you, entering your warmth. He moves it gently, swirling and pressing against your hot walls, drawing your cries when his touch finds the spot where you are pulsing with pleasure. 

You let your head fall back as you begin savouring his touch. To feel the waves of raw pleasure building, rising, and pooling right at your core before they begin to spread all over your body. Yet Jimin never gives you the chance to relish it, as he suddenly draws his finger back out, leaving your hot walls clenching onto nothing. 

In desperate need to chase the dwindling pleasure, to feel him inside you again, your hips rise before you realise it happening. A deep chuckle is heard, letting you know that you have messed up. 

“How many, angel?” 

His voice is soft, yet it still brings shivers down your spine as you breathe out. “T-two.”

“Seems like you’ll need more practice about control,” he hums softly. You open your eyes, your gaze blurry as you watch him licking his finger. A soft whimper slips out of you, then he lowers his hands once more. You feel his fingers trailing down your inner thighs, making their way back to your pulsing center. His lips follow close, replacing his touch as he leaves a brief, teasing kiss on your mound. 

“Hmmm,” Jimin hums before returning for more, pressing his lips on your slick folds and licking your arousal, “You taste delicious, angel. Like a drop of bourbon. Sweet, and delectable.” 

While he keeps whispering sweet, sultry words, your words slip away from your mind. Every hot breath falling on your skin as he continues trailing his lips on your mound—going across, between, up, and then down—sends goosebumps through your body. Each time, you feel him taking a deep breath, as if soaking in your scent while he continues tasting you, all while murmuring pleasantries to tell you how intoxicating it is to breathe in the heady fragrance from your body. 

Your thighs tremble as you struggle to hold back, not wanting to break his rule one more time even when you can feel your body twitching, your hips in desperate need to thrust upward into his lips so he would devour you. You fight so hard that you are beginning to find it hard to catch your breath. 

“Please,” you softly beg, “I can’t.” 

“Yes, you can,” Jimin mumbles against your skin. 

“Please, Sir.” The desperate whisper comes out with a hoarse voice, and it takes away all of your focus. 

Everything that happens next unfolds before you can stop it. 

Jimin’s lips hover above your hot center, his warm breath coats the slickness that has been building between your slit. You feel the briefest of a kiss right before a finger slides back in, pushing deep just as his mouth clamps around your clit. Sparks fly underneath your eyelids while your inner walls begin clenching around his finger, and you cannot stop yourself from rocking your hips, following each pulse of pleasure that is brewing inside you as you push to grind your center against his mouth. 

Anything you try to do to stop the waves of pleasure from continuing to build fails as Jimin slides two fingers inside you, curling them up against your sweet spot, and you immediately lose every last control you still have. 

Your pussy draws tightly around him, and just as you feel the coil loosening and snapping inside you, he bites your inner thigh, hard, just a mere inch away from your pulsing core.

With a cry, your body jolts and arches, and your hips begin rocking in the same rhythm as the pulse rising in your body. Your body rises from the bed once, twice, and right before you cross over the edge at the third rocking, everything stops when Jimin laps the mark he left behind with his bite and pulls back. 

“Still counting, angel? Where are we now?” 

“I—” You gasp, finding trouble to catch your breath and to focus on his voice. “I can’t—” 

“Don’t lie to me, angel. You don’t want me to add your punishment for defying me, do you?” 

Sucking a deep breath, you try to count how many times you felt your body rocking against him. “Six, sir. That was six. I—I think.”  

Jimin hums. “The numbers seem to be rising. Are you deliberately letting yourself go just to test me? Are you that curious to know what kind of punishment you’re getting if you keep disobeying me?” 

You shake your head as you look up at him. “N-no, Sir. I wouldn’t dare.” 

With a smirk on his face, Jimin presses his lips on your quivering thigh. “Prove it to me, angel. Try a bit harder to hold back. Remember, you’re not allowed to cum until I allow you to. If you dare cum, we’ll make it twice the count. Is that clear?” 

Pressing your lips together, you stop yourself from crying out a protest. Only for another sound to come out of your lips when Jimin dips back down between your legs, and he isn’t using his hands this time to push you over the edge. 

Without warning, he dips his tongue deep between your swollen nether lips, searching for your opening. You let out a sharp cry at the invasion but do nothing to move away. The sinful touch of his lips and tongue feels like heaven, it sends your body straight towards the height of pleasure. 

Jimin stills your convulsing hips with his hands as he continues to move his tongue in circles, lapping at your pussy like a man with pure hunger. He trails his tongue up your labia, drinking in your essence and tasting every drop of your slickness, before moving back down until he reaches your tight back hole. 

The sound of your moans increases, growing more intense the more your excitement grows in you when you feel him rimming the floret. His fingers work your lower lips, right where his mouth has been, which keeps flooding with drops of your arousal. Jimin smiles against your heat, as if he knows that you might explode and come to climax at any given time if he continues like this. 

You try to focus on holding still, to stop the telltale of your orgasm from manifesting before you are allowed to make it happen. But Jimin isn’t giving up on testing your limit just yet. 

He gives a few more licks before his mouth moves back up, finding your folds, his tongue slipping between your slit to press against your opening. When his tongue finds purchase, his teeth grazing at your clit, he presses a finger at your back entrance and slips a knuckle in. You are too far gone in the erupting pleasure to stop it from unleashing. Your orgasm takes over your body like a massive wave, and you let everything go with a scream. 

Tears trail down your cheeks at how intense it feels, your release breaking down the barrier you try so hard to put up. Your back arches up to the ceiling when the wave of your climax comes rushing in, while your entire body quakes with your release. 

Jimin kisses your skin with a soft growl, snapping you out of it. You are still struggling to catch your breath when Jimin gently lowers your leg and begins crawling his way up on the bed, covering you with his warmth. Making a sound with his tongue, he takes your bounded hands and carefully loops them around his neck. You open your eyes as he pulls you up against him, taking you with him as he takes a seat on the edge of the bed. 

His arms come wrapping around you as he brings you onto his lap, and you instantly collapse against his chest, turning boneless in his embrace. “I’m sorry,” you whisper to him, “I couldn’t—”

Jimin silences you with a gentle kiss on your temple. “That was quite a show, angel.” He begins kissing away your tears. “Quite an intense one.” 

You gasp when you realise what has just transpired. The spasms of your unbidden release are surging through you together with your pulsing blood. “I tried—” 

“I know,” he coos softly, soothing you, yet there is a glint of knowing in his eyes when he pulls back, his thumb brushing away the remaining tears on your cheeks. “Your body must have grown more sensitive from being stimulated continuously, and I wasn’t making it easy for you knowing that this might be the first time someone else is taking control of your pleasure,” he confesses with a smile on his face that doesn’t show any hint of remorse. “But rules are still rules, angel. You know that.” 

“Yes, I understand.” 

“Good girl,” he says, those simple words light up some fire in your chest. and your mind begins to spin, floating higher just as he carefully lifts you up from his lap. 

Needing to have something to grab onto so you can ground yourself, your fingers find the strands of his hair, sinking into them before grasping at them. When Jimin finally releases you, he gently lays you back onto the mattress. 

He smiles at you as he unlatches your arms from around his neck, bringing them up over your head again. 

“Look at me, angel,” he whispers while looking at you with a deep, smouldering gaze, and you are powerless to look away. “Have you been keeping count of how many times you disobeyed me with that last release? What are we at now?” 

Recalling what he says earlier about giving twice the punishment should you let yourself come to climax without his permission, you swallow hard before answering, “That would make it e-eight, Sir?” 

“Very good,” he praises you once again, bringing back that same flutter in your chest when he smiles. With gentle movement, he carefully moves you up to the center of the mattress, giving you a brief moment of respite. “Now stay still for a moment. Are your arms hurting? You can lower them for a while as you wait.” 

You bite your lips. “Can’t I take the silk tie off?” 

Jimin chuckles. “No, angel. You need to keep those hands tied so I know you’ll behave.” 

Slowly, you lower your arms to your chest, giving yourself a little break even if your wrists are still tied up together. “They aren’t too tight, are they?” Jimin asks while cupping your cheek. He watches you closely as you try to get comfortable against the silky sheets. 

“No, Sir,” you answer after pulling and twisting your hands to test the tension, finding them quite loose, even if the bind will not fall apart if you pull harder. 

“Good. Now try to relax and stay still for a moment,” Jimin says as he slowly moves away. “I’m going to prepare everything we need.” 

The moment he disappears from view, your curiosity grows. You wish you could see what he is doing, but your position makes it hard for you to look across the room. Unless you want to defy his command and lift your body from the mattress just to get a look at him. After a moment of silence passes, you begin to feel uneasy. 

“Jimin?” 

“I’m here, angel. I’m not going anywhere far,” he reassures you, as if he knows how vulnerable you are feeling when he is not in sight while you are lying naked and frustrated. 

But it doesn’t take long before he returns. You can hear him setting down a few items on the side of the bed and fiddling with them before making his way round to your end of the bed to return to you. 

“Move all the way back on the bed, angel. Against the pillows, and keeps your legs apart, knees up.” 

Licking your lips, you slowly roll to your side and rise on your hands and knees, before you begin crawling your way up the bed. You can feel his gaze on you as you move, your bare bottom exposed to his eyes, and your arousal still dripping down the top of your thighs. Feeling his gaze on you, your hips instinctively start swaying just to give him a show, even if you are struggling a little with your wrists still bound together.  

You feel completely hyperaware of everything as you gingerly position yourself at the top of the bed with your back resting against the pillows. Your skin feels warm under his gaze, and while he isn’t the one touching you, your skin tingles as you gently lift your knees up, keeping them bent as you spread your legs apart for him. 

The bed dips as Jimin climbs onto the bed to follow you. His movement is graceful, even as he crawls on the mattress like a predator coming to his prey. The dark look in his eyes distracts you enough to make you miss the item he is carrying in his hands until he kneels back, towering over you with his gaze running down your body. 

“Give me your hands.” 

You gingerly show him your hands, still tied together at the wrist with the silk slip. With a tug, Jimin releases the bind, freeing your hands together. You draw a gasp as the blood flows through your skin again, drawing a soft chuckle from Jimin as he watches closely at your reaction. 

“Don’t look so relieved just yet, angel. I’m taking this off because I have something better to replace it.” He smiles to you, before revealing the bundle in his hand—a lengthy silk rope in the colour of red, almost as thick as the hemp rope you saw on the table earlier. “I wonder if taking away your control completely will help you submit easier. That’s why I brought this over to help us out.” 

Swallowing hard, your skin grows warm at the implication of his words, right as he unravels the thick silk rope. Its length seems sufficient enough for him to have it wrapped around all over your body. To have not only your limbs restricted from any movement, but your entire self, taking away your control. 

A complete submission. 

Your heart races at a thundering pace, realising that Jimin is about to fulfil your wish. You gently move your body, arching your chest and trying to find comfort as he gets closer. A smile flickers on his face as he watches your reactions, and then it fades when he takes your hands in his. 

“Did you know that years ago, when this club first opened for business, this room, specifically, had a different name?” Jimin questions you as he untangles the silk rope right before your eyes. “Back then, this room was called the Bondage Room.”

You lick your lips, doing your best to control your breath, to focus on his words, and not fall under the excitement rising inside your chest. 

Jimin continues while he gently stretches out the silk rope until it unravels to its full length, “But with other, more discreet, and well-extinguished clubs housing Doms and subs, we didn’t have as much request from them to use this room, except for the regular Doms who have then become our earliest VIP members and would always come back for more. The smaller Play Rooms were being developed at the same time, and these rooms intrigued more people, so we added this special room as one of the optional Play Rooms to make it less”—a grin appears on his face—”imposing.” 

“Intriguing,” you whisper with a hum, your voice coming out small. You clear your throat, hoping that your voice is steady when you speak again, “That’s quite an intense name for such a room. But—” You look around the room, only just as much as your position allows you to, and then add, “Well, compared to the rooms I’ve looked up online, I don’t think this room is—” 

“Adequate enough to earn its name?” He softly chuckles. “Oh, these furnitures aren’t the only things the club prepared for the room to serve its purpose.” 

You raise your eyebrows. “Do they come out of the storage when someone like me, or a client, requests them to? Just like—” You take a deep breath, then release, your eyes flickering to the rope in his hands. “Like these tools and toys we’re using?” 

“Oh, they’re all here. They’re always ready to be used,” he muses as he pulls one end of the silk rope with one hand, and uses the other hand to tilt your chin up, drawing your eyes far upwards instead of stopping on his face, “You’re just not seeing them yet.” 

You look up, and sure enough, you see them. Up on the ceiling, there are sets of lattices of steel grids and tracks. The muted flecks of light are reflected against hooks and carabiners tethered to thin girders on the corners of the room. You can even see those same hooks hanging right above your head, spread between the tall pillars rising on each corner of the bed which seem strong enough to hold the entire length of silk rope—or the hemp rope that Jimin prepared—should he choose to use them. 

“We’re not playing with these hooks yet,” Jimin explains, as if he knows where your mind is running off to. “You’ll get there one day, once you’ve gotten used to it.” 

You bite your lips, trying not to get too excited when you hear the implications he is giving you; the chance for more, somewhere in the future. 

“Have you, um—” You are not sure how to ask, or if you have any rights to, but your curiosity gets the better of you. “Have you used this room before?” 

The smile that Jimin wears on his face deepens. “I was the man they hired to put this room to a test before it was opened for the rest of the guests.”  

His answer surprises you, yet it drives your mind spinning, both with anticipation and relief, knowing that you have gotten the perfect partner—the perfect master—to guide you through this whole thing. You immediately start looking at Jimin in a different light when your gaze finds him again, before you are lost in the intensity you see in his eyes when he looks at you. 

Jimin lowers his face, holding his gaze on yours as he presses gentle kisses on your fingers, palms, and wrists, soothing the tingles you still feel from the first bind with his lips. His kisses linger right where the silk strip was wrapped around your skin, sending shudders throughout your body. 

His gaze, his kisses, and his touch are so enthralling that you cannot look away, distracting you from his other hand as he slowly brings the silk rope around your wrists, starting with one before going to the other.  

His fingers are gentle against your skin, and his gaze is soft. He easily takes away any tension you still have in your body when he begins his work. Instead of feeling anxious, you find your body relaxing under his touch, even as your control is being restrained as Jimin ties your wrists together. 

Still with his eyes on yours, he finishes and leans down to kiss your wrist again, pressing his lips right on top of the silk rope holding your hands together. Once again, he does the same thing as before, testing the bind and slipping his fingers between the rope and your skin to make sure there is enough space to keep you from getting hurt. 

“I need you to tell me everything you are feeling. Everything that goes through your mind. And don’t feel scared to use your safewords anytime you need them. Okay, angel?” 

Your breath is heavy when you pull it in, but you still manage to answer, “Yes, Sir. Okay.” 

He smiles. “Very good,” he says, as he pulls the tails from the silk rope and lays the rest of the lengths on either side of you. 

“How are you now? Comfortable?” 

“Yes,” you breathe out. Your voice fades to a soft gasp as his fingers run gently down the column of your throat, before moving up to your chin. His eyes are slightly dark and hazy as he runs his thumb across your lips. 

“I’m going to tie you to the bed to stop you from moving and fighting me. Make sure to loosen up your body and relax. Don’t fight me if you don’t want to hurt yourself trying. Understand?” 

“Yes. I understand,” you whisper breathlessly. Your voice is nearly drowned under the sound of your thundering heart as you anticipate his next move. 

Another gasp slips out of you as Jimin presses a firm grip on your hips and guides you to slide forward. Settling deeper into the silk pillows, you try not to panic when he presses your palms to his lips, one side and then the other, and then stretches your now restrained arms over your head. 

Using one hand, he holds you still in position, while he moves his other hand to gather around the silk rope. You feel a tug as he winds the rope around the bars on the headboard, tethering you to the bed frame so that you won’t be able to move your arms anymore. 

He brings the rest of the rope down, wrapping it around your arms, down and under your shoulders. Then he winds it above and under your breasts, framing your soft mounds and giving them a bit of tension. You can feel your skin tightening under the bind, your nipples becoming slightly more sensitive as the blood in your veins seems to gather at those gentle peaks, that even a brush of chill air makes them pucker. 

“Still green, angel?” Jimin asks you as he pauses briefly, gauging your reaction. 

The sound of your pulsing blood makes it hard for you to think for a moment. But then his words sink in, and you try to test the restrain. 

Expecting to feel pain and complete stillness, you are surprised to find that aside from the tension on your wrists and the muscles around your shoulders, you can still find comfort. Your arms may not be able to move, but your chest isn’t tight, and your breath isn’t restrained, even if every part of your body and your skin has become more responsive to every sensation being delivered to you. 

“Yes,” you answer him as you test around the restraint one last time before settling back down. 

“That’s good. Now relax.” Jimin then dips, disappearing from sight for a moment as he moves on the bed. You try to swivel your head and twist so you can see him, but once again, your position obscures you from looking around. 

“Jimin—” You start calling his name, only to feel his hand brushing against your ankle. “I’m not leaving you, angel. You can trust me, can’t you?” 

Exhaling a sigh, you whisper to him, “I’m sorry for doubting you, Sir.” 

You have no idea why you are feeling insecure, to feel anxious whenever he isn’t visible. As if you need his presence to feel calm. 

The restraints on your upper body make you feel self-conscious, vulnerable, yet liberating at the same time, knowing that the only thing you need to do is surrender. Only that you are still finding it hard to completely surrender your control when you have spent your entire life taking control. 

A soft chuckle comes out of Jimin when he hears you. “Shh…no need to apologise. You are doing very well.” 

His praise comes at the same time his gentle fingers begin running down your legs. You see him kneeling between your parted legs when you open your eyes, his fingers drawing circles around your ankles, up to your calves, heading towards your bent knees, yet your bare—and now damp—mound between your thighs becomes his singular focus as he does so. Leaning closer, he makes a humming sound as he appreciates what he sees when he runs his gaze down your body. 

“You are beautiful, angel. Every inch, every curve, as if you are perfectly carved for me,” he murmurs as he bends down, pressing a kiss on the inner sides of your knees. 

As his fingers continue to travel up your thighs, followed closely by his gentle lips, your hips begin to move on their own, grinding down, searching for friction that can ease the intense pulsing growing between your legs. You dig your heels into the mattress for leverage as your body twists and swivels, while at the same time, anchoring yourself, knowing that he needs you to keep still. 

“Please,” you whisper, almost desperately, when you feel his mouth gliding across your skin. “I’m not sure if I can hold still.” Especially when you can almost predict what he is up to, the stimulations he has been giving you are still affecting you that you feel like you have gone off balance and have yet to recover. 

All it took was to have one taste of his touch, his kiss, and the raw pleasure that he gave you, and your body is already craving for more. 

Tiny spasms arise from your core once more as he kisses a trail down the inside of your thigh, causing your legs to tremble. Jimin smiles against your skin when he notices this. He moves his hands to give your thighs a firm grip when you try to close your legs, pinning his head at the center. 

“Are you asking me to bind your legs as well?” he teases you with a sly grin on his face. Keeping one hand on your thigh to keep it still, he moves his other hand up to your center, finding your heat. 

A moan slips out of you the moment you feel his touch on your damp center. “I…I don’t know,” you barely manage to answer, unable to think clearly with the way his fingers are gently grazing your folds. 

Jimin lets out a soft chuckle and says, “Maybe I should. Just to make sure that you won’t be kicking my face when I get too close. But I’m enjoying the way you are wriggling with every touch. I want to see how you respond to me, so I won’t be restraining your legs just yet.” 

You can barely hear any word he says when his kisses continue to trace a burning trail down one thigh, then going back towards your center. His hands slide to your hips, holding you steady as he dips lower. A brief touch of his lips on your folds draws a gasp from you, and then his tongue slips out, lapping briefly between your slick folds as if he wants to have a taste of you. 

The sensation he brings to your body makes you cry out, your body begins shaking, your hips almost rising against his hold, yet he quickly withdraws and starts kissing down the other thigh. 

“How responsive,” he murmurs. You can hear the tremble in his voice, as if looking at you responding to him is affecting him as well. “So beautiful.” 

He pulls back, and you nearly panic when you feel his weight leaving the bed, only to feel it dip on a different side of the mattress. You bite down your sigh of relief knowing that Jimin is still there, but the shuffling sounds you hear next quickly have your curiosity piqued. 

“I have something that I think you might enjoy,” he says as he slowly returns to you. “But obviously, I won’t be making things easy for you.” 

His gaze flickers with something wicked as he looks down on you. His smile makes you swallow hard, making you wonder what kind of nefarious thoughts he has for you. “Do you remember what was our last count for your punishment, angel?” 

You lick your lips as you try to remember through your hazy thoughts. “Um…e-eight?” 

“That’s good. A bit too close to your limit, doesn’t it? Try to focus and keep that number in mind,” he says. His words sound cryptic, leaving you to wonder what he is about to do next. “Now, try to relax and stay still.” 

Jimin runs one hand down the inside of your thigh, not stopping until he reaches your slick folds, once again touching the center of your heat with his gentle fingers. He slides one finger between your folds, moving it up and down your slit until you can feel your slickness coating him. Then he presses his thumb on your clit, moving it in circles, sending spasms of erotic pleasure through your body and causing you to lift your hips. 

Then, all of a sudden, he stops. 

With a gasp, you open your eyes, just in time to see him shaking his head while clicking his tongue. “What did I say about moving?” 

Whining, you press your hips down to the mattress, trying your best to ignore the pulse fluttering in your core. “I’m sorry,” you moan, “I can’t control myself.” 

Jimin hums softly. “Of course, you can, angel. Just follow my words. So how many do we have now?” 

You bite your lips, holding back a moan as you feel his fingers pressing at your folds again. It is hard to focus when his touch feels maddeningly good, filling your head with blissful haze. 

“N-nine,” you answer with a whisper, biting back the moan threatening to come out of your lips when Jimin presses his finger back into your slit, pressing at your entrance. 

“Good job, angel,” he praises you, before pulling his hand away. “Now, remember to focus on your breath.” 

You feel another pressure at your mound. A different kind this time. Instead of his finger, you feel a firm, cool piece of rubber or silicon pressing at your entrance. 

Is it a vibrator? You wonder as Jimin continues pressing until the toy slides into your pulsing walls. 

Grabbing the silk rope hanging between your wrists and the headboard and pressing your heels into the sheets, you try to find leverage to hold on, stopping your body from moving and wriggling against your restraint. The toy continues to slip deeper inside you, pressing against your sweet spot. You feel a different part of the toy resting against your clit once Jimin stops pressing it, while the rest of the length is perfectly buried inside your throbbing walls. 

Nothing is happening yet. But your body has grown so sensitive after all of his teasing and his wicked foreplays, the muscles inside your slick pussy have been throbbing after your initial release, already needing more, that even the subtle pressure you feel coming from the toy feels almost too much for you to handle. With a flick of a finger, Jimin makes sure that the toy is settling nicely inside you, drawing a tiny moan from your lips while your body shudders in your restraints. 

“Take a deep breath, angel. Slowly,” he gently guides you, his calm voice penetrating through the fog that has been blinding you, making you realise that you have your breath caught in your throat as you relish the peculiar sensation of being filled with a firm toy inside you. 

Taking shallow breaths, you continue until your chest no longer feels constricted. With air in your lungs, everything in you seems to wake up, allowing you to relax, and to feel. “That’s perfect. Good job, angel.” 

His praises keep coming, and your body keeps reacting to it. Your heart always picks up at his encouraging words, and your skin always grows warm. But more importantly, an unusual sensation rises from within, as if each praise he gives only brings your carnal desire back to life instead of soothing it to calm. 

“Are you ready, angel? Remember to control your breath. Remember not to move or lift your hips, just surrender and take everything,” he says, his fingers rubbing at your clit, before gliding up and down your parted folds, feeling the area where you are stretched enough to allow the toy to fill you up. 

“And lastly,” he whispers while leaning down over you as his fingers find the tip of the toy, his lips hovering close to your ear when he says, “Remember that you cannot cum until I tell you to.” 

Before you can make sense of what he is asking you, you feel a click, and the vibrator starts buzzing to life. Gasping at the sudden rush of pleasure rising inside, you begin crying, yelping, twisting against your restraint, all while whining, “Oh, God. Jimin, I…I don’t think I can—” A gasp comes through you when the vibrator keeps pressing at your sweet spot as it continues vibrating against your pulsing muscles. 

Through the haze of your arousal and pleasure, you are somewhat aware of Jimin’s attention. His gaze never strays away from you, as he focuses on your face, watching the slight arch of your body as you respond to the toy’s impact within your hot core, and mostly, to watch as you keep getting pushed towards your limit and fighting to hold it back.  

As he watches your legs twitching, he immediately gives a light touch on the toy, pressing it further inside you, before he begins moving the toy as it vibrates inside you. 

In and out the toy slips through your walls. Each vibration feels like it’s growing harder each time it is pressed into your depth, while its girth keeps pushing against your slick walls. And then he ends it by pushing it as deep as it can inside you, pushing until there is nowhere else for it to go, and nothing else for you to feel except for the maddening pleasure it is giving you.

There is no helping you against what happens next. 

Everything inside you snaps. Your body rocks at the telltale waves of your climax, your hips moving to respond to each pulse of pleasure you feel fluttering inside your core. 

Then his gentle fingers move around the toy, finding your swollen clit and giving it a light pinch. Immediately, you are sent right to the edge. And you are ready for it. Ready to embrace your final release, the orgasm that you feel building inside you, ready to take over. 

But just when you rise from the mattress to let yourself fall over to bliss, the vibrator suddenly stops, leaving you panting and hanging right on the edge. 

You open your eyes when Jimin’s touch disappears from your body. A slick grin on his face when he teases you, “Bad girl. How many does that one make our count, hmmm?” 

Your brain feels like a mush that you fail to understand what he means, still annoyed from being denied of your release, until you realise—

“Ah…it’s t-ten.” 

Tilting his head, Jimin makes a humming sound that feels like a taunt. “A shame, but that’s already at our limit, isn’t it?” 

Slowly, you nod, completely losing your voice this time when the fear of punishment suddenly sinks in. 

“Shall we try again?” Jimin asks you, “Should I give you one last chance to avoid punishment?”  

You lick your lips and force your body to relax. Closing your eyes for a brief moment, you wait until the last spasms of pleasure start to ebb before nodding your head. “Yes, Sir,” you whisper to him as you open your eyes, just in time to see his gaze darkening. 

You feel the click rather than hear it, and the vibrator buzzes back to life, sending you an overwhelming feeling of pleasure so intense you find yourself on the verge of pain. Already, you are panting, but you try to control your breath, holding on as much as you can to not let yourself get thrown over the edge. 

There is no helping it. You can feel it rising; the telltale of your orgasm coiling at the core, building up faster and harder than before. Yet you are ready for it this time. Taking a deep inhale of breath, you focus on breathing, on the tight clutch of your bind as you pull it downwards, and the way your heels are sinking into the silky sheets. 

“You’re doing a good job, angel,” Jimin murmurs as he presses his lips up your inner thigh. He rests one hand on your lower belly, gently pressing down, while you feel his other hand gliding its way up your calve. “Let’s take it another notch and make it fun, shall we?” 

The first thing you feel next is a nudge, as Jimin reaches between your legs and gently touches the vibrator. A resounding click is heard before the vibration intensifies. Its sound fills the room, going just as wild as the tremor it spreads through your body. 

You let out a cry, which quickly turns into a series of moans as Jimin begins to move the toy in and out of your pussy, sliding it between your throbbing walls to incite various new sensations through your body, while pressing the part which meets your clit to have it nudging against your soft flesh, pushing the waves of pleasure to a whole new level. 

“Please, Jimin. I can’t—” 

You can almost hear Jimin’s murmur, yet his voice is drowned under the heightening pulse filling your ears. The vibrator continues to move under Jimin’s guidance for a few more thrusts, then you feel him bending over your center. The next thing you feel is the invading toy settling deep inside your hot walls, the push has it pressing against your sweet spot, and the last restraint holding your hips down vanishes as your body arches up. 

You are close. So close. Incoherent noises continue coming out of you while your body is engulfed in the waves of pleasure. You are already coming so close to your release, and now you are hanging by a thread with need. “I’m—” you gasp, feeling it coming, the rise of your orgasm becoming uncontrollable, and you are powerless to stop it. “I—” 

And then, once again, everything stops. 

Right the second your climax is about to take form, the vibrator shuts down, taking away the rising heat, the intense pulses, breaking everything down while leaving you teetering on the edge. You are panting, your chest heaving as you struggle for air, and not too surprised to find your hips rising from the bed, chasing for that final release with slow, steady rocking. 

But the moment you meet Jimin’s eyes, his lips forming a sly grin, you quickly realise what just happened. 

“That was quite a shame. You were doing so well,” Jimin says with a soothing voice, while his gentle fingers are rubbing your hips as he lowers them back on the bed. “How many does that make our count in total, angel?” 

Still gasping for air, and feeling the hum of your denied orgasm lingering in your body, making your skin grow even tighter than before, you find it hard to find your voice. Much less to answer. Then Jimin pulls the vibrator out of you when a gentle tug, causing you to hiss, both at the pressure you feel as it slides against your clenching walls and for the sudden emptiness which follows after. 

You can feel your muscles throbbing, contracting, searching for purchase, yet finding nothing to grasp onto. 

“Angel? Can you hear me?” 

Swallowing a whine, you exhale a shaky breath and answer, “Yes.” 

“Hmmm,” Jimin hums as he slowly crawls over you, his body hovering on top of yours, which helps you notice the tremors still rushing down your body. “Do you recall how many we have now?” 

You gasp. “Eleven,” you whisper breathlessly as you look into his eyes through the haze of your arousal. 

“Quite a good number, but unfortunate that it means we’ve gotten past ten,” he whispers with a teasing grin. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper back, only to have him leaning down to kiss the tip of your nose. 

You feel his hand rubbing gently on your waist to soothe you. “Like I said, there’s nothing to apologise for, angel. But you do know what that means, don’t you?” 

“Are you going to punish me, Sir?” 

“Maybe,” he murmurs, with his gaze moving lower, taking in his work as your chest rises and falls under the restraint of the silk rope, “perhaps we can use this to test how much you can truly endure pain.” 

His voice sounds almost like a purr as he says this. His eyes linger on your bare breasts for a moment, marvelling at your skin, the puckered mounds, and your hardening nipples. 

“I have something else in mind that I want to try with you,” he says once his gaze finds yours again, “One last thing to try before I make you come. This is something that I very much enjoy, but I need to know if you are down to try it with me.” 

“I think I’d like to learn more,” you answer him before biting your bottom lip. You are feeling too many things at once already, and still curious to see what he has in mind. After going through all his previous treatments—his tests—you decide it would only be right to continue and see through the end. 

“I’m happy to hear that,” he says, sounding proud and relieved, which tells you that you have made the right call.

You wish nothing more but to please him. It is a peculiar feeling, when your reason to come to this club was to seek pleasure, and yet, you find yourself being the one to feel the need to please your beautiful host. 

Just like any other sub would to their Doms. 

Jimin moves away from the bed, though not completely out of view. But he takes away the warmth that he made you feel with it. 

Your body is still on high alert. The remaining spasms of your unbidden bliss are nothing more but a slow, languid pulse in your body, yet they still show no sign of waning anytime soon. You may not be able to see him from this angle, but the quiet lets you know something is about to happen. The clinking sound of a chain moving that you hear as he returns gives you a hint of what comes next. 

Needing something to hold on to, something that can help keep you grounded, you entwine your fingers with one another and clench them.

You try to focus on the sounds again, to steal a glance at what he has prepared for you, but he quickly distracts you with his sinful lips. 

Positioning himself once again between your legs, he runs his hands up the curves of your body, his lips quickly following close behind as he trails a soothing kiss on your skin. Starting from your hips, to your waist, and then he brushes his lips across the underside of your breasts, following the stretched line of the silk rope binding you there, before continuing his way up the mounds. 

“How lovely,” he murmurs, palming your breasts and squeezing them gently. “And so perfect.”

Your chest is filled with warm flutters as Jimin continues cherishing your bare breasts, stroking and pinching them, before he leans down and begins kissing and licking, sucking and biting, taking his time as he gives equal attention to each side. Shocks of pain and pleasure shoot through your body. His eyes flicker to your face, searching for your eyes as he fastens his mouth around one nipple. He flicks his tongue around the flesh and starts sucking on it until the tender bud turns firm. 

Your eyes flutter close at the sensation he is making you feel. And then his mouth leaves your skin, hovering close as he blows softly on the hardened nipple for a brief moment, before a searing pain suddenly consumes you. 

Your hips buck at the rush of pain, rising from the bed, and you scream as the sensation tears through your body, feeling it going straight down to your pussy. Your eyes fly open and you gaze down, noticing the small clamp attached to your nipple, glimmering in gold under the dim lighting falling over your body. 

You bite your tongue when a specific word is threatening to slip out of you. But you force yourself to focus, finding a different word that won’t immediately stop everything, yet would be enough to give you a moment to process this pain. 

“Yellow!” you gasp as you try to find purchase by tugging at your restrained wrists. “Oh my God, yellow. Please.” 

“Sshh, it’s okay, angel. We’ll slow down,” Jimin whispers to you in a soothing voice. His gentle fingers run down your torso, tracing your skin in a way to soothe you, to distract you from the pain. 

Slowly, your cries turn into soft gasps as you try your best to calm down. In reality, you are too overwhelmed with everything; the pain as the clamp bites tightly at your nipple; the shocking pain that is slowly shifting into pleasure as it reaches the depth of your core; and the way your body is humming in response to the myriad of sensations happening all at once. 

Jimin slides his hand down between your legs, distracting you from the pain as his fingers slip between your slick folds. You feel him pressing at your entrance, before the tip of his finger pushes forward, teasing you with a touch, only for him to pull back. With his lips hovering over the clamp, Jimin blows slowly at your skin before he crawls up and brushes his lips under your ear. 

“Breathe, angel. I’ve chosen the smallest clamp and have it on the lightest setting. I have to attach the other one before we continue so you need to relax.” 

You begin to shake your head violently, your arms pulling at the silk binding you to the bed. “No, not yet. Yellow. Please. Just—just one moment.” 

A deep sigh escapes him as Jimin rises above you. Propping himself on his elbow, he looks into your eyes. “Are you sure?” he asks you with a small smile. “Let me try this one. We’ll get it over with and have both of them on, and if you are still at yellow, I will remove the clamps, will that be okay?” 

“Y-yes, I think so,” you whisper as you try to make up your mind.  

“We need to be sure, angel.” 

You bite your lips, feeling conflicted. You can barely breathe. Your nipple is throbbing under the clamp, yet your clit is pulsing with the same cadence. It feels maddeningly good, and at the same time, confusing. 

How could this much pain push you so close to the edge of ecstasy? 

But the more you feel it, the more it is making you curious to see what comes next. So you welcome this new sensation, believing that there is pure ecstasy at the end. 

And because you trust Jimin with everything you have. 

You lift your gaze to Jimin, finding calmness under the heat of his gaze while his hands are moving on your skin in calming circles. The pain is still there, slowly growing dull as Jimin continues to distract you with his touch. And there is also your desire to try everything all at once tonight. To experience everything that he has to offer while you have the chance to delve into it.

With a deep exhale of sigh, you nod your head to Jimin. “Okay, yeah. I’m ready.” 

“What a brave girl,” he whispers, and he immediately slips his finger into your pussy. Your muscles spasm around his finger, welcoming him and the delightful sensation that comes with it. 

The combination of pain and pleasure nearly overwhelms you. You moan softly while pressing your hips on the mattress to hold back from rocking into Jimin’s hand, to do anything to release the intense pressure gathering inside you. Your toes curl against the sheets when Jimin’s firm lips capture your free nipple, sucking and licking and biting, teasing your soft bud until it grows just as firm as the other. 

His fingers join his mouth soon after. Then he starts pinching lightly as his mouth comes off your skin. Seconds later, pain explodes over the sensitive nerve endings as the second clamp clutches on. 

This time, though, the pleasure from the steady thrusts of his fingers, combined with the press of his lips on your skin as he trails kisses around your soft flesh and up towards the column of your throat, are helping to distract you from the pain that you are starting to embrace it. 

Jimin covers you with his body while you are still processing this. Warm, bare skin and firm muscle are pressed against yours, with his upper chest hovering over the clamps. The small, thin chain connecting the clamps together lay between your breasts. It feels icy cold as the chain digs into your skin under his weight. But his warmth feels so soothing, and you wrap your legs around Jimin’s waist to welcome him in an embrace, desperate to feel him. 

All of him. 

He makes no move, other than the hands that are still working to light up your senses, and waits until your eyes are wide open before he speaks. 

“Still yellow?” 

“Nnhn—” 

Jimin’s chest rumbles with his low chuckle. “Talk to me, angel,” he murmurs, bending down to kiss the tip of your nose, then your chin. “Are you still against the clamp?” 

You try to wiggle beneath him, still feeling his fingers buried between your legs, still moving in circles between your folds, between pressing at your entrance and moving around the clit. The pleasure it brings is the only thing your brain can process for now, while the pain seems suppressed, with a constant feeling of a dull ache throbbing with each pulse of your blood rising under his touch. 

“The pain,” you whisper with a gasp, “It’s grown a bit dull.” 

“Hmmm, does that mean it’s back to green?” 

“Yes. I—” Another gasp slips out of you when his fingers return, sliding back into your pussy. Your upper body arches in response and the shot of pleasure snaps the pain on your breasts back in place, which only makes the throbbing in your core intensify. “Oh, I feel weird.” 

“It’s only natural, and I’m helping to distract you from the pain, which should help get your mind away from the pain. Don’t you think this helps?” he asks as he pushes his fingers deeper inside you. 

“Mmmh—” you moan, unable to form words. “Yes, it does.” You let out a sigh when he presses against the right spots. “It feels good.” 

He makes a soft hum. “I bet it does. But we can’t let you have it all just yet, can we?” Jimin teases you with a small grin, “We haven’t gone through your punishments yet.” 

Hearing this has you widening your eyes. “But I thought—” 

“That the clamps are your punishment?” he asks you with a playful chuckle. “No, angel. This is a part of the play. It’s meant to show you how closely linked together pain and pleasure truly are, and that pain can sometimes show you the immense pleasure that can come with it.” 

Your mouth falls open for a brief moment, surprised, but you can quickly understand what he meant when you can feel it; the throbbing pleasure inside your legs that comes in tune with the pulsing pain. 

“Oh. I see.” 

Jimin’s smile widens. “Shall we continue?” 

Licking your lips, you hold Jimin’s gaze as you nod your head. “Yes, please.” 

“We counted until eleven, was it? What do you say about one spanking of that lovely bottom to each violation you made?” 

Your breath hitches, but a whisper still manages to slip out of your lips. “Yes, Sir.” 

Pulling back a few inches away from you, Jimin frees himself from your legs and pulls his fingers out of your heat. You watch him licking his fingers, humming at your taste, before he begins to run his hands down your body. Avoiding your tense breasts and the clamps attached to the peaks, he trails down your waist with his fingers, then your hips, before pulling back his hand as he continues to gently feel your thighs, still bent and trembling at the knees. 

“This time, I really do think it would be better to bind your legs. Ready?” Jimin asks you as he slowly pushes the back of your thighs, coaxing you to lift your legs further upward. 

You hold back the urge to fight against it, choosing to watch what he is about to do next as he presses your folded legs almost to your chest with one hand and uses the other to reach and lift the tail end of the silk rope binding you to the bed. 

You watch his fingers closely as they work on the rope, and Jimin, realising that you are watching him cautiously, immediately begins to explain, “I’m not going to tie you up too tightly, just getting your pretty legs out of the way.” 

His reassurance helps release all the tension in your body. You try to relax against the pillows, just as much as your bind allows you to, before whispering, “Okay.” 

Jimin presses your thighs down to keep your legs folded. With gentle hands, Jimin works the silk rope around your legs. He starts by winding one end of the rope around your left thigh, going under and around your folded knee until your leg is tethered to your upper body with your feet dangling over you. He continues to do the same to your right leg, the fabric holding it up the same way as the other. 

This should feel awkward, especially when you are made to settle in an odd angle such as this. Yet as you follow his words, making sure to loosen up your muscles instead of straining them and soon find that the bind only makes you feel snug and safe as it settles on your skin. 

And the way Jimin works the rope around your body is mesmerising to watch. A part of you wishes that you could watch everything from a different angle so you could appreciate his work, while another part of you is beginning to feel the daunting realisation of your vulnerability now with both your arms and legs bound. 

With your feet no longer pressing against the mattress, you have lost the leverage you had to retain any semblance of control. Right now, you feel like you are floating, with many different sensations flowing through your body that you can feel everything all at once; the dull ache spreading through your breasts, the constant pulse building from your now exposed center, and the way his light fingers are hitting every nerve ending in your body once he is done, as he runs his hands down your legs, your thighs, your hips, before stopping there. 

“You are a marvellous sight to look at, angel,” Jimin murmurs softly as he gently runs his palms down your thighs. “I wish I could take a picture of you right now so I can keep this moment in my memory forever.” 

Your breath hitches. His praise tastes like honey, while his words are like a spell sending you floating higher in bliss. So high, that you barely notice the move of his fingers as he secures your ankles with the rest of the silk that is wrapped around your upper thighs. Once your legs are perfectly folded above you, spread wide enough for him to slip between them but not enough to make you feel uncomfortable to the point of pain, his work is complete. 

“Perfect,” he says as he sits back, marvelling at his work. Marvelling at you. “Absolutely perfect.” 

His fingers trail down your inner thigh. You are not ticklish by any means, but his light touch keeps sending tremors all through your body that you cannot control. At the same time, the delicious ache in your arms and the helpless feeling of not being able to move seem to give you a new thrill, and you become hyperaware of the way his fingers dance on your skin, how his palms are grazing gently down the curves of your hips. 

You pull at the silk that binds your hands as he traces his palms down your bottom cheeks, now lifted slightly from the bed with the way your body is folded. He rubs his palms gently on your skin for a moment, then he looks up, finding your eyes. Holding his gaze on yours, he makes it so you cannot look away by giving you a sweet smile, keeping your attention locked on him as he pulls one hand back and lands it back on your skin with a hard slap.

A gasp is drawn out of you when you feel the sting. Tears fill your eyes, yet left with no chance to spill when Jimin immediately rubs his palm against the tender skin, soothing the pain away. “Make sure to keep count, angel. How many was that?” 

“Hmmm,” your voice fades to a moan as the dull ache once again lights up the pulsing desire between your legs, “O-one, Sir.” 

“And how many are we supposed to have?” 

With a low groan, you answer faintly, “Eleven, Sir.” 

“Good girl,” he says, as he continues rubbing his palm on your skin, taking the pain away. “Now keep counting. Make sure I can hear your voice so I won’t make a mistake and give you more than what I’m supposed to.” 

Fear grips your chest at the thought of Jimin adding more spanking as punishment, to add more pain, so you quickly nod your head, just in time for his hand to land on the other cheek for another hard slap. “Oh, God—” you gasp, before mustering some will to call out, “T-two.” 

Again, Jimin rubs his palm on the stinging pain, soothing it until it becomes dull. Then, while you are getting distracted by his touch, his other hand returns, slapping the underside of your thigh. “Three—” you call out with a gasp, which quickly turns to a small moan when he rubs the pain away. 

“You’re doing good, angel,” he whispers, and you can almost hear the smile in his voice when your body trembles at how close to your center his fingers are each time he rubs across your skin. 

Another slap lands on the other thigh, right at the skin where your plump bottom meets your thigh. Your hips twitch at the sting, and you are too powerless to stop it. Neither are you capable of stopping the heat oozing from your pussy as the pain from his punishment throbs, sending a rapid pulse right to your core. 

“Four,” you cry out, almost breathlessly, before you sigh at the soothing touch that follows next. 

He repeats the pattern for the next couple of blows, switching from one side to the other, hitting the tender skin of your bottom, before he then moves to the apex of your thighs, always closing in towards your pulsing pussy. And never once do you fail to count his strikes. 

“Five…six…seven…” 

The sounds of his palm slapping on your skin bounce against the walls, always followed by the sounds of cries, gasps, and moans when his next touches soothe the burning pain on your skin into dull aches. 

“Eight…Nine…” 

At this point, your voice has become so hoarse, both from crying and gasping so much, that the sound of your counts keeps fading into whispers. You can barely feel the pain from his strikes, when something else has risen stronger in its place. Jimin lays another strike. The sound rings in your head, but instead of crying in pain, you simply let out a strangled moan. 

“Ten,” you count with a sigh, amazed at how the throbbing on your punished skin seems to melt together with the dull ache on your breasts. 

Jimin smiles, yet says nothing. Not even to warn you before a hard slap lands at your center, right at your slick folds. Your body twitches with the sharp pain, yet pleasure begins scorching through your body soon after. The overwhelming mixture of pain and pleasure goes straight into the deepest part of your pussy that you nearly climax right there and then.

Jimin slips a finger inside you, soothing the shock from his touch with gentle strokes. In and out he moves his finger, and you buck in his grip to feel more. To gain more. Only to have his voice snapping you back from the blissful fog. 

“How many was that, angel?” 

“Eleven,” you find yourself crying, although your voice suspiciously sounds like a mewl. “That’s eleven, Sir.” 

You let out another, louder moan as Jimin sips his finger out of you and slides his hands underneath your body, cupping your bare and tender bottom and holding you firmly over the mattress. “Open your eyes for me. Let me look at you,” Jimin says, making you realise too late that you have your eyes closed. 

There is a smile on his face when you slowly open your eyes. His own eyes light up with pride. 

“You took your punishment like a good girl,” he gently says. His praise makes you feel warm inside, your heart swelling with pure joy which you cannot possibly explain. Your body is humming with need, intensified by the gentle touch he gives on your tender skin. “I surmise you deserve a reward for doing such a good job, don’t you think?” 

“Mmmm, yes. Yes, Sir. Please,” you whine and beg while your body rocks into his palms, wishing that you could go further, closer to his hot body, to be able to feel his desire pressing on your body. 

The need to feel him draws a soft mewl from your lips when you feel Jimin leaning over you, his body positioned between your spread thighs, your bound legs becoming the only things left keeping him from completely covering your body with his. 

“I want to see you come. To feel you when you succumb to pleasure,” he murmurs, his voice sounding close, and you can feel his warm breath against your lips when he speaks, “How should I do it, I wonder?” 

Your eyes flicker to his lips just as he does the same to yours. Licking your lips, you hold back your breath. Realising that Jimin is close enough to kiss, you anticipate him claiming your lips the same way he has been claiming your body. You take a sharp inhale of breath when he leans closer, so close you can almost feel his lips touching yours. 

And then you feel it, his lips brushing against yours. A gentle, barely-there graze. You pull at your restraint to arch upward, meeting him for that kiss. Only for him to suddenly stop.

Coming still, Jimin jerks his head back and shakes it, as if he hadn’t been conscious in his leaning into kissing your lips, and the brief touch of your lips on his immediately snaps him out of it. But he doesn’t pull his hand away from the soft, tender skin of your hips. His fingers glide upward, slowly, until you feel them gliding over your slit. 

A soft moan slips from your lips, your eyes staying on his lips, still longing to taste him even when he is giving you pleasure with his hand to keep your mind off of it. 

“Eyes on me, angel,” he commands and you obey without thinking, still lost under his spell to do everything that he desires. 

He holds your gaze as he screws one finger into you. It immediately draws a whimper from your lips. Not out of pain, but out of sheer need. 

You writhe against the bind holding your wrists together, resisting the urge to grind down and take his finger deeper. Biting your tongue, you focus on the delightful way he is filling you, touching you, teasing you by pushing you close to the edge yet slowing down before you can get there. 

Jimin leans his head down until you are connected temple to temple and whispers softly, “Are you okay, angel? You’ve been rather quiet.” 

Something about him checking on you brings up the flutterings in your belly that have nothing to do with the raw desire you are feeling from his touch. 

Everything about him seems to be in contrast with one another. His voice that doesn’t always reflect in his touches, when one becomes gentle while he is firm with the other. Also with his caring way in making sure that you are completely in this moment while he makes you burn from the inside out. And the effect is immediate, as you feel that heat rippling deeply inside you, pushing forward to have it released. 

“Yeah,” you breathe out, and he presses his thumb roughly on your clit, once again stealing your words. 

Jimin tilts his head and laughs softly. “Yeah—what?” 

Swallowing hard, you struggle to find your voice. “Yes, I’m okay,” you answer with a soft whimper, “Sir.” 

A smile grows on his face. “That’s good to hear.” He shifts and wedges a second finger inside you. 

He begins moving them in and out, curling them like scissors, gliding back and forth between your pulsing walls. You buck your hips, nearly rising from the bed as you rock together with his thrusts. 

“Oh, God,” you moan softly as the pleasure rocks violently through your body. “Please, I need to come!” 

“Not yet, angel,” he nearly barks his command with how firm his tone of voice sounds to you. 

The chain between your breasts is lifted, and he pulls at it just enough to give pressure against your sensitive nipples. Whatever force connected the ache on your nipples to the heat in your pussy shatters you from the inside out. You feel like you are hanging by a thread, your blood flowing hot through every part of your body, pushing against the clamps, the bind, and the muscles contracting in your pussy. 

“Come now, angel,” Jimin commands firmly. With one more tug on the chain, he pulls until the clamps detach themselves from your hard nipples, and that’s when you come apart. 

Jimin’s name comes out of your lips in your cry of pleasure. Your body strains against the silk that holds you securely as you come in a blinding climax. 

For that moment, you are lost. You are no longer in the room with various instruments meant to fulfil anyone’s darkest fantasies. You are no longer bound to the bed, to yourself, and instead floating in a dark space that makes you think you are suspended way above the bed, your silk bonds connected not to the bars on the bed’s headrest, but to the ceiling. 

It takes a few moments before your mind begins to clear, and you find yourself plunging back down to the room before you get to feel everything again; the bind wrapped all over your body, the bed, and Jimin’s warmth. 

But you are still high in bliss, still drowned in the waves of your pleasure that you aren’t conscious enough of the movement happening nearby. Needing to pull you back to the present, Jimin rubs your arms, then brushes his lips gently on the tip of your nose, your chin, and then your face, while crooning, “______, come back to me.” 

His voice fades in and out, drowned by the sound of your pulsing blood. But his touch draws you out of your fog until you slowly open your eyes. “Are you with me, angel?” 

It takes a moment for him to succeed in bringing you back completely, with his kisses pulling you back to him while making you wish even harder that he would kiss your lips before he continues.

“Y-yes, I’m here,” you whisper, still breathless. Your chest is tight with how rapidly your heart is beating in your chest. “What”—a gasp slips out of you—”God, what was that?” 

“That was what we call being in a headspace. It’s common to happen once a sub surrenders completely and allows the pleasure to take over.” 

Blinking your eyes rapidly, you recall reading such a thing during your research. You never knew that it would be possible for you to feel anything like it. But now that you’ve experienced something so intense, you cannot imagine ever thinking that anything else would ever be enough. 

Jimin positions himself between your spread legs, his hips resting against your center and his lips hovering on top of yours, once again promising you the kiss that never comes. 

“You responded so well to the clamps, beautiful. So well,” he murmurs against your lips, almost trembling with excitement. “There is so much I want to show and introduce you to, but so little time.” He continues to murmur as he moves to kiss the tears that you don’t realise falling down your cheeks. “Do you want more?” 

Your breath gets caught in your throat when you feel his desire poking against your folds, letting you know that he has yet to gain his fill. “Y-yes. But I don’t think I can.” 

“Will you let me try?” Jimin carefully asks you as he caresses your shoulders, his fingers finding the strands of your hair that have grown messy and tangled. 

Drained, yet still feeling the desire to feel him inside you, you give him a vague sound of agreement as you nod. With his fingers, Jimin tugs at the silk binding your legs, releasing them so he can lower them back to the bed. He spreads your knees, his gentle palms pressing on your inner thighs to keep you spread open for him. Still riding the high of your orgasm, your body jerks as he slips a finger inside of you. 

A soft mewl escapes you as you feel the spasms inside your pussy once again, pushing around his digit this time as he slides in deeper. You almost cry yellow, but then he leans down, and finally, begins pressing his lips on yours to wipe away any apprehension you feel about going forward. 

His lips are gentle, and his kiss melts you from the inside and out, drowning the sounds you are making as the kiss draws a different kind of sensation out of your body. With one hand moving in and out of your hot walls, and the other holding you firmly at your hip, you feel like you are going to explode for another reason but the intense pleasure he has promised to give. 

“More,” you breathe against his lips when he releases you from the kiss, his fingers leaving your heat to let you feel your hot walls clenching into nothing. “I need you. Please.” 

“I’m here,” he simply whispers. And then his mouth is on yours once again, with his hand tangled in your hair. His body moulds into you as he covers you with his warmth, his hard cock pressing in the notch between your legs. 

“Is this what you want?” The head of his cock prods your entrance and you let out a mewl, unable to hold back any sound as the need to have him inside you becomes so intense.

“Yes, Sir,” you gasp when he rocks his hips and applies a little more pressure.

“Does that feel good, baby?” He pushes some strands of stray hair away from your eyes, then gazes down with an intensity in his eyes which heats you up from within.

Your mouth falls open as he gently eases his way inside, parting you with his thickness. “Yes,” you manage to answer breathlessly. 

“Good. Now take a deep breath, and remember not to cum until I tell you to,” he murmurs, taking your hips with both hands and tipping you upwards to the right angle. Perfect enough to take him without straining you from your restraint too much. 

Then, with nothing more but the sound of his soft moan, Jimin drives in deep. So deep that you can barely catch your breath as he fills you. As he moves, he starts kissing you again, his tongue fucking your mouth with the same rhythm as his thick cock.

With a gasp, you welcome the pleasure that comes, while almost wishing that you have some free rein to move on your own instead of being under his control. 

Because you cannot get enough. 

You nip his lips, kissing back with all you’ve got, even to the knowledge that he is for sure going to punish you later for trying to top his dominance. But you need this like you need air to breathe. Like you need water to drink. So you drink him as a whole by kissing him back just as roughly. Passionately. Until a sound comes from his throat and his hips buck forward to push roughly into you. 

Your eyes roll back with every thrust. You are half gone with delirium. Almost to a point where you can barely remember your name. 

Jimin’s lids droop as he owns his pleasure, embracing it while giving it to you. His fingers tighten to a bruising strength around your hips as he goes faster, pumping harder, rocking every inch of your being while shaking the whole bed with the pace of his fucking. 

He pulls you up until your body is half lifted from the bed, and keeps thrusting into you, holding your hips and sinking so deep you start feeling him everywhere.  

He sweeps you against him as he claims your mouth with a kiss so fierce it intensifies the heat in your body, nearly sending you over the edge before you are allowed to. 

But it really shouldn’t be hard for Jimin to send you to another climax in the first place. Your body has grown overly sensitive that each thrust he gives you keeps sending you straight towards the edge. 

So you do your best to hold on. To follow his command. To hold back before he gives you permission to release it. Until it finally comes. 

But it never comes. 

Instead, he holds back, coming to a pause as he pulls your body to his chest. You can feel that he has yet to find release even while he keeps giving you pleasure, and from the tremble you feel coming out of his chest, you know that he needs it. But instead of chasing it, he pulls out of you and flips you over. Making you face the headboard as he pulls your hips back and enters you from behind. 

In this position, he drives even deeper. His hips snap and thrust, throwing you forward with his force. The bind around your hands is now twisted and tightens fiercely around your wrists. You use it to pull yourself and brace your arms forward, holding onto the headrest to keep from flying into the wall. His hold on your waist might be strong, but the force of his thrusts against your body while you are bound and helpless makes you feel like you are flying. 

As if your body is defying gravity. 

“Jimin—” His name slips from your lips with a gasp. The words you wish to say to him hang at the tip of your tongue, yet your mind is too muddled to figure out what you want to say to him. Because it feels too much; the pleasure, the intense way he is claiming your body. But at the same time, you wish to beg him to let you find your release. To have more.

“More…” You start begging him, “Harder.” 

Jimin grips one side of your hips and grabs a fistful of your hair as he slams into you. The moan that comes out of your mouth is sharp and sudden, drawn by the feeling of him filling you with his hard length. 

You feel him leaning down against your back, his lips brushing at your ear with rushed breaths coming out of him. The hand that settles on your hip moves lower, finding your center before the tips of his fingers find your swollen clit. The touch is brief, yet it sends sparks of lightning under your eyelids when the pleasure peaks. 

“Is this what you need, angel?” Jimin asks you between his thrusts without missing his steady rhythm. 

“Yes,” you cry out, “Yes, Sir!” 

Seeing—and feeling— the way your body welcomes him, Jimin repeats the action and presses against your clit, rubbing it in circles. You shudder as he fills you, as his thrusts continue relentlessly, and the satisfaction he brings sends your body almost to its limit. He gives four quick pumps, then another hard, deep one, pushing at the right spots, and you feel the telltale of your orgasm teasing at the seam.

Jimin releases your hair and palms your hips to drill deeper, his hips keep smacking against your bottom as he pumps in and out. 

You hang your head and let out a whimper. The need to savour this raw pleasure has grown so strong, but your body has gone through multiple climaxes that you are not sure if you can last much longer. 

The pleasure grows intense, making you dizzy with lust, with raw desire. It comes with a shudder that Jimin relishes as he reaches down, pressing his thumb at your rear opening until you feel him slipping in. A sharp cry slips out of your throat, to the point that you are nearly choking when each firm thrust he gives keeps pushing the air out of your chest. 

“Not yet,” he warns with a growl when he feels the spasm of your climax building up. 

“Please. Oh God, please, Jimin,” you find yourself begging, though your mind is muddled with the need for release that you are not even completely aware of the words that keep shamelessly spilling out of your lips with your desperate plea. “Please, more. Harder. Please, Sir. Oh, God—I need to come.” 

Jimin’s thrusts grow more erratic, yet he is still going hard. “Not yet, angel,” he says with a strained voice, almost as if he is speaking with his jaw clenched tight. 

He slams into you, hard, nearly pushing you forward. You are not sure if you can keep your arms up for much longer. The numbness keeps growing as your body continues getting ravished. He seems to notice you losing balance, because he pulls his hand away from your rear and smoothly wraps one strong arm around your waist to help hold you up instead of falling face-first into the pillows. This brings him closer to you, his bare chest pressing to your back, and the thrusts feel deeper even without as much force. 

It feels so good, it makes you even more delirious. You feel as if you are soaring, as the rightness of being taken completely by him brings you to a new level of pleasure. You have already found how easy it is to be vulnerable with him, to let down your barriers and let him lead, so you can easily give your pleasure to him. 

A curse slips out of his lips as his grip on you tightens further. His breath becomes heavier, you can hear and feel it with each in and out. You can feel his thighs shaking against yours, showing you that you are not the only one hanging on the edge of release. 

He lets out a deep groan and thrusts deeply, moving in and out, in and up, almost lifting you from the bed, your knees rising with the force of his lovemaking. He pulls you up and back against his chest as he straightens back up and taps your clit with his fingers in rapid succession. 

And this almost does you in. With a gasp, you cry out to him, “N-no, I can’t—I can’t hold on.” 

To your relief, Jimin whispers to your ear, “Ready to come, angel?” 

He moves his hand up from your waist to cup your breast. His fingers find your nipple and pinch, bringing back the pain which the clamps had ignited on your skin, while he presses hard against your clit to set you off. 

You arch at the mix of pain and pleasure. Thrusting your breasts onto his hand, a hoarse cry escapes your lips. “J-jimin,” you call his name with a gasp. 

“Yes,” he murmurs. “Take it, angel. Take it all.” 

He groans as he bites out his command, “Let yourself go, angel. Let me feel you come around my cock.” 

With his words, you let go. 

You let out another cry as your inner muscles begin spasming intensely with the wave of your orgasm. You nearly flip backwards, your head hitting his shoulder as your body convulses in your climax. Your pussy clamps down on his cock, squeezing and pulsing around his thick length. 

“That’s it, angel,” Jimin murmurs in your ear. “Your pussy feels so good around me.” 

He nuzzles your neck, pressing kisses there. Beyond the blissful fog, and the stars filling your eyelids, you can still feel him; rocking gently from behind you, prolonging the waves of pleasure rushing through your body while he waits for you to ride out your high. 

His cock is still rock hard inside you, rubbing your insides in a delicate manner which feels intoxicating, thrilling, and overwhelming at the same time. 

“How are you, angel? Still with me?” he whispers to you while you are still riding your high, still rocking your hips against his, savouring the delectable hum of your orgasm with him buried inside you. He keeps giving you slow, languid thrusts while he waits for your response. 

“Hmmm—yes…” 

Jimin lets out a chuckle as he leans down, taking your ear between his teeth for a light bite. “You don’t think we’re done yet, do you?” 

Your hips jerk when he pushes deeper into your tight walls, his hard cock pressing into your heat. “But it’s too much,” you gasp, your body growing rigid with how sensitive you have become. 

“Just one more, angel. Give me one more,” Jimin murmurs against your skin as he begins rocking his hips again, stirring back the pleasure that has yet to come down completely, dulling the ache and the soreness when your body easily complies, quickly adjusting to this new high. “You can do it. I know you can.” 

It feels delicious. Delectable. Too much and not enough at once. You are flying so flipping high, drunk in pleasure, drunk on him, on every drop of need and desire that he has somehow woken in your body and soul. 

“Fuck, yes. Arch that back for me, angel.” He drags a palm down your spine and lays a light slap on the side of your bottom cheek. 

And you arch for him, doing it just as he asks of you. 

His breath grows heavy. His movements start getting jerky, and a bit too rough. Not for your pussy, as the pulse of desire only seems to be getting stronger, but for your back and shoulders, your body getting drained and used up from all the strenuous movements. 

Before you can say anything about it, Jimin shifts, leaning forward and laying his torso over your back. He reaches forward, bracing one hand on the bars right next to where your hand is keeping a tight grip to hold on. His other hand moves back to your breast, pinching your nipple, rolling it between his fingers and tugging just like he did with the other. 

Moans after moans keep slipping out of you. He sees this as a sign that you are high in pleasure instead of pain, so he strokes his hand down the plane of your stomach and finds your clit again. 

A shudder rocks through your body, and he bites your ear right before that shudder turns into something more. “Not until I tell you, angel.” 

With a gasp, everything stops. You fall quiet and listen. You have learned to wait, to follow his pace as he comes almost to a complete pause to let the spasms of your climax fade. 

“Do you understand? You don’t come until I say you do.” 

His voice in your ear seems deeper, and it flips some kind of switch in you. Your pussy contracts, but not enough to push you over to the edge. Your toes are curling beneath you, feeling the anticipation strengthening the pleasure that keeps building, and building. 

Jimin pulls you back and suddenly flips you over. You are now facing him, with your back down on the bed, yet your hips are lifted until they are resting over his thighs as he enters you again. 

“I want to look at your face when you come for one last time,” he says, as he curls his hands around the tops of your thighs, wrapping them around to grip your ass and pulling you back and forth over his cock. 

You find yourself back in a state of delirium, feeling ecstatic with the way he is handling you with his skilled hands. You know better than to fight it, realising that this is what you need. So you simply submit to the sensations building inside you, letting go of any inhibitions left in you so you can take everything that Jimin is giving you. 

“That’s it. Look at me, baby. Just like that.”

You are feeling euphoric with intense pleasure, but it doesn’t stop you from basking in the heat of his gaze. He moves his fingers around your clit in circles, then switches, as he slides his hand under your ass and parts your cheeks. When you feel him tapping your pucker rim with a finger, you are completely lost. 

“Now, angel. Come for me.” 

The guttural tone of his voice sounds just as urgent as the desire peaking through your body. For the last time, you shatter completely, your hips snapping up and down as the release uncoils faster than a whip snapping in the wind. 

The wave of your orgasm hits you intensely, stronger and bigger than the last. You let out a scream, the sound coming louder as he squeezes your nipples, hard, bringing back the same pain that he caused you with the clamps, only with his hands, all while he keeps pushing and rubbing his cock hard inside you. 

While you shatter in pieces in your release, Jimin puts you back together when you feel him pulsing inside you. With a strangled gasp and a rough groan, Jimin succumbs to his release. You feel his warmth filling you up, some drops of his cum escaping with each slow thrust he is giving you before he finally comes to a complete halt. 

“Marvellous,” Jimin murmurs, a smile playing at the corner of his lips as he tries to catch his breath. “You are marvellous, angel. Way better than I could ever imagine.” 

Then his lips find yours again, taking you in a deep, lingering kiss. It makes you forget for a moment where you are, and that you are still bound to the bed—to him—when the heat in your body sizzles to warm. Right at that moment, as your tongue dances against his, you finally understand the reason why Jimin had tried his best to avoid kissing your lips at the beginning of your playtime.

The kiss feels sensual, too intimate, that you melt into him for a reason which has nothing to do with the intense play he had just introduced you to. 

It feels too intimate for a kiss to be shared in a place like this. 

And yet you do nothing to stop it. Instead, you let him pull you tighter into his chest as he kisses you deeper, until the bind, the club, and everything else around you cease to matter. 

You feel drowsy, tired and spent, yet filled with content, that you can feel yourself slowly falling asleep. 

It doesn’t help that Jimin’s soothing touch keeps making your body feel more lax, that you wish for nothing more than to lie back down on the bed. Sweats and other essences left behind on those fancy silk sheets from your playtime be damn. 

But you also have no wish to pull away from his warmth that feels so comforting, enveloping you in a way that makes you want to curl up and doze off until you are ready to step away from this invisible bubble of yours. 

Right now, you just want to savour this moment. Because this…

This is why you keep coming back, searching for such pleasure by opening yourself up to your darkest desire. 

It’s the calm that comes after the heated moment that you just shared with a partner who desired the same thing you did by coming to this place. A place where your reality no longer matters. The contentment and peacefulness that come over you once the heat slowly subsides. 

This is when your mind clears. When your mind can rationalise everything that has been going on in your life without your anxiety blinding you. When you can stop feeling as if you have no control over your life. 

Submitting control to someone else’s hands is never meant to make you feel powerless. It’s always meant to be the opposite, as even in complete submission, when you are met with the right Dom as your partner, you are the one to hold the control. And there is nothing more fulfilling than finding pleasure at the end as your reward. To feel even more powerful when you can finally take back your control when your playtime is over. 

That was the very reason why you requested to have this kind of treatment for this session. What started as a deep curiosity about the dynamic has grown into a desire which you secretly harboured to experience. And after weeks of having your life spiralling out of control, you saw this moment as a chance to test the theories you’ve learned about submitting to pleasure. 

You never expected to find yourself reaching something as divine as being in a headspace, where everything felt so serene that you simply forgot everything. And you certainly didn’t expect to also experience something like this; the gentle, caring touch that comes afterward as Jimin eases you back into reality. 

To be taken care of and spoiled and praised after you allow yourself to be taken over by lust. 

Taking a deep breath, the soft floral scent of freesia mixed with a sweet, fruity fragrance fills your chest. It makes you smile as you breathe it in. 

When you first entered the room, the air was thick with rich, aromatic trails of burning incense. The typical scents that have always been spread within the exclusive rooms in the club to set the perfect ambience for the guests as they enjoy their night in this place. This room, specifically, was filled with earthy sandalwood, mingling with the sweet floral touch of jasmine and fresh lemongrass. 

Merely moments ago, those delicate scents were replaced by the heady scents of sex and sweat, which had grown so thick after your intense playtime with Jimin. The scents that are still present in your skin, albeit faintly, under the scent of body wash clinging to your skin after the warm bath that Jimin had given you once he was done with you. 

As you lean into Jimin’s chest and the comforting touch of his fingers, you can still feel everything; the warm water from the bath which soothed your sore muscles; the calming scent of the soap which Jimin lathered on your body; and the gentle way Jimin took care of you through it all. 

Just like how he gave you light massages to ease the numbing ache on your arms and wrists after releasing you from the ropes, he is still rubbing your skin, easing the soreness left behind from the bondage. 

“I think,” you hum softly the moment you feel his lips pressing on your wrist, “If you keep rubbing and kissing my skin like this, I might just fall asleep right here.” 

This causes Jimin to laugh. His voice is velvety and soft that it feels like a warm blanket that makes you want to sink further into his embrace. 

As you move in his lap, the front of your robe falls just enough to expose parts of your breasts once again, and you make no move to fix it. It doesn’t do much to steal away the warmth you feel in your body. Not when his hands are doing just enough to make up for it. 

Jimin’s gaze follows the fallen fabric, and a distaste look appears through his eyes. Not at the sight of skin, but at the way the robe seems to be blocking his view. Even if he was the one who had dressed you in the robe once he was done cleaning you up in the bath. 

Clinging to his robe that is now secured in place, you look up to tease him, “Are you thinking about stripping me down again, Sir?” 

With a light chuckle, Jimin shakes his head. “I wish I could, angel. But you’ve given me more than enough already. I’m not sure you’ll be able to give more.” 

His lips are soft as they move slowly against yours, coaxing your lips open and delving inside to taste you for one last time. His hands grip your hips and wind their way up to your waist, doing it slowly, as if you are just as delicate as the silky robe now covering your skin. 

“Everything okay, angel?” Jimin’s voice is soft, just enough to push through the newly blissful fog rising in your head. The rumbling in his chest nearly sounds like a purr, and you find yourself wanting so badly to lean deeper into it. 

“Yes,” you answer with a content sigh. “Everything’s just marvellous.” 

Jimin lets out a soft hum as he kisses the top of your head. “I couldn’t agree more.” He leans back and tilts your chin up until you are looking up at him. “This was much better than I ever could imagine. Thank you for giving me this opportunity,” he says while looking deep into your eyes, and you can almost swear you feel the insides of your chest turning into jelly. 

“I should be the one to thank you.” 

The smile on his face softens. “It’s quite unfortunate, but I suppose this marks the end of our playtime.” 

“Bummer,” you tease him with a playful pout, though your comment doesn’t have a bite or bitterness to it, even if you do feel the disappointment of knowing that your time is up. 

Kissing your pouting lips, Jimin takes your hand and helps you rise to your feet. He waits until you are no longer swaying before he lets you go, but not before guiding you towards your door. 

“Do you need my help?” he offers one last time right as you reach out to press the button to open the door. Still feeling reluctant to do so, you hold back as much as you can, for as long as you are allowed to, just to stay like this with him for a bit longer. 

Looking at his face again, knowing well enough that the next time you meet him, there will be a mask shielding his beautiful face from view, you commit every detail of him in your memory.

“No, I think I’ll manage,” you answer him once you feel like you have enough control to tame the buzzing in your body.  

Jimin looks at you with the same gaze he had during playtime, before he nods, and that look fades. When he opens his eyes again, he straightens himself up the way he always does when he is acting as the host for the club, already shedding his master’s role to put on his original role as your host, even without his suit on.  

“The car for your ride home will be waiting for you downstairs once you are ready to leave,” he gently says, though with the familiar tone that he uses when he is setting up your arrangement with the club. It stings a little to hear it, yet it also helps you to slowly prepare yourself to return to the real world. 

“Until we see again,” Jimin adds, and you immediately stop him before he can turn away.  

“This special offer—” you hesitantly ask, “Is it a one-time thing?” 

Jimin doesn’t answer you right away. But there is a glint in his eyes which seems to speak a thousand words before he speaks. It is the same look that he gave you when he made the offer to be your master. “Whenever you are ready to set up your next appointment, let your host know that you are requesting for your preceding master.” 

A flutter of a smile grows on your face. “I’ll make sure to remember.” 

He watches you press the button at your door to open it, yet you remain in your position to watch him go as Jimin turns away to the other side of the room. Without taking another glance over his shoulder, Jimin presses the button to open the door to his side of the wall and steps out of the bedroom. 

And then he is gone. 

— Jimin— 

“I heard that you recently made use of the Bondage Room again. Is that true?” 

The day is still quite early for Club La Rouge to be filled with its regular patrons. But the VIP lounge already has some guests unwinding to end the day. Some with drinks in their hands, some enjoying imported cigars while sharing light conversations with their peers and sponsors, while others are simply here to fill their time of leisure before diving into the club’s evening bustle. 

Sitting in front of Jimin is not just a regular VIP guest of the club. 

Kim Seokjin is one of the owners of Club La Rouge and the head representative who deals with the club’s activities and patrons directly. He is also Jimin’s employer. The same person who first brought Jimin to be a part of the club years ago. 

Jimin had already expected that at least one of the owners would catch wind about him entering the special Play Room not as a host, but as a willing participant. He should have expected that person to be Seokjin, who is always so strict in keeping up with all the happenings in the club, whether it is something that involves the club members, his co-owners, or his favoured staff. 

“Yes, I have,” Jimin admits as he sits back on his loveseat, meeting Seokjin’s eyes. “I’m surprised it took you this long to bring this up. It’s been a few weeks since it happened, after all.” 

Seokjin gives him a smile in return. “You and I both have been quite busy with the new development for the club, so I haven’t thought about bringing it up,” he admits after placing his cup of tea down on the table between them. “How did it feel to be back into it again? I know that you haven’t been active in the BDSM club scenes for a while. I haven’t heard of you coming to other clubs to find a sub or spend any night with the club’s escort for a play for weeks.” 

Jimin can’t resist the laughter coming out of him. It’s typical for Seokjin to be so blunt in bringing up his past endeavours in the middle of a conversation. He isn’t wrong, after all. 

For a long time, Jimin has always been familiar with the BDSM scene, even long before he became involved with Club La Rouge. He had spent many nights frequenting the BDSM club scenes in the city to look for the perfect sub to play with, yet never once could he find the desirable release that he was searching for. 

When he first met the owners of Club La Rouge years ago, he knew that he had finally found the perfect place for him to satiate his desire. 

Just like what he shared with you that night, Jimin was first brought in to test out the new sex rooms before they were publicly launched for the club’s members. Specifically the Bondage Room and the smaller Play Rooms that were built to complement it. He even helped with the design, the main concept, and provided lists of instruments and items that the club needed to create the perfect space for its patrons to live out their fantasies to the fullest. 

All thanks to his past experience and knowledge of the sex scenes that most of the owners were still considered novices at the time. 

He remained in the club after the initial development as a full host in exchange for good pay each month and free access to any of the club’s benefits—as long as he followed the club’s main rules as many others were required to. The arrangement had worked perfectly for Jimin. For a time, he felt that his involvement with the club was enough to satiate his needs that he would only visit the other BDSM clubs whenever he needed a change of settings. 

It all changed the night he took the role of your master, when he finally got a taste of you and your complete submission. 

“I’d have to say that it was quite—” Jimin mulls over for a moment to find the right word, “Liberating.” 

Seokjin’s lips rise to a grin. “Quite the choice of word,” he says, “I suppose she was worth changing your own rules and boundaries, then?” 

Jimin resists a groan. Despite all the restricting rules that the club has set for its staff, it was his own boundaries that prevented him from even considering involving himself with a club member. Specifically, a member that he is fully responsible for. 

He did change a lot of things that night. Crossed many boundaries. Risk his own connection with the club. 

All for you.

Was it truly worth it? He wonders with a side grin on his face. Yes, absolutely. Even with the consequences that followed. 

Days have continued to pass by since then, and have quickly turned into weeks. Yet the night Jimin spent with you in the Play Room remains in his memory so vividly that he can almost relive it each time he closes his eyes. 

He can still feel the touch of your skin at the tips of his fingers, and breathe your delicate scent through the heady scents of the club’s signature fragrance that he has gotten accustomed to after working in this place for so long. Oftentimes, all he simply needs to do is reminisce a small part of that night, and he would be able to hear the sounds of your voice that came out of your lips when he pleasured you. 

It has messed with his mind so badly that he hasn’t been able to return to the club scenes nor has he been able to enjoy them as much as he used to when he eventually did try to venture into other clubs and find a new sub.  

At the same time, it has left him waiting. Anticipating. For him to feel a deep craving of raw and unbidden pleasure that only you could fulfil. It has been a while since he last felt this way. 

“For now, it’s worth more than anything,” Jimin admits, surprising himself to feel this way. It must be quite surprising for Seokjin as well, as the man immediately laughs. 

“I wonder if she thinks the same. Do you think she’ll come back to request another chance?” 

Jimin raises his eyebrows. “Aren’t you going to scold me? Put me on a timeout for fraternising with an exclusive member?” 

Seokjin lets out a scoff. “As one of the earliest hosts who helped run the club from the ground up, you have privileges that no other hosts have. I’m only surprised it took you this long to find someone you’d risk everything to,” Seokjin says with a teasing grin. “So? Is this going to be just a one-time thing, or has she decided to try a new master now that you’ve crossed one of her checklists?”

“Well,” Jimin clenches his jaw at the thought of you giving control to a different master, until he recalls your last words before he left the room that night. 

“This special offer. Is it a one-time thing?”

Jimin eases back in his seat, no longer feeling tense, knowing that you had at least harboured a desire to repeat that night should the chance be given to you. Even if it’s nothing more but a small wish. “She hasn’t revoked her membership since that night, so I think we can expect her to return.” 

He can only hope that you haven’t decided to change to a new host for your next session, so he can be prepared for whatever kind of arrangement you will be making when you return. 

Weeks have passed since that night and you have yet to make any arrangements with the club for a new session. It shouldn’t be a surprise, since it was one of your patterns to wait a few weeks between booking a session with the club before Jimin gifted you the new privilege that you now have. 

But it doesn’t stop him from expecting news from you each time he sits down at his office to arrange different sessions for other club members that he is hosting. He tries not to think too much about it when he returns to his office this evening to open up the club’s schedule.

This week has been slow for the club, presumably due to the fact that most of the VIP members in his quota had recently joined the latest club event that was held at the end of the year. Jimin is in the middle of updating the members list to prepare for the start of the new year when a notification arrives on his system. He doesn’t think much of it when he opens his tablet to check the incoming email, until he sees the content and hope blooms for him. 

As if fate is on his side tonight, your name appears on his screen. 

He quickly skims through your email, reading through the reservation that you had just sent in for your future session which is set for the weekend. His smile grows wider as he reads the detailed specifications that you have added in your email, until he reaches the end, nearly leaping out of his seat to shout and celebrate when your message says,

“Request inquiries for one private session.  Choice of accommodation: The Play Room. Special theme request: Complete Submission.  Specifications: Bondage. Role play. Blindfold. Open for pain and punishments. Choice of partner: Request for the Preceding Master.” 

— ©yoonia, all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any kind is not allowed. translations are not allowed.

[skylin-files]

girl code ⋆ na jaemin

pov: your best friend's former situationship started hitting you up. what could go wrong?

pairing: college student!jaemin x college student! yn

featuring! winter of aespa, nct members

note: this is my first work here. there will be three parts; this is part one. i hope you like it; your comments will be highly appreciated. ♡

check part two here: part 2 | part 3 (final)

── .✦

You and Winter have been best friends for as long as you can remember, inseparable since high school. Back then, you were the duo everyone recognized, always having each other’s backs. But now, in college, life has taken you to separate universities.

You’ve remained a consistent dean's lister and an active member of the campus newspaper, carrying the title of "no boyfriend since birth." Your focus has always been on academics, firmly believing that boys would only be a distraction.

Winter, on the other hand, has been part of her university’s cheer team since her freshman year. For her, cheer takes precedence over academics, and she’s had more talking stages than actual relationships. She’s the embodiment of "pretty privilege."

A classic pair of opposites, perhaps a little cliché. Despite your differences, your bond has always been unbreakable—until a boy enters the picture.

Speaking of the boy, there’s Jaemin, Na Jaemin.

“Na Jaemin!” Jeno, Jaemin’s best friend, yells from outside his apartment, accompanied by the relentless blaring of his car horn.

“I’m not leaving until you open the damn door, Jaemin!” Jeno laughs, still pressing the horn.

“Are you insane? It’s almost midnight. Stop honking the car,” Jaemin grumbles over the phone, peering out his window to spot Jeno grinning, clearly amused. Jaemin shakes his head, slipping on his jacket and grabbing his keys before heading out.

“What took you so long? I told you we’re going to Johnny’s party. You don’t have a say in this,” Jeno remarks as Jaemin climbs into the car. “What were you doing anyway?” he adds.

Jaemin takes a moment, lighting a cigarette before replying, “Homework.”

── .✦

“He looks good—flawless. God’s favorite child,” Winter remarks, scrolling through Instagram as she admires a boy on her screen.

“Who?” you ask, leaning in curiously.

“Oh, just my failed talking stage,” Winter replies casually.

“It’s a failed talking stage for a reason, yet you’re still simping over him,” you tease with a smirk.

“You should get a boyfriend,” you suggest for the thousandth time, genuinely concerned by the growing list of Winter’s failed talking stages and situationships.

“No, you’re the one who needs a boyfriend,” Winter fires back.

“No boyfriend in high school, and now we’re in college, still no boyfriend!” she complains dramatically. You roll your eyes, amused by her antics.

“Boys would do me no good,” you counter.

“Yeah? What about Mark and Haechan?” Winter quips, referencing the two boys you’ve been close to since the start of college.

“They’re different—exceptions,” you retort firmly.

“Whatever,” Winter mutters, waving you off.

── .✦

As the typical college student you are, you decided to pull an all-nighter. Currently on a Discord call with your college friends, Mark and Haechan, what was meant to be a study session had derailed—Mark was already fast asleep, lost in his dreams.

While typing up a draft for an article for your campus newspaper and listening to Haechan’s playlist, your phone buzzed with a text from Winter.

Winter: “Please pick me up. I’m at the local club near your university.”

You frowned, puzzled as to why Winter was partying near your campus and not somewhere closer to her own. A quick glance at the clock showed it was already 2:00 a.m.

“I stayed up all night to be productive, not to fetch an alcoholic from a club,” you muttered under your breath. Still, you knew you couldn’t leave Winter stranded, so you began saying goodbye to Haechan. Winter could be a handful, but you weren’t about to let her fend for herself.

“Want me to come with you?” Haechan offered as you started to log off. “It’s late, and I don’t mind. We can just leave Mark here,” he added, the two of you laughing at Mark’s sleeping figure still visible on the screen.

“Sure, so are you driving?” you teased.

Haechan rolled his eyes playfully. “Yeah, yeah, like I have a choice,” he quipped, grabbing his keys.

── .✦

You felt the strange stares as you walked into the club, clad in a hoodie and sweats, phone pressed to your ear as you called your best friend. The line was picked up almost instantly.

"Winter, where are you?" you asked, only to hear a man’s voice reply.

"This isn’t Winter," he said.

"Who are you? Where’s Winter?"

"Smoking area. Come quick," he answered before hanging up, leaving you no time to respond.

When you reached the smoking area, you were greeted by the sight of Winter hunched over, puking. Beside her stood a boy casually scrolling through his phone, holding her bag like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Winter!" you called, drawing the boy’s attention.

"It’s a school night," you muttered in frustration, moving to help your best friend.

"Right," the boy murmured, barely audible but clear enough for you to hear.

"I ran into her inside," he explained, finally looking up from his phone. "She said she felt like she was going to throw up."

You froze momentarily, caught off guard by his appearance. He looked good—like God’s favorite child, visuals with no imperfection in sight.

"Do you two know each other?" you asked, not directing the question at anyone in particular.

"Yes!" Winter chimed in, her voice still tipsy.

The two of you exchanged a glance as Winter wiped her mouth, straightened up, and grinned as if she hadn’t just been throwing up moments ago—far from her usual composed self.

"Please take me home," Winter slurred, swaying slightly.

── .✦

“Who’s that?” Haechan asked, leaning casually against his car as he spotted you and Winter, who was currently being carried by an unfamiliar boy.

You shrugged. “No idea, but apparently, they know each other.”

“He looks fine,” Haechan remarked, his eyes trailing over the boy. You couldn’t argue with that, but you stayed quiet.

The boy gently helped Winter into Haechan’s car, her giggles filling the air as she pinched his cheek. Haechan grimaced at the interaction.

“Stop being a hater,” you said, nudging Haechan lightly.

Turning your attention to Winter, you asked, “Are you okay? Do you need water?”

Winter cooed dramatically, “You’re such a sweetheart!” Her voice was loud enough to make you, Haechan, and the boy flinch simultaneously.

Winter’s attention shifted back to the boy as she poked his cheek. “You’re a sweetheart too. You should date my best friend,” she said, her words slurring slightly.

Haechan snorted at the comment. “She’s been single since forever,” Winter added with no filter, causing Haechan to burst out laughing.

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Shut up,” you muttered, placing Winter’s bag beside her in the car.

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, which didn’t escape the boy’s notice as he smiled at the scene. His smile didn’t go unnoticed by you either.

── .✦

“Where were you?” Jeno exclaimed as he approached Jaemin outside the local club. Jaemin flicked his half-smoked cigarette into the trash as Jeno arrived.

“I ran into Winter,” Jaemin replied casually, prompting a frown from Jeno.

“Winter? As in Winter, your former... situationship?” Jeno asked, his tone laced with curiosity. Jaemin nodded in confirmation.

“Good thing her friend showed up to pick her up,” Jaemin added, earning an understanding nod from Jeno.

“You're lucky because if her friend hadn't shown up, you’d probably have been the one stuck taking her home,” Jeno teased with a chuckle.

Jaemin nodded. “Exactly what I was trying to avoid. You know I don’t want to have anything to do with Winter anymore.”

── .✦

It was just another day on campus when you entered the lab room, which was unusually crowded as your professor had combined your class with another.

“I wonder who my lab partner will be. Will I be paired with someone from the other class?” you mutter as you sat down and got comfortable, but almost immediately, a voice from beside you interrupted.

“Is this seat taken?” a deep voice asked.

Looking up, you were met with a familiar face—the same guy from last night, the one you suspected knew Winter. Once again, you were struck by his looks. He seemed even more handsome now, his features more defined under the bright lighting.

“Oh, it’s you,” the guy said, sitting down next to you without waiting for you response, his neutral expression replaced by a playful smile.

“I didn’t say the seat was free,” you remarked, watching as he settled into the chair.

He ignored your comment, instead glancing at your university ID. After reading your name, he wrote your name and his on a piece of paper.

“What are you doing?” You asked, watching him scribble.

The boy gestured toward the whiteboard at the front of the room, where it read:

"Look for a lab partner—by pair only! Write your and your partner's name on a sheet of paper. " You were momentarily taken aback as he casually wrote your name next to his on the paper, "Na Jaemin," it read, before standing up from his seat and walking to the front of the class to submit it.

As Jaemin walked back to his seat, you felt your cheeks flush for no apparent reason. Clearing your throat, you muttered softly, "I guess we're lab partners now."

Jaemin sat down and glanced at you, his head tilting slightly as a charming smirk appeared on his face. He thought your sudden shyness, which wasn’t there when you were picking up Winter, was quite adorable.

"I guess we are," he says, his smile widening slightly as he looks at you.

This was definitely going to be an interesting lab class for Na Jaemin.

[yeonzzzn]

💙beautiful angel: sim jaeyun

2.0 of won’t give up on us for the off limits trilogy

pairing: jake x afab!reader word count: 2.1k

synopsis: after the birth of his daughter, jake takes on the responsibility of watching after her while you sleep and get the much needed rest after giving birth. jake and jay spend that late night reminiscing about old times and discussing the future.

genre: established relationship, older brother’s best friend!au, fluffy, suggestive talk.

warnings: swearing, jake and jay being down bad for daughter/niece, mentions of sex, pregnancy mentions, that’s probably it! ♡

✰ this a 2.0 to this trilogy, please see parts 1-3 under the title before reading this one. ✰

˗ˏˋseries spotify playlist´ˎ˗

Jake lets out a quick yawn, rubbing his right eye as his other holds Hwa tighter then wraps the arm back around her. 

You were sound asleep on the hospital bed, completely exhausted from obviously birthing a child earlier in the day. 

Jake rocked little Hwa in his arms, smiling over how soundly she slept like there was no care in the world. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Jake saw Jay’s head fall from the hand he was resting on, jolting him awake. Jake tried to not laugh, not wanting to wake up his daughter. 

“You can go home, man,” Jake whispers, “You’ve been here all day.” 

Jay rubs his eyes, “You can go home.” 

Jake scoffs, narrowing his eyes, “The fuck I will go home, my fiancé just birthed my daughter.” 

“And my sister just birthed my niece.” 

“Point taken,” Jake sighs, knowing damn well Jay wasn’t going to leave. As he said at the sports bar the night they watched the Formula One races, they were both fucked if you had a girl. And well, here you all were. 

Jake assumed Jay was going to stay at the hospital as well once everyone else eventually piled out. They even had to ask the nurses to bring an extra recliner chair for him to sleep on. 

Jay yawned, sitting up in the chair and stretching his arms above his head, “You sure you don’t want to go home?” Jake teased. 

Jay flipped him the bird and stood up from the chair, “I’m going to the cafeteria, want anything?” 

Jake nodded, “Surprise me.” 

Jay left and came back quickly, carrying two chicken sandwiches, “They didn’t have much, since ya know. It’s two am.” 

Jake shrugged, reaching a hand out for the sandwich, “I don’t care at this point I am just starving.” 

Jay unwrapped the foil on the sandwich and handed it to Jake, “Need me to put Hwa in her little crib thing?” 

Jake quickly shook his head, not being ready to let her go yet. It took every ounce of willpower he had not to snatch her away from his family and friends earlier, to yell at them that he wanted his daughter back in his arms. The protection Jake felt towards his daughter was insane. Wanting to bark and growl at anyone and everything that looked at her for too long. 

Jay just rolls his eyes and sits back in his recliner across the room on the other side of your bed, “Well, I call dibs holding her after we eat.” 

Jake glared at him, only for Jay to glare back. 

“I’m just as crazy about her as you are man,” Jay hissed, “My family too.” 

Jake decided to ignore Jay and take a bite of his sandwich. Jake knew he eventually had to get some sleep, mostly if he wanted to be awake when you wake up later. 

So Jake eventually nods and swallows his food, “Fine, only because I need to get some sleep and I rather my daughter sleep peacefully in one of her family member's arms than that plastic hospital crib.” 

Jay chuckles as he eats his sandwich, “I couldn’t agree more, brother.” 

Brother. That word holds so much more meaning now than it did before. Jake went from being best friends with Jay to practically being brothers from how close they were, to being brother-in-laws. Jake will soon actually be related to Jay, and honestly, he couldn’t wait. 

“It’s crazy how everything worked out,” Jake said, finishing the last bite of his sandwich, his hand that still held his daughter slightly squeezed her small body, “I still can’t believe it. Like I am waiting to be woken up from a dream.” 

Jay just stared at his friend, watching how he smiled down at his niece and the tears swell in his eyes, “You know, I’ve never seen you cry as much as I have ever since you started dating my sister.” 

“Shut the fuck up.” 

Jay laughs, finishing off his sandwich and standing from the chair, “But it’s not a dream, Jake. Trust me I tried to pinch myself awake after finding out you were messing around with my sister.” 

Jake just shakes his head, “It just feels all so unreal to me. Like I’m a father now? Who would have ever thought about it.” 

Jay just nods. It seemed so out of reach and impossible for the old Jake. The Jake who partied every weekend and was bringing many different women in and out of his bed, didn’t take college all that seriously and honestly only did it to stay with his friends. Jay saw a change in Jake the moment his sister arrived at the house during winter break all those years ago. You changed him, and it was for the better. 

“Yeah it’s weird to think about,” Jay took Jake’s trash and threw it away, quickly washing his hands and making his way back to Jake, reaching his hands out for his niece, “My turn.” 

Jake lifts Hwa up, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead and straightening out the blanket wrapped around her then sending her into Jay’s arms. 

“Hello sweet girl,” Jay whispered to her, holding her close to his chest and placing a kiss on her forehead, “Uncle Jay has you now.” 

Jake stared at his friend and daughter with endearment, “I love you all so much it’s insane.” 

Jay carefully sat back into the recliner chair, lifting the leg up, “Same here, man. I love you all with every inch of my heart.” 

Jake stood up and stretched, letting out another yawn before sitting back down and getting comfy in the chair, his eyes looking over to you, watching how your chest raised and fell with each sleepy breath you took. 

“Stop looking at my sister like that,” Jay softly snapped. 

Jake looked away from you, his eyes now piercing daggers into your brother, “Huh? That’s my future wife.” 

“Yeah, and you’re looking at her like you want to impregnate her again.” 

Jake smirks, “Because I do.” 

Jay groans, “Jesus fucking Christ.” 

“Trust me, the moment I can, I’m putting another baby in her,” Jake knew these sex jokes were pissing Jay off, they always did. His big brother protective persona always came out. Even though Jake knocked you up and was now engaged to you, Jay still never wavered his protectiveness. And Jake was honestly happy about it. 

“Remind me that I need to speak to her about getting back on her birth control,” Jay said with a roll of his eyes. 

“I’ll just hide it.” 

“Okay yandere Jake,” Jay chuckles, “Calm down.” 

Jake laughs with his friend, enjoying every moment with him. 

He glances back at you, smiling wide, “It’s crazy how things worked out.” 

Jay was busy adjusting the blanket around Hwa, tracing a finger over her little face, “Yeah, things turned out how they were supposed to.” 

Jake sat up in his chair, keeping his eyes on you, “Thank you, Jay.” 

“For what?” Jay asked, leaning his head down to kiss Hwa’s forehead, smiling as she softly yawned. 

“For walking into my life when you did,” Jake was truly, truly, thankful for Jay. Jake remembers the memory so fondly, sitting at the small table in kindergarten alone. Twirling his thumbs against each other as he watched the other kids in his class make the friends he was too shy to make. 

“Why are you sitting here alone?” little Jay asked, nearly scaring Jake to death, “Don’t you have any friends?” 

Jake just shook his head, looking away from Jay. Jake didn’t attend the same daycare these other kids did, everyone already knew each other or were social butterflies enough to make friends. 

Jay sat down beside him, “Sunghoon, come here!” 

Little Sunghoon stood up from the playing mat and waddled to the table, sitting across from Jay without so much as a thought. Sunghoon was shy too, but since he already knew Jay he felt comfortable. 

“What’s your name?” Jay asked. 

“Jaeyun…” Jake whispered, “But I go by Jake as a nickname.” 

Little Jay just smiled, “I’m Jongseong, but my nickname is Jay. And that’s Sunghoon. We are your friends now. I have a friend in the first grade named Heeseung, he’ll be your friend too.” 

And since then the four of them have been attached at the hip. Jake chuckles at the memory. Jay was also remembering the same memory, smiling and chuckling as well. 

“You were so shy back then, I wonder what happened.” 

“I became friends with you,” Jake teased, smiling even wider, “But it’s because of you, on why I am where I am right now.” 

Jay nodded, looking back down at his niece, “Someone had to become friends with you.” 

Jake rolled his eyes, slumping down into the chair. “If you never invited us to come back home with you, we wouldn’t be sitting here right now.” 

Jay nodded again, “Yeah, we sure wouldn’t be.” 

Jay was honestly happy with how life turned out to be. He’s kept the same friends his entire life, had a perfect sibling relationship with you, you’re engaged to one of his best friends and now he’s holding his niece in his arms. Everything balanced out how it should have. 

“I am glad it was you,” Jay said after a few minutes of silence. 

Jake tilts his head into his hand, “Oh yeah?” he said through a yawn, “Glad it was me who became your best friend?” 

“No,” Jay said with a pause, earning Jake to glare at him, “If you’d let me finish,” Jay hissed, “I am glad it was you who fell in love with my sister. You’ve given her a love no one else could. Nobody was good enough for my sister, not until you.” 

Jake smiled, looking at you, “I am so in love with her. Thank you again for walking into my life when you did. For welcoming me into your family and for letting me love YN. You could have easily beat my ass and forbidden me from ever seeing her again. Thank you for accepting my love for her, thank you for letting me date her. She’s my soulmate, my everything,” Jake now looks at Jay, then sending his eyes to his sleeping daughter, “It’s because of you that I not only have the best friend a guy could ask for, but I met my soulmate so early on in life, and now I have a beautiful daughter. It’s all because of you.”

Jay tried to not let the word go to his head and let his ego boost further. Jay knew this was all because of him. But he was glad for it just as much as Jake was. 

“Yeah, be grateful,” Jay teased. 

Jake was about to comment but stopped quickly. 

“Oh my god can you both shut up?!” you groaned, using all your strength to push yourself up to your elbow, “Some people are trying to rest!” 

“Baby,” Jake said, quickly standing up to rush to your side, “Were we being too loud? I am so sorry.” 

You secretly have been awake the entire time, listening to their conversations and cooing over your daughter. You kept praying they’d eventually just shut up and fall asleep. 

You look at your brother, watching as he places more kisses all over Hwa’s face and suddenly you want nothing more than to hold her. 

You reached your arms out, “Gimme.” 

Jay didn’t want to give Hwa up yet but stood up anyway to hand her over to you. 

You smiled down at your daughter, “Beautiful angel.” 

Jake wrapped an arm around you, leaning his head against yours, “She is, isn’t she.” 

Hwa has already received so many kisses since she was born, but you couldn’t help but press your lips to her forehead, sending every ounce of love you have into her skin. 

Jake loved seeing you like this, so motherly. It turned him on, he had to admit. 

“Let’s make another one when we get home.” 

“Oh god here we go,” Jay groaned, sliding down the chair and crossing his arms. 

“I’m telling you,” Jake chuckled, “I am going to knock her up again. I’ll have sex with her every single night over and over until she’s pregnant again.” 

You tried to not laugh at seeing the look of pure disgust on your brother's face. 

“I take back everything nice I said earlier,” Jay said with a pout. 

“No you don’t shut up,” you laughed, “You love us.” 

Jay nods, “I damn well do.” 

Jake kisses your brow, “Let me get you pregnant again,” he whispers. 

“At least get your own apartment or house first, jeez,” Jay sighs, “Our apartment is crowded enough.” 

“Awe, but if we move out how can I tease you about our sex life?” Jake smirked, wiggling his eyebrows at Jay. 

You tuned out the teasing argument between your fiancé and brother, putting your full attention to your daughter, watching as her small eyes flutter open and a yawn leaves her little lips, her eyes now locking with yours. 

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful angel.

—tags: @ikeuverse @slutforsjy @hanjisunginc @alvojake @lhsvibez @wonsbaer @zeeloveshee @jjknoir @jaeyunq @jaklvbub @woniebae @jeongingf1 @haelahoops @willgrysn @in-somnias-world @lovelyikeu @ilikekpop-c @moonrachas @misssparklyprincess @eddieeddiesblog @kaykay11sworld @tasnim10 @kangnina @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @mymemoriesandmelodies @iselltulips @jooniesbears-blog @shawnyle @brownsugarbaybee @woahsehun @laurradoesloveu @citylightsdoll @simjyunnie @cmoundiamante @caramelcandescence @lavenderiridescence @niniissus @wonniethepoo @soobieboobiedoobiedaboobie @fried-bread071696 @coolwitu @kyeoluvr @crimnalseung @jwnghyuns @woninluv @fakeuwus @simhinata

[museaway]

✍️ even more fic writer asks!

This one is a behind-the-scenes dive into a specific fic. Followers can send an ask with a number & the fic they’d like you to talk about ✨OR✨ you can decide what fic you’re focusing on and just ask for numbers. (Or reblog and answer everything like a Q&A)

Start to finish, how long did it take to plan and write? Did you take breaks during the process?

How did you come up with the idea?

Did the idea change at all by the time the fic was complete?

If the fic required it, what did you research in order to write it?

Did you outline the fic?

How did you decide what tense and POV(s) to use?

How did you decide what character(s) would narrate the fic?

Did you cut something out of the outline or an early draft? What was it and why did you decide to cut it?

Did you get stuck at any point? How did you get past that?

How did you approach writing the fic? (e.g. wrote it start to finish in order, started with the ending, starting with the twist)

What was the most challenging aspect of writing it?

What program(s) did you use to write and edit?

Did you write any of the fic by hand? If yes, which parts? Do you find you write differently by hand vs typing?

Talk about the fic’s opening scene & how you approached it

Talk about the characters’ struggles & how you decided on those

Talk about the fic’s biggest moment & how you came up with it

Talk about the fic’s ending. Why did you end it where you did?

Talk about your editing and revision process

While editing, did you kill any darlings? What were they?

Did you work with a beta? How did that affect the finished fic?

Did the fic end up shorter or longer than you had planned?

What is something you learned about yourself as a writer from the experience?

How did you come up with the title?

How did you celebrate finishing?

Share your favorite line

Share your favorite detail

Share a piece of lore you made up for the story

Write a new summary for the fic, but badly

If you made a playlist, talk about the songs on it and share a link

Would you ever return to the story’s universe and write more?

[xhoneygirlxx]

We’re Not Friends

Best Friend!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

summary: Eddie is just trying to help when he offers to be your date to your sister's wedding, but with all the love in the air will you and Eddie be able to stay friends?

warnings: lots of angst. reader's family sucks. reader's mom makes a comment about her weight. anxiety attacks. reader has low self esteem. fluff. best friends to lovers. fake dating. modern au. (this is titled after an Ed Sheeran song and I also use another one of his songs in the fic, sue me). slight smut. allusions to sex. alcohol consumption. swearing. minors dni!!!!!!!!!! reader and Eddie are both in their 20's. no y/n used, reader is referred to as Birdie. skin color/ethnicity/body type is not mentioned. spelling errors/shitting writing, just pretend you don't notice lmao. also the venue is completely made up and so is the location if you couldn’t tell, im not that creative.

*if I miss anything plz lmk*

a/n: hi my loves!!!! this is one of the last fics on my birthday fic list!!! I want to thank all of you for being patient and being so so supportive of my work. I love you all so much!!! also I do go back to work on Monday so I'm going to try to get as many fics pumped out by the end of the weekend.

And that's why friends should sleep in other beds

And friends shouldn't kiss me like you do

And I know that there's a limit to everything

But my friends won't love me like you do

The turning color of the leaves create the prettiest backdrop, tall trees blooming with orange, red, and a pinch of brown. The ones that have already fallen to the ground get swept up under the wheels of Eddie's car, lifting up and swirling around in a pretty dance, and falling right back into place waiting for the next car.

Although the crisp fall morning is peaceful you can't help but feel like you're living a nightmare. As he soft hum of Eddie's playlist flows through the speakers, you're coming up with a plan to turn the whole car around.

So far you thought about faking an illness, one that would stop the whole journey in it's tracks, only to dismiss it because you couldn't put your best friend through that stress. The idea of pulling the steering wheel also came to mind but you quickly threw that out of the window, not wanting to cause injury to the innocent man next to you or anyone else. Your final idea was one you're sure you could pull off as long as you used all the power within your being. If you pushed your feet on the floorboard hard enough, you could poke them out like the Flintstones and stop the car that way.

Between science and logic, you knew that wasn't possible no matter how hard you wished it would. Instead you'll stare out the window, watching all the pretty trees dance in the wind while you push down the rising anxiety that's forming in the pit of your stomach.

"You good over there, Birdie?" The deep voice next to you shakes you from your thoughts.

Turning your head Eddie's already looking at you with a lopsided grin. His demeanor matches the landscape outside, relaxed and serene. As you look at him you wish you could trade places, be as pleasant as he is.

"Yeah I'm just tired." Trying to sell him your answer, you smile lazily at him even though your response holds more tension than a game of tug of war.

Turning his attention back on the road, you watch as the pavement moves on the darkened lenses of his sunglasses. Eddie looks pretty like this, even though you always thinks he looks pretty. Usually he would be a grump having to be up this early, but today he wears his smile like a badge of honor. The dark curls of his hair cascade down his back, while some falls over his shoulders.

He's wearing the same red and black checkered flannel he always does this time of year, the same one you said was your favorite three years ago and it still holds that title. Underneath is a plain black tee shirt, the only one he has that's free of any band name, and a dark blue pair of jeans that have no holes.

He's still the same Eddie, his rings still sit on his fingers and his pick still hangs from the chain around his neck, but it seems that he only gets prettier and prettier as time passes by - like the turning leaves that still hang on the branches of the trees that you drive by.

"I think you're worried about this whole wedding thing," His voice is unwavering, screaming "I'm right" like it always does. "I don't get what's so bad about an open bar and free food."

Although his point is valid, Eddie couldn't be more wrong than that. This wasn't just an event to get drunk for free and stuffed to the gills at no charge. This was your older sister's wedding, the same sister that was the apple of your parents' eyes. Veronica was your arch nemesis since birth, a rival that you had no option but to defeat in order to survive.

You were the outcast of the family, the black sheep if you will, and you had to endure eighteen years of nonstop torture because of it. Your parents, Christine and Tim, were nothing but successful. The doctor and his trophy wife, the star couple in your small community, that had two beautiful and healthy children.

However you were the hardheaded child, the daughter that didn't have a bright future, you didn't carry as much promise as Vee, and your parents made sure to remind you of that every day. So when you moved out three years ago, you made sure to distance yourself as much as you could. But when you received a pristine white envelope with a glamorous invite on the inside, you were roped right back into the hell hole you worked so hard to leave behind.

You could've just ignore it, faked that you were on a trip and couldn't make it but your mother pretty much threatened you into showing up. So that's how you ended up in the countryside right outside of Chicago, driving in Eddie's Toyota Corolla to the Jefferson Manner on a Friday at eight am.

"You're right, Eddie, I should be so thrilled by that. Thank you so much for pointing it out to me." It's snippy with a hint of malice, and your eye roll held enough venom to injure an army of men.

Whistling loudly, Eddie chuckles lightly. "Woah, killer. Relax, I was just tryna help." He's still soft despite your outburst, sweet like your pumpkin spice latte that sits in the cupholder.

Hanging your head, you inhale a deep breath and release it slowly. "I'm sorry, Eds. I just really fucking hate my family."

He switches his attention from you and the road, taking in your saddened features. Reaching his right hand over the console, he places his hand searches for yours and laces his fingers through yours, which you gladly except.

"Don't apologize for that, kay? That's a valid reason for you to not want to go, I was just trying to make you laugh." The sincerity in his voice wraps around you, easing the nerves that go haywire in your body.

His palm is warm like the coffee cups that sit in the cup holders, his voice is as calming as the trees in the wind, and his smile is just as pretty as it was the first day you met him. You're safe with him, the safest you've ever been in your life, and here in the front seat of his car he reminds you of that.

"They just make me crazy, s'why I don't like seeing them." You feel shy being vulnerable, refusing to meet his gaze by focusing on tracing the back of his hand with your free one.

Eddie doesn't mind, instead he reassures you with a quick squeeze of your hand. "If it makes you feel any better, Birdie, I like you a little crazy."

Dimples deep as the sea and smile still as delicate as a flower's pedal, Eddie looks like a painting that hangs in the Louvre. You want to capture this moment of him to have for the rest of your life, so no matter what you can always remember him just like this.

"You say that now." You tease and he eats it right up.

Looking back over to you, he shines his smile onto you, filling you up with the light of a million stars. "And I'll say it till the end of time." There's no tease to it, nothing but truth in the way he says it.

It turns you into jelly, the feelings that swim through your blood stream, and now you've become too sheepish to answer. You decided to trust your touch over your words, squeezing his hand the same way he did to yours, trying your best to communicate the feelings you hold secretly in your heart for your best friend.

The cobblestone driveway leading to the entrance of Jefferson Manner is, for a lack of a better word, beautiful. It is a straight drive to the property, but once you get closer, a large fountain sits in the middle where the arch of the circle driveway starts.

Different colored cars are already lined up, some you recognize and the rest you have no clue who they belong to. Either way it's pretty evident that Eddie 2018 Toyota sticks out like a sore thumb.

The same dread that you left 45 miles back, is now running through you again. Unintentionally, you squeeze his hand harder as your heart begins to pound in your ear and if it hurts him he doesn't mention it. Instead, Eddie gives you one, two, three squeezes and then lets you continue your attempt to stop the blood flow to his hand.

Pulling behind the Mercedes Benz S Class, he puts his car into park and then shuts the car off. Reading your expression the way he always does, he sits in the silence of the car with you until your features loosen up.

"You okay, Birdie?" Even though he knows you're not okay, you still appreciate him asking anyway.

Breathe in. This is temporary. Breathe out. This is not forever. Breathe in. I am safe. Breathe out. I am here.

You repeat this to yourself a few times, eyes clamped shut as you focus on your breathing pattern. Once your head is above water and your heart stops racing, you open your eyes back up to the real world.

Relaxing your shoulders, you let go of the grip you're holding Eddie's hand in. "I'm okay. I'll be okay." Despite answering him, it sounds like you're trying to convince yourself of what you're saying.

Another brief pause goes by and Eddie continues to monitor you, sunglasses now removed so not only can he see you but you can see him.

Your gaze is unwavering, the thousand yard stare has fallen over you and you have yet to dig out of it. "Are you prepared for what we're about to walk into?"

The tone of your voice scares Eddie, the emotion being sucked right out of the words that you speak despite the feelings that battle in your mind that he doesn't know about.

"Honey, I'm prepared for anything as long as I have you." For a split second he winces, wondering if that was too cringy but when your face breaks out into a sweet smile he feels better.

The two of you get out of the car, retrieving your suitcases and dress bags from the trunk. When the door shuts you begin to count the steps it takes to get to the big wooden doors of the mansion.

You don't have to ask Eddie for his hand, he's already giving it to you and you gladly except it, gripping on for dear life the closer you get. Despite the beautiful landscape and the soothing sound of the running fountain, you feel like this is the soundtrack that plays before your imminent death.

The tall, thick, wooden doors sit menacingly in front of you, the skeletons of your past standing just right behind it waiting for your arrival. The ghosts that have haunted your dreams, the graveyard of your history, and the phantoms of your family, mingle and laugh right behind this door.

Eddie waits for you, not moving a muscle until you say so, and you silently thank him with a smile. Like a switch, he watches your face change from flight to fight mode. In a flash your looking over your outfit, brushing down the long black sleeved shirt that sits on your torso, and then straightening out the jeans that stick to your legs.

Your hair is the next thing you frantically fix, pushing it behind your ears and out of your face, letting it fall over your shoulders while doing so. Like a buzzing bee, you zone in on Eddie, fixing the collar of his flannel and then smoothing the material of his shirt. With out speaking, you pick off a singular piece of fuzz from his pants and then let it blow away in the wind.

Moving your hands back up to his chest, you center the pick on his chain. Then move his hair, fixing the ringlets that got blown around in the breeze. Once your satisfied, you move back to your spot next to him and sweep his hand right back into your hold. Releasing on more deep breath, you settle your pinched eyebrows and your determined eyes, and let the worst fake smile settle onto your lips.

The smile doesn't reach your eyes the way it usually does, your teeth push against one another so forcibly Eddie wonders if you'll shatter teeth, and you simply look like your in pain. Either way, you push open the big oak door and let yourself inside with him following right behind.

The lobby of the manner is everything you expected, high ceilings, a crystal chandelier, and every single family member of yours gathered around sipping champagne and speaking to each other like a potential client.

Even though it's magnificent inside with the beautiful décor and lively plants, the sight of everyone in their gaudy outfits and cheap laughter makes it feel like an eternal hell.

Eddie must feel the way your shoulders tense because he's quickly leaning into you, his voice just a whisper in the shell of your ear.

"Hey, it's gonna be okay. You have me and I won't let anything happen." He reminds you, his smile is more sympathetic than anything.

Nodding your head you remain smiling, it's awful and it hurts even doing it but if you want to survive the whirlpool of piranhas, then you just have to fake it until you make it.

"If it isn't our lovely Birdie!" The sound of your mother's voice is like silk, smooth and confident, just like she always was. Walking over to you, she holds a champagne flute in her hand and you wonder how much the bubbling spritz cost your father.

The last time you've seen her was last winter, her million dollar smile outshining the Swarovski crystal tree decorations that sit behind her. Your mother has always been beautiful but her insides are rotten, ugly and maggot infested, all hidden behind the mask that she put on for everyone to see.

You gave up a long time ago trying to figure out her brain, finally accepting defeat to the maze that was her mind. Now when you look at your mother all you see is a shell, a hallow covering that has nothing to offer you other than it's pretty design.

Pulling you into a hug, you're hit with her scent. She smells like Dior and cashmere, the Chanel outfit that sits on her body scratches your skin, and the pearl necklace she wears jabs you right in your collarbone.

"Hello mother, thank you for inviting me to such a wonder occasion." You instantly revert back to your old accent, the same one your mother instilled into you from the time you could even under stand the English language.

A faux laugh comes from her bright red lips, "No need for that, darling, you're always welcome." Her manicured hand waves at you in fake genuineness.

The smile on your face continues to show and you hate to think it matches hers. Even with the sweet tone you use and the gentleness of your actions, the blood that runs through your body continues to boil the longer she stands there.

Eddie on the other hand stands next to you completely and utterly amused by your fake performance. The snort he lets out when you continue to use your "eloquent" voice is quickly covered up by a sniffle.

Like a vulture, your mother's eyes are quick to zero in on the curly haired man next to you. "Excuse my daughter for her bad manner of not introducing us, I'm Christine."

The minute her hand reaches out for a handshake, you're heart stops. This is the one thing that could make or break this whole trip and it was the only thing you didn't prepare your best friend for. Many years of your life, you were trained that a handshake is all it takes for someone to learn about you.

Without skipping a beat, Eddie simply picks embraces her hand like a prince out of a Disney movie and places a kiss to the back of her unwrinkled hand.

"What a pleasure to meet you, Christine, I'm Eddie. And might I say how beautiful you are."

He's all dimples and doe eyes staring at your mother, a true prince charming in his red flannel and jeans. His voice is like a cup of hot chocolate on a cold day, it's smooth going down your throat and it warms your belly better than any blanket can.

That warmth is now tingling your body, a frenzy of butterflies flapping around in the walls of your heart. It clearly works on your mother as well but unlike you she doesn't hide it very well.

"You're really the charmer, Eddie." It's flirtatious and alluring, the same voice she put on for every pool boy your father ever hired.

Annoyance and anger floods through you and you know that your eyes would be shining green to anyone with a trained eye.

While she clutches her pearls and eyes Eddie like he's a four course meal, you intervene into the conversation before it can continue.

"Where's daddy? I'd really like for my boyfriend to meet him." You bat your eyelashes like a pageant queen and your arm acts like a python wrapping around Eddie's, making a mark on what is yours.

"Oh you're father's around here somewhere, you know how he is." She dismisses, taking a drink from her glass and swallowing down the golden liquid quickly. "So how long have you and Birdie here been dating?"

"It's going to be two years next month. Isn't that right, honey?" Eddie turns to you and gives you a playful smile.

Looking back at him you hope he can see the misery that hides being your eyes, a white flag of surrender.

Your mother on the other hand doesn't care about your answer, that's why she didn't ask you. She's reading Eddie, trying to see how much she can push your so called boyfriend until she gets what she wants.

"Well that's just wonderful, young love is a beautiful experience. You have to be careful with Birdie here, she's known to leave the nest quickly." It's a jab, a spiteful and mean comment headed right for your gut.

Eddie doesn't miss the way you're lips falter for a second, the flash of hurt in your eyes. It kills him watching you stand there and take all the comments from your mother like stray bullets.

Turning his attention back to your mother, he gives her a smile, one that you would know as a wicked one but to a stranger would seem kind. "I don't think that will be a problem. Birdie knows where her home is."

It's a direct warning, a clear sign to your mother to not mess with you or what is yours. Just him sticking up for you like that makes your stomach twist in excitement, a feeling you've grown so used to over the course of friendship with Eddie.

"Well, I'm glad she finally found her place then." Your mother responds coldly, clearly hearing the bite in his tone. "Why don't you two go find your room and get settled in, rehearsal dinner is in a few."

Before retreating into the large crowd of family, your mother turns back to you in one more attack.

"Oh and Birdie, wear something that will hide that stomach. Don't want anyone to assume you've been knocked up."

Once you've found your room, you all but rush Eddie inside slamming the door behind you. In the quiet safety of your suite, you can relax your shoulders that have been sitting high since you've arrive.

"Jesus Bird, you weren't lying." Eddie says as he flops himself on the queen sized bed.

You don't respond, instead you squeeze your eyes shut and try to calm the heaviness of your breathing. Behind the darkness of your eyes, little twinkles of stars flash from how hard you have them closed, the swooshing of your heart continuing in your ears like angry waves of the sea.

Breathe in. This is temporary. Breathe out. This is not forever. Breathe in. I am safe. Breathe out. I am here.

You repeat this to yourself over and over again, trying to erase the cruel words of your mother and the images of disgusted family member's faces out of your mind. You're not sure how long you've been standing by the door until a hand grasps at your wrist lightly.

"Birdie," Eddie's coax goes unanswered, "Come on, Birdie."

Warm calloused hands travel to the plump of your cheeks, lifting your face up just enough that he can see you. Finally opening your eyes, you're relieved to be looking into the golden whiskey pools of his.

Smoothing his thumb over your cheek he doesn't say anything, just lets your breathing calm down. Here you are, in the nice room behind the shelter of the locked door, and he's here.

Breathe in. It's okay. Breathe out. You're safe. Breathe in. You are here. Breathe out. So is he.

It's enough to let your feet move on the plush white carpeting, while Eddie leads you to the bed with the tug of your arm. Sitting on the plush mattress on crisp linen sheets you're grounded, and with the heat of Eddie sitting next to you and his hand in yours, you're anchored.

The rehearsal dinner goes over well enough, the Irish mule helping with every single speech that's given and every horror story of your childhood that is told. Luckily for you, Vee didn't ask you to be in her bridal party so you didn't have to attend the actual wedding rehearsal, and even better you won't have to deal with her for the real thing tomorrow.

Eddie does great at dinner, he talks to your father who surprisingly likes him, both getting along over their love for vintage cars. Your soon to be brother in law and his groomsmen also get along with Eddie, they laugh and cut up most of the time while clinking beer bottles together. Not to mention every single woman there wanted to get into his pants, swooning at everything he said and giving him the 'fuck me' eyes while doing it.

You hated it, every single minute of it. Like always you were ignored, simply looked over until some story was being told where you were ultimately the joke of. Any time someone asked you what you were doing with your life, you were met with cringing smiles and snickering laughs.

Four separate times your mother commented on your dress, the way it fit, the price value of it, and how it really wasn't a good color on you. All of your sisters friends rolled their eyes and whispered back and forth while staring at you, aunts and uncles acted dumbfounded when you told them that you were a freelance writer for a small music magazine back in Indy, and your cousins made comments about how badly you look since the last time you saw them.

It didn't matter anyway, even if your sister asked how you managed to get a stand up guy like Eddie to agree to be with you, in front of all of the guests. You had to remind yourself that you were there for the free booze and food or whatever the hell Eddie said in the car on the way here.

This wasn't a popularity contest for you, it was simply you being forced to do something against your wishes because your mother said so. You asked yourself why you even listened to her in the first place while letting the brown liquor burn in your stomach.

Why was it so important that you even showed up here? Why did you have to come to the awarding ceremony of favorite kid when you knew you weren't going to win? Why would you even set yourself up for such failure just because your mom said so?

Well, you're answer came when a flushed faced Eddie was laughing with your grandparents at one of the round tables in the corner. His eyes crinkled at the sides and his head was leaned back so you had a clear view of the neck you loved so much.

Then you looked over at your sweet looking grandparents who laughed loudly at whatever was said. Your grandmother had her hands on her cheeks, shaking her head back and forth, and beaming brightly. Your grandfather smiled around his cigar, big round belly jumping with laugher, and his cheeks smooshing up against the frames of his big glasses.

You didn't come here to win a competition. You didn't come here because your mother threatened you within an inch of your life if you didn't. You didn't come here because you thought it would be fun.

You showed up because you wanted to prove to the people who doubted you for so long just how happy you were. You wanted to prove that happiness doesn't come from the amount of money in your account or how many rooms sit in your house. You came here because you wanted to prove that they were wrong, that the grass on the other side of the fence could be green too, and that someone who grew up differently that you could still do amazing things.

Eddie was someone that your father would've had you kicked out over bringing him home in high school. Eddie was the boy your mother would tell you to stay far away from. Eddie was the kind of guy that your sister wouldn't look twice at because of who he was.

But right now, during the beautiful dinner the night before your sister's wedding, your best friend/fake boyfriend has them all wrapped around his guitar calloused finger.

-

Not much has been said between you and him, especially when he was the man of the hour. You're not really complaining though, you're happy that he made a good impression with them. When the night began to settle into your bones and the alcohol started to make you tipsy, you slyly walked up to Eddie and tugged on his sleeve to let him know it was time to go.

On the walk back to the room, you sway slightly with every step you take, balancing on the walls with one hand while the other holds your strappy heels. When Eddie stops and turns to the door of your room, you all but smack into him with clumsy steps.

While he fumbles with key, you're in blissful content with your eyes closed. The kick of the lock and the turn of the handle doesn't even pull you out of your daze, instead you hold your arms out like a mummy and feel around until you find Eddie's clothed back.

You can tell Eddie is laughing by the large breath that passes through his nose and the tell tale sign of him kissing his teeth. Large hands wrap around your wrists, guiding you into the doorway that you can't see.

Your cheeks are warm, the smile on your face is permanent, and the buzzing in your heart makes you feel light on your feet.

"Alright mummy, lets get you into bed." Letting go of his hold on you, you feel him slightly brush past you to close the door. His voice sounds like the way stars look, sparkling and bright, twinkling all around.

You giggle, eyes still shut and your nose scrunched up. "M'not a mummy but I could be if ya want."

Putting your arms out, you lean back and forth on your feet to mimicking what you think is a mummy but looks more like a zombie.

"Baaaaahhhhh, I'm a mummy. Be very afraid." You deepen your voice, dragging the syllables of every word to make them come out slower.

Eddie must be entertained because the sound of a loud raspberry comes from where he stands, the clear sign of him losing the grip on the laugh he'd been holding in.

Cracking one of your eyes open, you hope to find him with rose cheeks and dimples flashing, the look you love so much. Instead you see him, beaming at you without the shine of his canines. It's an admiring smile, one where your eyes go all gooey and your smile is simple yet dipped with so much love.

Opening your eyes all the way, you let your arms down slowly to rest by your sides, a meek look painting your face.

"Did I do good?" You ask, even though you didn't really want his opinion.

"I think you're perfect." It comes out even, smooth like the hilltops in December covered in a layer of the purest snow.

The two of you sit there for a while, soaking up the glow of each other and letting it sink into your souls. For a moment you wonder if he feels it too, the spark that you feel whenever he's around. You wonder if he feels like crying simply because he loves you that much. You wonder if he wishes this whole dating thing wasn't just a lie and that it was true, the same way you wish it was.

Once the moment ends for him, he's clearing his throat to clear any lovesick daze that's left. "I guess we better head to bed, huh?"

Scratching at the back of his neck, you try with everything in your power to not look down where his turtle neck rode up, where the patch of mouth watering hair trails from his belly button to underneath the waist of his pants.

A part of you wishes you stuck it out longer, stayed in your seat at the dinner table just to see him in his outfit longer. He asked you to help him pick it out this morning and when you think back to it, you get flustered with thinking how domesticated it felt. Making him try on different shirts and jumping for joy when he walked out of the bathroom wearing a turtleneck he swore he'd never wear. The khakis you pulled out of his suitcase was the cause of so much laughter and the pink tinge that sat on the rounds of his cheeks.

God, he looked so good, especially with his hair pulled back and the dangled earring that sat in his ear, but now it would all be a memory for you to file away in the back of your brain.

Eddie had already started taking off his dress shoes, sitting on the edge of the bed bent over and messing with the knots that kept the laces together.

The smile that once held your lips high and proud, now weigh down in a sad frown. Even after the success of the dinner and proving everyone wrong, you are now brought back to the reality of what you and Eddie were. Just friends.

"Since I'm a gentleman and I can't see to get these shoes untied, I'll let you shower first." His voice comes out strained from how hard he pulls on the knotted strings.

You don't say anything, quietly nodding your head before shuffling over to your suitcase that sits by the closet. Grabbing a sleepshirt and some shorts, you go to move around the lanky man that can't get his shoes off no matter how hard he tries.

Without a sound, you kneel in front of him, placing your clothes somewhere off to the side. Taking his calf in your hand, you place his foot on your thigh. Delicately, you remove the first shoe and then the next.

"Y'didn't have to do that." It's quiet but not enough to be a whisper, still you shrug.

"I didn't but I wanted to." It seems so simple when you say it, even though deep down inside you wanted that last piece of your fantasy before it goes away for the rest of the night.

"Will you help me with my dress?" You ask him, standing on your feet and turning so that the golden zipper is facing him.

In the mirrored closet door you can see him and how he hesitates for a moment, shaky hands lingering in the air before they close in on the gold slider.

The sound of the metal teeth unlatching from one another fills the room, clouding the unrhythmic beat of your heart. You try to remember the feeling of him on the sacred part of your skin, the way his light touch tickles you and makes goosebumps rise. You want to memorize it like your favorite song, so that when you leave this place and the fake nature of this whole thing goes away, you still have something to think about on those bad days.

It ends too soon for your liking, his hands retracting right back to the sides of his body like a measuring tape. With the fuzz of your tipsy has now wore off but the sting of everything still remains.

Giving him a small smile and muttering a thank you, you hide in the bathroom where the sound of running water hides the muffled cries that leave your throat.

Waking up felt more painful than any hangover you've ever had. The pain of Eddie's bare back facing you was heartbreaking. You force yourself not connect the freckles that litter his skin or trace your fingers along his spine and shoulder blades.

It's a sight you've seen plenty of times and sharing a bed is something you've done more than enough that you're not uncomfortable. Yet your heart squeezes, wrapping itself up in the tightest loop so that it hurts to even breathe.

The sound of his soft snores only makes it worse, imagining what he dreams about and if it's you.

You use all of the willpower that's left in your body, marching over to the small kitchenette that sits in the corner of the giant room. Pouring yourself a cup of coffee, you try to focus on the swirl of dark liquid mixing with the coffee creamer and how they mix together so perfectly. Without much of a peep, you slide the glass doors that lead out to the balcony and sit down in one of the plush chairs.

You look out over the mountains of colors, tracing over the lines of trees that go on for miles. Although pretentious, you think Veronica did an excellent job and choosing this location.

Sipping on the hot beverage, you watch the clouds in the blue sky go by, wondering what it would've been like if your sister asked you to be a bridesmaid. You imagine that the two of you would've actually gotten along and maybe even laughed together. You envision what it would've been like to have your mother compliment you in your gown and how it would feel to take a picture with your family where all the smiles were real.

Tears begin to burn the back of your eyes, falling rapidly like a fall rainstorm. The skin of your cheeks burn slightly from the heated trails of water that fall. You're sad and incredibly so. Within the first twenty four hours of being here, you remember how much of an outsider you really are to these people.

Even with the company of Eddie, someone that truly loves you, you still can't help but feel so fucking lonely. To put on the mask you wore for many year back on and pretend that the man standing next to you is yours to claim is harder than any other time you had to do it.

This time you weren't really faking it, the love that you showed to him, the happiness you felt with him was real, just the titles weren't. With the cool fall chill, your coffee has gone cold but your tears keep coming.

"You made yourself a cup of coffee but not one for me, and this is how I find out? That's just mean." Eddie's curly hair pokes out from the small gap in the sliding back door that he's created.

His eyes are squinted from the harshness of the morning sun but his cheeky smile is forever unwavering. Sliding a space big enough for him to go through, he stalks out onto the small space in his plaid pajama pants and a hoodie he must've thrown on.

Trying your best to cover up that you've been crying, you wipe the back of your hand across your cheeks, but Eddie still catches your movements.

Instead of embarrassing you, he sits down in the chair across from you and looks out over the balcony.

"You okay?" It's a simple enough question, one that you can answer with one word and he wouldn't pry for more information to not overwhelm you.

Sniffling, you shake your head yes and then move your gaze to where his is. "No, yeah, m'good. The view really does something for me." You say, chuckling just a bit at your own joke.

Eddie also laughs, only this time it's not as genuine as it usually is, just a hard exhale through his nose.

"Yeah, sure does." He agrees, letting his eyes follow the red and orange of the tree tops.

A calm silence falls over you two, only the sounds of the birds that fly and the ruffle of the leaves can be heard from where you sit. It's peaceful.

"You know, I really thought this weekend would be different." It comes out of your mouth as easy as the breeze that blows. Still your eyes stay trained out in front of you and past the mountains of trees.

Eddie doesn't respond but the hole that he burns through the side of your head with his eyes tell you he's listening.

"When I was little, I used to imagine the day Vee got married. I would fantasize that maybe one day we could be close enough that I could enjoy this day with her and we could be sisters for once." You exhale an uneven breath, moving your sights to the cup that still sits in your hand.

"I just wanted all of us to be a family for once. I wanted my mom to actually act like she liked me, for my dad to say that for once he was proud of who I was, and for Veronica, I just wanted her to say she's happy that I'm her little sister."

Just like that, every single thing you've carried since you were little is now out in the open, whipping around in the wind like the dead leaves. Even with the amount of burden that's been lifted, the pain still remains the same. It all hurts, stabbing you over and over again in the scars that you worked so hard to patch up.

Eddie doesn't say anything and for a moment you don't think he'll say anything at all. You watch him pull out the pack of cigarettes he had nestled in his pocket and place one in between his pretty pink lips.

Another second goes by and he's flicking the wheel of his lighter, shielding the flame away from the wind so he can light it. When the end of the smoke burns red, he takes a big inhale and then lets the cloud of smoke out.

"I know what I say won't matter," He starts before taking another drag of his smoke, "But these people don't fucking mean anything."

"They're you're family and I get that but they don't fucking deserve you, they never have. A fake boyfriend, a new haircut, or a cool job shouldn't define their love for you. They're shitty people who were blessed with an amazing person and they didn't even realize it."

Eddie looks at you the same way he speaks, with nothing but truth. You let the words settle in your mind, letting them soak in, in case you forget.

The tears that once ceased start to flow again, except this time it's from relief. It feels good that someone else sees your worth, to know someone actually holds value to you.

"It kills me that they treat you the way they do, that they can say all those things without batting an eye. I know why you asked me to come here and I know I have a job to do, but man do I want to rip them all a new asshole."

Although he speaks with fire behind the words, you have to laugh from the thought of the actions. The moment you giggle, his own smile forms.

"I hope you know that I love you and when everything is done and over with, we'll give them the bird." To make his point, Eddie raises his middle finger high into the sky.

Repeating his actions, you hold your own finger to the sky and smile happily while doing it.

Letting his arm fall back down into place, he pats the tops of your thighs and stands from the chair.

"That's my girl, now let's get ready for an open bar and free booze." Holding his open palm to you, he helps you up.

The wedding reception was what you thought it would be, drawn out and boring. The only saving grace of the whole thing was Eddie's commentary, the scruff on his face tickling you every time he leaned close to your ear.

A lot of the things he was saying was probably just to make you feel better but you did have to agree, the dress Veronica picked out was a bad rip off of Princess Diana's and it shouldn't have seen broad daylight.

You did however get choked up when the vowels started, not because you were happy with your sister but because you wish that were you and Eddie up there instead.

All and all it was okay, even though one of your brother in law's aunt's wore a hat so big you couldn't see past it most of the time.

The wedding reception though was beautiful. The décor of the manner looked exquisite against the maroon coloring of all the bridesmaids dresses. The tables had beautiful bouquets sitting in the middle and you can't help but laugh imagining your father cutting a check for all of them.

To much of yours and Eddie's delight, there is an open bar that is stacked high with pricey alcohol. Again you laugh thinking about your father having to pay the tab, which you and Eddie will be happy to run up.

So far this is the most the two of you had fun, both laughing and enjoying the company that's around you. The table you've been stuck at is also occupied by other family rejects that enjoy the titles they've been given.

Eddie's hand hasn't left your thigh, which you're more than happy about, and every so often he flexes his fingers squeezing the meaty flesh.

You feel good, the boost from the drinks and the feeling of your best friend makes you bloom like a flower in the spring. You watch as he talks to the people at your table and how his hand moves with enthusiasm. You trace the muscles in his neck and watch his adam's apple bob up and down when he speaks. Your chin sits in the palm of your hand as you watch him be himself like he always is.

He's so beautiful, he always has been, and in this moment he gets to be yours. You don't have to think about what anyone else thinks, you don't have to question how the two of you look from another's perception, because you know that your heart bleeds for him and it always will.

Eddie's your home, he's your best friend, and he's your person. You think back to what he said to you this morning and how he called you a blessing but you think he's wrong. Eddie is the true blessing. He's sweet, he's smart, and he's so fucking caring it's disgusting. Behind all the jagged features and dark clothes, he's nothing but a giant teddy bear that wears his heart on his sleeve.

"Birdie." He smiles at you, all goo and mush it makes your heart skip.

You hum in response, still sitting in the same position, looking at him as if he were a painting.

"You wanna dance?" He blushes, embarrassed by the request and you feel like you're back in junior high.

"You, Eddie Munson hate dancing." You say, scrunching your nose cutely.

Laughing loudly, he nods, "Yeah, I know, but I'd dance with you."

That breaks you out of your daze, breath catching in your throat. "O-oh, yeah. I'll um dance."

Again he stands, holding a palm out to you so he can help you up. Leaning you to the dance floor, you can't help but feel jittery despite the wine that you've consumed.

Once out on the floor, he pulls you into his chest. Strong hands grip your waist through the silk fabric of your red dress and you desperately try to fight the need that rises in your guy.

You stand stiff, unsure of what to do with yourself and Eddie's quick to help you, placing your hands around his neck where they lay contently.

He looks good tonight, even better than last night, and you hate how it makes butterflies flap around in your stomach. The black button up shirt sits nicely on his torso, wrapping his arms so deliciously you want to take a bite out of them. The black slacks he wears fit nicely and you wonder if he had them tailored and you have to ignore the want to undo the sleek black belt with a bright golden buckle that holds them up. Again his hair sits in a low bun and that silver chain peeks out at you from underneath his collar.

"I can't believe you asked me to dance to Ed Sheeran." You say breathlessly, still nervous with being this close to him.

Eddie snorts, lopsided smile forming on his lips. "What, a guy can't like Ed Sheeran and metal? That's gatekeeping, sweetheart." He teases.

Rolling your eyes, you try to ignore that tingle that settles in your cheeks. "Whatever you say, Munson."

"I'm serious, Thinking Out Loud was in my top ten last year." The two of you hold eye contact until you can't take it anymore, both bursting into laughter at his admission.

"That's something you shouldn’t repeat." You sputter at him and he laughs even harder.

"Hey, I like this song, okay?" He defends, still swaying back and forth with you.

Raising your hands in defense, you pull back on your clowning for the sake of your friend. Placing your arms back around his neck, you lean your head on his chest and try to hear the beat of his heart.

The scent of him floods your nose, cologne and smoke, whiskey and linen, and you wish you could bottle it to keep forever.

"Why do you like this song anyway? It's kind of basic." You mutter at him.

His shoulders lift in a shrug, and he takes a moment to respond. "Honestly, I like it cause it reminds me of you."

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion and you remove your head to look up at him.

"Wha'do you mean?" You mumble, eyes searching his for some sort of answer.

Looking bashful again, red tints his cheeks and ears in a blush. Sticking his tongue out to wet his lips, he hesitantly answers.

"I always felt like he said everything I couldn't, ya know? Everything I ever wanted to say to you, he put in a song."

It feels like the whole world stops, that time freezes and it's just the two of you. You're in shock and for some reason you can't wrap your head around anything he's saying.

"What?" You say harshly and again he shrugs, shying away from your burning focus on him.

"Reminds me of you and everything I ever felt about you. I always wanted to call you mine but if you hadn't noticed, I'm a chicken shit."

You don't say anything, instead you stare at him with your mouth wide open. Eddie starts to loose his cool, frantically flexing his fingers against the material of your dress, looking around at anything but you.

"Sorry, I - shit, I really fucked this up," He doesn't get to finish his sputtering apology because you quickly smash your lips into his.

His lips taste like brown liquor and chapstick, like love and forever, and you can't believe you waited this long to experience it. Two heart sync as one, two people fall together like the leaves outside, and anxieties are finally laid to rest.

You hate that you pull away first but the need for air is too much. Eddie bends enough so that his forehead leans on yours, both looking into each other eyes living in the moment of your blissed out hearts.

"Tell me if I'm being too forward but do you wanna get out of here?" He flirts and you respond simply by pecking his lips once more.

"Thought you'd never ask."

thank you all for reading!!! love you guys <3

-

-

-

[taifenggg]

Lovestruck[Demon Bros]

Things the bros do because they're simps for you.

CW: mild cursing

Characters: GN!Reader(no pronouns specified), Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphegor

Authors Notes: I actually have a huge amount of requests for my other accounts but since I’m impulsive and have no sense of impulse control, I made another writing account for the sole reason that I wanted to ramble about Obey Me LMAOOO

[Dateables Here]

Lucifer [🦚💙]

He listens to you, even when he's busy

“Luciferrr,” you poke your head into his room, after knocking on his door. You stroll in taking in the sight of a somewhat disheveled Lucifer, sitting behind stacks of paperwork. A few buttons at the top of his shirt are undone and his tie is loose around his neck. You resist the urge to stare longer than you need to, turning away and plopping down in one of the armchairs in his room.

“I’m busy.” Although his words are blunt, there’s no actual malice behind them. You take that as a sign that since he didn’t actually tell you to leave that it was okay for you to stay. You lean over the side of your chair, sighing somewhat dramatically. “You’ll never believe what happened earlier.” And soon, you find yourself rambling about your day to Lucifer, speaking whatever comes to your mind. Every time you glance up at Lucifer, it seems as though he’s busy with whatever paperwork he’s subjecting himself to, but you ignore it and continue speaking.

Unbeknownst to you, Lucifer had actually stopped quite a while back ago, he was busy staring at the same line again and again, but somehow he couldn’t find the urge to continue working when all he could focus in on was your voice. His finger tapped absentmindedly at his pen as the edges of his lips quirked up every so slightly finding the way you were sprawled over the chair somewhat amusing. 

Mammon [💰💛]

He’ll do something with you, even if he’s inclined not to

“D-do we have to do this?” Mammon’s hand squeezed yours tightly and you could feel how clammy it was against yours. You pouted at him, your lip jutting out, “Mammonnnn come on, can we please go into the haunted house? It’s supposedly much scarier than last years!” Your expression softens as you watch him visibly stiffen at the prospect of going in, “Well on second thought-”

“Nono, lets do it. T-the Great Mammon will protect you from anything that jumps out at us!” He points at himself, puffing his chest out to make himself seem more imposing. You resist the urge to laugh at how goofy he looks despite the fact that he’s clearly scared shitless. “Okay, okay,” you reach over to ruffle his hair, hoping that in doing so could help alleviate some of the nerves he was feeling. 

“Oi, what’re you doing?” Mammon’s face flushes, but he doesn’t stop you, and instead leans into your hand more. Giving your hand one more squeeze, he charged towards the haunted house with you in tow. Needless to say the both of you spent the entire time clinging to each other when you're in there. 

Leviathan [🐍🧡]

He has a playlist of songs that reminds him of you

“Levi, I just listened to that one artist you recommended to me, and I gotta say, their songs are absolute bangers,” You grin at him, “You have really good music taste!” Leviathan blushes from the compliment, turning to the side, “Well they actually dropped a new song recently, let me share it with you, I have it in my playlist.” He pulled out his D.D.D to open his Devilfy, scrolling through the numerous playlists that he had.

His finger pauses in its scrolling as it hovers over a certain playlist titled, “My Henry.” He glances up at you, feeling himself grow flustered as he quickly looks away once more, typing in the song instead of trying to scroll and find it and sends it to you. “Thanks! I got it!” You beam at him, shooting him a thumbs up from where you’re seated, and putting in your earbuds to stream it. 

He’s grateful he made the playlist private, lest he deal with any questions from your end. 

Satan [😾💚]

He sees parts of you in characters in his stories

“What do you have there?” you peeked over his shoulder, draping your arms over him. If it were any of his brothers, he would have found himself snapping at them and pushing them away, but since it was you Satan found himself leaning more into you touch. “A book I recently acquired,” he smiled, reaching over to squeeze your hand. 

“Mhmm, anything interesting?” You absentmindedly traced the outline of his fingers with yours and Satan swore he could feel his heartbeat going faster. “Well, in a way the main character of this book is kind of like you. They’re kind, and they’re not afraid to stand up for what they believe is right,” He chuckles softly, turning the page with his free hand. You deadpanned, shaking your head, “You’re just describing every generic, heroic main character out there.”

Satan paused, setting his book down slightly as he turned to look at you, a gentle smile on his face. His hand reaches up, brushing your cheek, “I suppose, but they are traits that define you as well.”

Asmodeus [💋🩷]

He’s always seeking to try things with you

“Y/N! There’s this new café that opened up near Ristorante Six, want to come try it with me?” Asmo grabbed your arm, hugging it tight, almost as if he was afraid you would slip away from his grasp. You turned to face him, laughing softly as you transferred his hand into yours. “Didn’t you just go there the other day?” you teased him lightly.

Asmo pouted slightly, holding onto your hand even tighter, “Since the line was so long I didn’t get to try everything that I wanted to because they were limiting the number of items a single customer could order, that’s why I want to bring you with me! Plus it’s super pretty there, pleaseeeee?” You held his gaze, your resolve wavering slightly, you had planned on doing something else but seeing how badly he wanted to go you couldn’t help but relent.

“Alright, alright, of course I’ll go,” you laughed lightly. Asmo’s face lit up upon hearing your answer, tugging you along with him, “Great! I have a few other things planned out, so hopefully you don’t mind if I steal you for a few hours~”

Beelzebub [🍔❤️]

He seeks out your opinion before deciding on anything. 

“Bloody Terrine, Deep-Fried Devil Zebra, Devildom Stir-fry with Toxic Chameleon-”

“Beel you’re drooling,” you laugh softly, grabbing a napkin to wipe his mouth. He takes it from you, his stomach rumbling from the thought of what he wanted to eat. “Y/N, what should I get?” His eyes focus in on you after a few seconds of staring at the menu. “Huh?” you’re slightly startled from his sudden question. “You should get whatever you’re feeling Beel, I mean you’re the one eating it.”

Beel shook his head, continuing to hold your gaze, “I want to hear your thoughts as well,” a slight flush dusts his face, but it’s barely visible. You smile softly, looking up at the menu, thinking for a second. “Mmmm well you got Bloody Terrine yesterday, and Deep-Fried Devil Zebra a few days before right? Why not get the stir-fry?” Beel takes in your thoughts, thinking on it for a moment before beaming at you, “Okay I’ll do that, thanks Y/N.”

Belphegor [🐮💜]

He prioritizes your comfort over his own

Belphie opened his eyes slowly, a smile finding its way onto his face as he stared at you, asleep next to him. However that smile soon turns into a frown as he studies the way your face is scrunched up, almost as if you were having a bad dream.

Belphie gently untangles himself from you, brushing a hand over the top of your head. Almost immediately, your face relaxes and you let out a puff of air as you slip into a more comfortable slumber. Belphie continues brushing his hand through your hair, carefully so he wouldn’t end up waking you up. Sure he was tired, but he would have rather helped you than just leaving you to fend for yourself when it came to the nightmares that plagued your sleep. His tail curls around your leg comfortingly, holding you in place so that you don’t end up rolling away but at the same time you’re still near him. 

Belphie sighs softly as he settles back down next to you, rearranging his limbs so that they weren’t in your way. Although it wasn’t the most comfortable position, it was better than nothing. 

To Masterlist [ ◇ ]

Back to Navigation [ ◇ ]

[mononijikayu]

cantarella — gojo satoru.

“Satoru.” you called softly, holding up the flower crown you had made. It was a simple creation, woven from a mix of daisies, buttercups, and clover. The flowers were arranged in a delicate, colorful circle, their petals still fresh and dewy from the morning sun. He looked up from his sketchpad, his expression as indifferent as ever, but a hint of curiosity sparkled in his eyes. “What’s that?” he asked, his tone more inquisitive than dismissive. You knelt beside him, holding the flower crown out. “It’s a gift for you.” you said cheerfully. “I made it just for you. I thought you might like to wear it.”

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Nobility;

WARNING/s: Angst, Not Safe For Work (NSFW), Dark Fic, Yandere! Gojo, Toxic One-Sided Romance, One-Sided Incest, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Incest, Hurt/ No Comfort, Character Death, Grief, Mention of Depression, Mention of Mourning, Depiction of Physical Touch, Depiction of Mental Anguish, Depiction of Violence, Depiction of Death, Depiction of Harm, Heavy Angst, Heavy Pining, Please Save Reader;

WORDS: 11k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this was inspired by this version of cantarella by kaito and miku i watched a long long time ago. i remembered about this notes i had about it while sitting and studying for uni. and i wrote it sitting down instead of reading more because inspiration came to me. i hope you enjoy it, even though its a dark fic!!! i love you all <3

main masterlist

kayu's playlist - side 1000;

if you want to, tip! <3

✧❁❁❁✧✿✿✿✧❁❁❁✧

YOU WERE FREE, YOU THINK. As the heavy iron gates of the convent swung open, the world outside flooded your senses, a stark contrast to the cloistered life you’d led for years.

The scent of damp earth and blooming flowers replaced the cold, sterile air of the convent, while the distant hum of life—a world you had been shielded from—pressed in on you. Your eyes blinked against the sudden brightness, the light almost painful after so many years of darkness.

The distant memories of your parents’ tragic deaths haunted you, lingering like a dark cloud over your soul. Their faces were blurred now, softened by time but not forgotten.

The whispers of their absence were loudest in your heart, a constant reminder of the life that had been ripped away from you. Grief had been your only companion, even more than the nuns who had raised you, and now it threatened to drown you as you took your first steps into the world beyond those gates.

Now, as the newly orphaned Duchess, the title weighed heavily on your shoulders, burdened with expectations you weren’t sure you could fulfill. The responsibilities that came with it loomed over you, a shadow of the future that awaited. You had been a child when the world had last known you, but now, the world demanded more—a woman, a Duchess, a leader.

You stepped out into the open, the gravel crunching beneath your feet as the cold wind whispered through the barren trees. The carriage waited in silence, an imposing reminder of the life you were about to inherit—a life you had never asked for. The estate loomed in the distance, its shadowy silhouette framed against a darkening sky.

It was supposed to be home, a sanctuary, yet it felt nothing like it. The sprawling lands, the echoing halls, and the faceless people who would serve you—they were yours now, or so everyone insisted. But as you stood there, shivering in the twilight, you couldn't help but wonder what "yours" truly meant.

Was it the title bestowed upon you, heavy and hollow, that now defined your existence? Or was it the legacy that clung to your name, a legacy built on the sacrifices and sorrows of those who came before?

Perhaps it was the past, a mosaic of memories and losses that had shaped you, leaving cracks in your heart that would never fully heal. And now, as you faced the uncertain road ahead, you realized that your future, too, was bound by these invisible chains. A future where each step would be weighed down by duty, expectation, and the inescapable fear of the unknown.

But despite the fear gnawing at your resolve, despite the weight of the unknown pressing down on your shoulders, you knew there was no turning back. The world outside the convent walls, a world you had once seen only in fleeting dreams, had now become your reality.

A reality where your choices—or lack thereof—would define not just your life, but the lives of those who depended on you. And so, with a heart heavy with dread and determination, you took a deep breath and stepped forward. Ready or not, you had to face it.

The carriage stood before you like a silent sentinel, its dark velvet interior offering little in the way of comfort. The family crest, meticulously embossed on its side, glinted ominously in the fading light, a stark reminder of the bloodline that bound you to this life.

As you approached, the driver, a man of few words and fewer expressions, gave a brief nod, his face as unreadable as the future that awaited you. There was no comfort to be found in his gaze, only the cold efficiency of someone accustomed to serving the powerful.

Climbing into the carriage, you felt the chill of the autumn air seep into your bones, mingling with the dread that clung to your skin. The unfamiliar path ahead stretched out before you, winding through forests and fields that you barely remembered.

Every jolt of the carriage wheels against the rough terrain seemed to echo the uncertainty within you, the sense of being unmoored from everything you once knew. Yet, despite the fear that tightened your chest, a quiet resolve began to build within you. The path was dark, and the journey would be long, but it was yours to take.

As the carriage began to move, you allowed yourself one last glance at the world you were leaving behind. The convent, with its high walls and serene silence, had been a place of refuge, but it was also a cage—one that you had outgrown. The life ahead, with all its unknowns, was daunting, but it was also a chance to carve out a new destiny, one that was truly your own.

✧❁❁❁✧✿✿✿✧❁❁❁✧

YOU WERE FINALLY HERE. Days had passed before the carriage finally came to a halt. The endless journey had given you time to think, to imagine what awaited you, but nothing could have prepared you for the reality.

The estate loomed large and imposing before you, a testament to the power and wealth that now rested on your shoulders. But it was not the grandeur of the estate that caught your attention as you stepped down from the carriage—it was the man who stood waiting.

Gojo Satoru. Your cousin. The only family you had left.

You had heard of him in whispers and letters, the distant cousin who had managed your affairs while you grew up behind convent walls. The cousin who had wanted to raise you himself but had been overruled by those who deemed it more proper for a young duchess to be sheltered and shaped by the church. A cousin who had become a stranger over the years.

But now, standing before him, you saw just how much he had changed. He had grown handsome, undeniably so. Tall and broad-shouldered, his presence was commanding, his silver hair catching the last rays of the setting sun, giving him an almost ethereal glow.

The dark glasses he wore only added to the air of mystery, concealing his eyes and leaving you to wonder what lay behind them. His lips curled into a smile that was anything but comforting. It was a smile that promised more than a simple welcome; it promised possession.

You were drawn to him, as you had been as a child. The way he moved, the way he spoke—it was as if the world bent to his will. But now, as a woman, you saw the darkness in his gaze, the twisted hunger that had taken root in his heart over the years.

"Cousin." he murmured, his voice smooth and sickly sweet, as if every word was coated in honey, "it’s been too long."

You swallowed hard, trying to steady yourself in his overwhelming presence. "It has, Satoru. I... hardly recognized you."

His smile widened, a flash of white teeth that made your heart skip a beat. "And I, you. But then, how could I recognize someone I’ve only known through letters and rumors? Yet here you are, in the flesh, finally free from those cold walls."

There was something in his tone that made you uneasy, a sharp edge beneath the politeness. "Yes, finally," you replied, your voice quieter than you intended. "Thank you for... taking care of everything while I was away. It must have been a burden."

"Burden?" He chuckled softly, the sound rich and unsettling. "Not at all, my dear. It was a pleasure, truly. I did what any family would do—protect what is ours, and ensure it would be ready for your return.”

“Then…Then, I thank you, cousin.”

Though…." he paused, his gaze lingering on you, "I must admit, I didn’t expect you to have grown into such a… lovely woman."

The way he said it made your skin prickle. There was no mistaking the intent in his words, the way his eyes, hidden though they were, seemed to strip you bare. You took a small step back, trying to reclaim some sense of control.

"I suppose we’ve both changed," you said, keeping your voice as steady as possible. "But we’re still family, Satoru. I hope we can... get to know each other again."

"Indeed," he replied, his voice dropping to a lower, more intimate tone. "Family is everything, after all. And now that you’re here, we can finally be together, as we were always meant to be."

The way he said it sent a chill down your spine. There was something more in his words, something that hinted at a deeper, more dangerous desire. You forced a smile, hoping to mask your unease. "Yes, together. It’s been so long, after all."

He stepped closer, closing the small distance you had created. "Too long, cousin. But now that you’re back, I intend to make up for all the lost time. You and I… we have so much to catch up on."

The finality in his tone left little room for argument, and as he offered his arm to lead you inside, you had no choice but to take it, feeling the warmth of his skin through the fabric of his sleeve. His grip was firm, almost possessive, as he guided you through the grand doors of the estate that would now be your home.

But as you crossed the threshold, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were stepping into something far more dangerous than you had ever imagined. And that the cousin who walked beside you was not just your protector, but something far darker, something you were not sure you could escape.

The estate he led you to was vast, cold, and eerily silent. Each step echoed through the corridors, the sound bouncing off the stone walls that seemed to close in on you with every passing moment. It was a place meant to impress, to awe with its sheer size and grandeur, but all it inspired in you was a deep sense of unease. The shadows seemed longer here, the light dimmer, as if the house itself had secrets it was unwilling to reveal.

Gojo’s hand hovered just above your lower back, never quite touching, but close enough to make you acutely aware of his presence. It was a silent assertion of control, a reminder that he was guiding you, that you were under his protection—or perhaps his possession. The gesture felt more like a threat than a comfort, his proximity sending a shiver down your spine.

As you walked, you noticed the servants—silent, spectral figures who moved quickly to avoid your gaze. Their eyes darted away whenever they saw the two of you, averted as if they knew something you did not, as if they feared something you were only beginning to sense. They kept their distance, and when they spoke, it was in hushed tones, their whispers carried away by the drafty corridors, lost in the vastness of the estate.

The grand halls, adorned with portraits of ancestors long gone, felt more like a mausoleum than a home. The faces in the paintings seemed to watch you with disapproval, their cold eyes following your every move, judging you, questioning your right to be here.

The air was thick with history, but it was a history that felt oppressive, as though the very stones of the house were weighed down by the sins and secrets of those who had lived here before.

Gojo’s voice broke the silence, low and almost conspiratorial. “It’s been a long time since these halls have seen life,” he said, his tone carrying a hint of something unspoken. “I’m afraid the estate has grown as cold as its master in your absence.”

You forced a smile, trying to shake off the unease that clung to you like a second skin. “It’s... it’s very grand,” you replied, struggling to find the right words. “I suppose it will take some getting used to.”

He chuckled softly, the sound devoid of real warmth. “Grand, yes. But it is a lonely place, cousin. One grows accustomed to the silence, to the emptiness, but I’ve always thought it would be different with you here.”

The way he said it made your skin crawl. There was something too intimate in his words, something that suggested his desire for you went far beyond familial affection. You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, but his expression was unreadable behind those dark glasses, his lips curled into that same unsettling smile.

“You’ve taken such good care of everything,” you said, trying to steer the conversation to safer ground. “I’m grateful, truly. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

His smile widened, but there was no joy in it, only something dark and possessive. “There’s no need for repayment,” he murmured, his voice dipping into a more dangerous register. “You’re here now, and that’s all I’ve ever wanted. We’re family, after all.”

Family. The word echoed in your mind, but it felt hollow, like a cage closing in around you. The estate, the title, the wealth—it was all yours, but at what cost? And as Gojo led you deeper into the heart of the mansion, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were being led into something far darker, something that would be much harder to escape.

At last, you reached what appeared to be a sitting room, the heavy doors creaking as Gojo pushed them open. The room was dimly lit, a fire crackling weakly in the hearth, casting flickering shadows on the walls. The furniture was old but well-kept, the upholstery dark and rich, but it did little to warm the cold atmosphere of the room.

“This will be your sanctuary,” Gojo said, guiding you inside. “A place to rest, to think, to remember that this is your home now.”

You nodded, feeling the weight of his words. As you looked around, the reality of your situation began to sink in. This was your home, your life now. But the estate that should have been a sanctuary felt more like a prison, and the man who should have been your protector felt more like a captor.

“I’ll leave you to get settled, cousin.” Gojo said, finally stepping back, though his presence lingered in the room long after he had left. “But don’t be a stranger, cousin. We have much to discuss, and I’ve been waiting a long time for this.”

As the door closed behind him, the silence of the room enveloped you, cold and suffocating. You were alone now, but the shadow of Gojo’s presence lingered, and you knew that this was only the beginning.

✧❁❁❁✧✿✿✿✧❁❁❁✧

YOU WERE THE CENTER OF THE WORLD. Or at least that’s what Satoru had said when he told you that society celebrated your return with much joy.  A ball was to take place in your honor, a grand affair meant to celebrate your return to the echelons of noble society.

The thought of it filled you with a mix of excitement and dread. After years of isolation, the idea of stepping into a room filled with the most powerful and influential members of the ton was daunting. You could already hear the whispers, feel the weight of their expectations. 

Your reflection in the mirror stared back at you, a stranger dressed in silks and jewels. The gown you wore was exquisite, a deep sapphire that brought out the color of your eyes, the neckline adorned with pearls that once belonged to your mother. But despite the finery, you couldn’t help but feel exposed, vulnerable in a way you hadn’t since leaving the convent.

A soft knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts, and before you could respond, Satoru entered the room. He moved with an easy grace, his presence commanding and almost overwhelming. Dressed in a tailored black suit that accentuated his broad shoulders and tall frame, he was every bit the image of a duke, a man who could have anything and anyone he desired.

His eyes, hidden behind those dark glasses, seemed to pierce through you as he approached. “Nervous, cousin?” he asked, his voice smooth and laced with amusement.

You tried to smile, but it felt forced. But you could not help it, to be this nervous. To feel like you were going to vomit and find yourself in fright. This was your social debut, after being far away from your kind for so long.

“A little.” you admitted, your hands twisting together in your lap. “I haven’t been to a ball since I was a child. I don’t even know how to behave anymore.”

Satoru’s smile was gentle, but there was that ever-present edge to it, a darkness that lingered just beneath the surface. He stepped closer, taking one of your hands in his. His touch was warm, firm, and it steadied you, even as your heart raced beneath your chest.

“Don’t be.” he murmured, lifting your hand to his lips. He pressed a kiss to the back of it, the gesture both tender and possessive. “None can rival your beauty, or your existence. You will be the brightest star in the room tonight, and they will all fall at your feet.”

The way he spoke sent a shiver down your spine. His words were meant to reassure you, but there was something almost predatory in them, as if he was not merely presenting you to society, but staking his claim on you before them all.

“I just… I want to make a good impression.” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I am a duchess of the realm. I must do well. For our family."

“You will, cousin. Do not worry much.” Satoru replied, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. “But remember, you have nothing to prove to them. You are the Duchess, the true heir to this estate. They should be the ones worrying about impressing you.”

You looked up at him, searching his face for any sign of doubt, but all you saw was confidence, a certainty that made you feel both comforted and trapped. There was no escaping the life you had returned to, and Satoru was a constant reminder of that.

“I’m here, by your side,” he continued, his voice a low, soothing murmur. “No one will dare speak ill of you. Not with me watching over you.”

His words wrapped around you like a protective veil, and despite the unease that still lingered, you felt a flicker of hope. Perhaps this night wouldn’t be as terrifying as you feared. Perhaps, with Satoru by your side, you could navigate the treacherous waters of noble society.

“Thank you,” you said softly, your fingers curling slightly around his as you let yourself lean into his presence, if only for a moment. 

“Think nothing of it,” he replied, his smile growing wider, more possessive. “Tonight is just the beginning. And I’ll make sure they all know that you belong to me.”

With that, he offered you his arm, guiding you out of the room and toward the grand hall where the ball was to take place. The music had already started, the sound of violins and piano filling the air with an elegant melody. 

As you stepped into the room, all eyes turned to you, and for a brief moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. You could feel the weight of their gazes, the scrutiny, the admiration. But Satoru’s hand on yours was a constant anchor, a reminder that no matter what, you were not alone.

And as the night unfolded, with dance after dance, with whispered conversations and stolen glances, you realized that Satoru’s words had not been an empty promise. You were indeed the brightest star in the room, and every person who approached you did so with a mix of awe and reverence. But beneath it all, you could feel the shadow of Satoru’s presence, always there, always watching.

And though you smiled and played your part, there was a part of you that wondered just how deep that shadow, and how much of yourself you would lose to the man who claimed to protect you.

As the evening progressed and the ballroom filled with the sounds of laughter and music, the time for dancing arrived. You had been introduced to countless faces, each more eager than the last to make a connection with the newly returned Duchess. But all the introductions and small talk had left you feeling exhausted, your nerves frayed by the constant attention.

Then, as if sensing your unease, a man approached you. He was tall, with a calm demeanor that immediately set him apart from the others. His hair was blond, neatly combed, and his sharp features were softened by the warm, sincere expression on his face. He bowed gracefully before you, his eyes meeting yours with a quiet intensity that made your breath catch.

"Your Grace," he said, his voice steady and kind, "may I have the honor of this dance?"

You hesitated for only a moment before placing your hand in his, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. There was something about him—something genuine, something safe—that made you feel at ease in a way you hadn’t all night.

"Of course," you replied, allowing him to lead you to the center of the dance floor.

The music swelled as the two of you began to dance, moving in perfect harmony with the waltz. Unlike the others who had tried to impress you with their skills or status, this man—Count Nanami Kento, as you had been told—was different.

He was careful with you, his touch gentle as he guided you through the steps. His eyes never left yours, and in them, you saw not the hunger or ambition you had grown accustomed to, but something else entirely—kindness, understanding, and a quiet admiration that made your heart flutter.

With each turn, each graceful movement across the polished floor, the weight of the world seemed to lift from your shoulders. The laughter and chatter of the ballroom, once so overwhelming, now faded into a distant hum, a backdrop to the moment unfolding between you and Nanami.

The lights softened, the grand chandeliers casting a warm glow over the sea of dancers, yet all you could focus on was the man guiding you effortlessly through the crowd. His touch was gentle yet firm, his presence steady, grounding you in the here and now.

As you glided together, Nanami spoke in a voice so soft it felt like a secret shared between the two of you. He asked about your life, your thoughts, your dreams—questions that were simple, yet carried a depth that surprised you.

His gaze never wavered, and the way he listened made you feel as if every word you spoke was of utmost importance. There was no rush, no need to impress; just a quiet, sincere interest that drew you in.

Nanami was a world apart from the overwhelming force of Satoru, who often swept into your life like a whirlwind, leaving you breathless and off-kilter. Satoru’s presence was impossible to ignore, a vibrant, chaotic energy that demanded attention.

But here, with Nanami, everything was different. His calmness soothed the edges of your anxiety, his steady demeanor a balm to the storm that often raged within you. There was a reliability to him, a sense of safety that you hadn’t realized you craved until this very moment.

You found yourself drawn to him in ways you hadn’t anticipated. It wasn’t just the contrast to Satoru’s intensity, though that was part of it. There was something about Nanami’s quiet strength, his thoughtful nature, that spoke to a deeper part of you.

As you danced, the rest of the world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of you in a cocoon of shared understanding and unspoken connection. It was unexpected, this pull you felt toward him, yet it was undeniable.

Your graceful dance continued and little by little, you allowed yourself to get lost in the rhythm, in the soft cadence of his voice, in the comforting warmth of his presence. The worries that had plagued you moments before melted away, replaced by a sense of peace that was rare and precious.

In that fleeting moment, it felt as though time had slowed, and all that mattered was the steady beat of your hearts moving in sync, the unspoken promise of something more that lingered in the air between you.

As the dance came to an end, he held you a moment longer than necessary, his hand lingering on yours. His eyes, warm and sincere, held yours, and you felt a rush of something you hadn’t felt in years—something like hope, like the promise of something good. When he finally released you, he bowed again, his voice low and sincere.

"Thank you, Your Grace," he said softly. "It was truly a pleasure."

The words were simple, but the sincerity in them made your heart swell. You offered him a genuine smile, the first you had felt all night. "The pleasure was mine, Count Nanami."

As he stepped back into the crowd, you found yourself watching him go, your heart still racing from the unexpected connection. There was a warmth in your chest, a sense of peace that you hadn’t felt since you’d arrived at the estate. By the end of the night, you couldn’t deny it—you had fallen for him, the quiet, steady count who had treated you with such care.

But then, as you turned your gaze away from where Nanami had disappeared into the crowd, your eyes were drawn to a figure standing in the shadows at the edge of the ballroom. Satoru. His dark glasses glinted in the low light, but you could feel the intensity of his gaze, piercing through the distance between you. His expression was unreadable, his lips curved into a faint smile that sent a chill down your spine. 

You knew that he had seen everything—the way you had smiled at Nanami, the way your guard had dropped in his presence. Satoru’s eyes bore into you, and the warmth that had filled you moments before was replaced by a cold dread. 

No matter how much comfort you found in Nanami’s gaze, you couldn’t escape the shadow that Satoru cast over your life. And as the night drew to a close, you realized with a sinking heart that the feelings you had developed tonight would not go unnoticed or unchallenged.

✧❁❁❁✧✿✿✿✧❁❁❁✧

IT WAS OBVIOUS, THAT YOU WERE SMITTEN. In the weeks following the ball, the once overwhelming silence of the estate became bearable, softened by the anticipation of receiving each new letter from Count Nanami Kento.

The grand halls, with their cold marble floors and towering ceilings, no longer felt as lonely when you held his carefully penned words in your hands. His letters arrived with a sense of regularity, as if he knew precisely when you needed them most, each one a lifeline connecting you to something warmer, more genuine.

As you unfolded the delicate parchment, the world outside your window seemed to fade away. His handwriting, neat and precise, reflected the man himself—thoughtful, deliberate, with each word chosen with care.

His letters were not just a form of polite correspondence; they were conversations, deep and meaningful, where his interest in your life and well-being shone through. He asked about the small details, the little things that most overlooked, making you feel seen in a way you had not experienced before.

Nanami’s words were a balm to your troubled heart, each sentence carrying a sense of calm and reassurance that eased the tension that often gripped you in the estate’s oppressive atmosphere.

His kindness wasn’t ostentatious or overwhelming, but quiet and steady, like a gentle stream that slowly erodes the hardest stone. Through his letters, he offered you a refuge, a place where you could express your thoughts and feelings without fear of judgment or dismissal.

As the weeks passed, you found yourself eagerly awaiting each new letter, cherishing the moments when you could escape into the world he created with his words. His thoughts and feelings were laid bare, revealing a depth of emotion and understanding that resonated with you on a level you hadn’t expected. In a place where everything felt rigid and predetermined, his letters brought warmth and a sense of possibility, reminding you that there was more to life than the cold formality that surrounded you.

In his words, you felt understood and valued in a way that was rare and precious. The letters became a bridge between your two worlds, drawing you closer to him with each exchange. What had started as a simple correspondence had grown into something more, something that brought light into the darkest corners of your life.

And as you carefully folded each letter and tucked it away, you couldn’t help but feel that this connection with Nanami was something special, something that had the power to change everything.

However, not everyone was pleased with this growing connection. One evening, as you sat in the dimly lit parlor, absorbed in the latest letter from Nanami, the quiet solitude was suddenly disrupted by the sound of footsteps.

You looked up to see Satoru standing in the doorway, his presence filling the room with a tension that hadn’t been there moments before. His usual carefree demeanor was nowhere to be found; instead, his expression was stern, his blue eyes darkened with something you couldn’t quite place.

Satoru had been quieter than usual lately, his playful banter and easy smiles replaced by an uncharacteristic stillness. The change in his demeanor was subtle at first, but now, as he stood before you, the weight of it was undeniable.

His normally relaxed posture was rigid, his shoulders squared as if he were bracing himself for a confrontation. The way his eyes narrowed as they flicked to the letter in your hands sent a chill down your spine, making your stomach tighten with unease.

He didn’t say anything at first, but the silence between you was heavy, charged with unspoken words. You could feel his gaze, intense and searching, as if he were trying to unravel the connection you had been so carefully building with Nanami through your letters. The air in the room seemed to thicken, the warmth of Nanami’s words in your mind now clashing with the coldness radiating from Satoru.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low and controlled, but there was an edge to it that made your heart skip a beat. “You’ve been spending a lot of time writing letters.” he remarked, his tone betraying the undercurrent of disapproval he was trying to mask. The implication was clear, though he didn’t directly mention Nanami’s name. 

You felt a surge of defensiveness rise within you, but it was tempered by the confusion and hurt that came with seeing Satoru like this. The man who had always been a whirlwind of energy and confidence now stood before you, guarded and almost vulnerable in his own way. The tension between the two of you crackled in the air, a silent battle of wills as you both struggled with what was left unsaid.

Satoru’s gaze bore into yours, and for a moment, it felt as if the world had shrunk to just the two of you in that room, locked in a standoff where neither wanted to be the first to back down. The letter in your hands, once a source of comfort, now felt like a weight, a reminder of the widening chasm between you and the man who had always been a constant in your life.

“And I have heard from whispers, dearest cousin. You’ve been spending a lot of time with count Nanami.” Satoru remarked, his voice edged with an irritation that was difficult to ignore. “I see he’s become quite the confidant.”

You looked up from the letter, surprised by the sudden shift in his tone. “He’s been kind to me, Satoru. He’s welcomed me back into the ton with kindness.” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “We’ve exchanged letters, but it’s just a way to stay connected, to find some comfort in this unfamiliar world.”

Satoru’s smile was thin and cold. “You’re aware, I’m sure, that count Nanami’s intentions aren’t as noble as they seem. He’s a man of ambition, just as any man is and you’re merely a means for him to elevate his own status. He’s using you, and yet you seem to take his words to heart.”

The accusation stung, and you felt a surge of defensiveness rise within you. “That’s not fair, Satoru. Count Nanami has always been genuine with me. He’s been nothing but respectful and kind. I don’t believe he’s using me for his own gain.”

Satoru’s expression hardened, his gaze growing colder. “You’re naïve if you think he has no ulterior motives. He may seem kind now, but he’s a count—an ambitious one at that. He sees an opportunity in you, and it’s only a matter of time before he tries to exploit it.”

“I don’t think you understand him at all.” you said, your voice rising with frustration. “Nanami is not like that. He cares about me, and I care about him. Why can’t you accept that?”

Satoru’s eyes flashed with anger, the dark glasses doing little to mask his irritation. “Careful, cousin. It’s one thing to indulge in a fleeting fancy, but it’s another to be so blinded by it that you risk your own position and safety. I’m only trying to protect you.”

“Protect me from what?” you demanded, rising from your seat. “From finding someone who treats me with respect and kindness? Nanami is not a threat—he’s a friend, someone who has shown me a different side of life.”

Satoru stepped closer, his demeanor imposing. “A friend who will inevitably use you to further his own ambitions. I’ve seen this game before, and it’s not one you want to be a part of. If you can’t see that, then I’ll have to make you understand.”

The tension in the room was palpable, and you could feel the walls closing in as Satoru’s anger boiled over. His words were like daggers, each one aimed at driving a wedge between you and Nanami. But despite the fear and the rising sense of dread, you stood firm.

“I won’t let you dictate who I can and cannot befriend,” you said, your voice trembling but resolute. “Nanami is more than his title, and if you can’t see that, then perhaps it’s you who doesn’t understand what’s truly important.”

Satoru’s face darkened, and for a moment, the room was filled with a tense silence. The air was heavy with unspoken words, with the weight of conflicting loyalties and emotions. Finally, he turned on his heel, his frustration evident in his stride.

“Do as you wish,  cousin.” he said coldly. “But remember, I warned you. And if you find yourself disappointed, don’t come seeking my sympathy.”

With that, he left the room, the door slamming shut behind him. You stood there, heart racing, the echoes of his harsh words still ringing in your ears. The letter from Nanami lay on the table, a reminder of the solace and understanding you had found in him. Despite Satoru’s anger and warnings, you knew that you couldn’t turn away from the connection you had begun to cherish.

The world outside the estate might be filled with ambition and deceit, but in Nanami’s letters, you had found a glimpse of something real—something worth holding onto, no matter the cost.

A few weeks later, as the seasons shifted and the public gardens came alive with the colors of spring, you found yourself meeting Nanami Kento in a secluded corner of the park. The air was crisp, filled with the scent of blooming flowers and the gentle hum of bees. The vibrant landscape provided a stark contrast to the somber confines of the estate, and as you walked along the winding paths, your heart felt lighter, freed from the constraints of your daily life.

Nanami awaited you beneath a canopy of flowering trees, their petals drifting down like confetti around him. His eyes lit up with warmth as he saw you approach, and for a moment, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of you. He offered you a soft smile, his gaze filled with a tenderness that made your heart flutter.

“Your grace,” he said, taking your hand in his as you reached him. His touch was gentle, and he guided you to a nearby bench, where you both sat, the blooming flowers forming a natural backdrop to your intimate conversation.

“It’s so beautiful here,” you remarked, looking around at the garden’s vibrant colors.

“It is, my lady.” Nanami agreed, but his attention was solely on you. He reached for your other hand, holding both of them on his own. “But not as beautiful as you.”

The sincerity in his voice made your cheeks flush, and you glanced down, unable to hide the smile that curved your lips. “You always know how to make me feel special.”

Nanami took a deep breath, his gaze locking onto yours with a seriousness that made your heart race. “There’s something I need to tell you, my lady. I hope I may be so prude as to ask you for your kindness.” 

You smiled at him tenderly. “I give you leave, my lord. You need not ask my permission.”

“I….I must be honest with you, my lady.” he began, his voice steady but filled with emotion. “From the moment we first danced together, I knew that you were someone extraordinary. Over the weeks, as we’ve exchanged letters and shared our thoughts, my feelings have only deepened.”

He paused, his fingers tightening around yours. “I am in love with you, more than I’ve ever thought possible. And I intend to marry you, if you’ll have me.”

The words hung in the air, their weight both exhilarating and overwhelming. You stared at him, the truth of his confession sinking in. The garden, the flowers, the world seemed to fall away as you looked into his eyes, seeing the depth of his affection reflected back at you.

“Yes, my lord.” you said breathlessly, your voice filled with emotion. “Yes, I will marry you. I’ve been waiting for someone who sees me for who I am, and who makes me feel truly alive. I can’t imagine my life without you.”

Nanami’s eyes softened, and a relieved, joyful smile spread across his face. He pulled you gently into his arms, holding you close as he whispered, “You’ve made me the happiest man in the world.”

You nestled against him, feeling the warmth of his embrace and the promise of a future together. The garden around you seemed to celebrate with you, the flowers blooming even more brightly, the air filled with a sweet, intoxicating scent. For the first time since your return to the estate, you felt a sense of genuine happiness and hope.

As you looked up at Nanami, the man who had shown you a different side of the world, you knew that this was the beginning of a new chapter—one filled with love, joy, and the promise of a future where you could finally be yourself.

✧❁❁❁✧✿✿✿✧❁❁❁✧

YOU HAD NEVER BEEN HAPPIER. The news of your engagement to Nanami Kento spread like wildfire, and by the time of the next grand ball, it was the talk of every guest in the room. The ballroom, usually filled with the hum of polite conversation and the clinking of glasses, was now charged with an air of curiosity and excitement.

Everywhere you looked, people were whispering behind gloved hands, their eyes alight with speculation about the upcoming union between the Duchess and the influential Count. The event, ostensibly a celebration of the merging of two prominent families, felt more like a stage for the spectacle of your new life—a life that had changed so swiftly, it sometimes felt as if you were watching it unfold from a distance.

As you moved through the room, graciously accepting congratulations and well-wishes, you couldn’t help but notice the eyes that followed your every move. Some gazes were filled with admiration, others with envy or curiosity, but all of them were fixated on you, the woman at the center of this momentous occasion.

The weight of their expectations settled on your shoulders, making the air feel heavier, the music louder, the lights brighter. Despite the celebratory atmosphere, a part of you felt detached, as if this wasn’t your life at all, but a role you were playing in a story written by someone else.

Amidst the sea of unfamiliar faces and forced smiles, your eyes were drawn to one figure that stood out from the rest. Satoru. He was present at the ball, his imposing figure a stark contrast to the lively crowd around him.

He cut an imposing figure in his formal attire, his white hair catching the light as he moved with the grace of someone who had long been accustomed to being the center of attention.

Yet, tonight, there was a distance about him, a coldness that had not been there before. He was surrounded by admirers and well-wishers, as always, but even in the midst of the crowd, he remained aloof, his eyes scanning the room as if searching for something—or someone—he could not find.

Your heart ached as you watched him, the memory of your last confrontation still fresh in your mind. The distance between you had grown wider in the weeks since then, an unspoken tension hanging between you like a storm cloud that refused to break.

You longed to mend things, to reach out and bridge the chasm that had formed between you and your cousin, but every time you caught his eye, he looked away, his expression unreadable.

The ball continued around you, the music swelling, the dancers twirling, but your thoughts were with Satoru. The joy that should have accompanied your engagement was tainted by the unresolved tension between you, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that something precious was slipping through your fingers. Nanami’s presence beside you was steady, his hand warm on yours, but it was Satoru’s absence—his emotional distance—that gnawed at your heart.

As the night wore on, you found yourself searching for moments when you could catch Satoru’s gaze, hoping to see some sign that he was still the cousin you had grown up with, the one who had always been by your side.

But each time, he remained distant, his walls firmly in place. The chasm between you seemed insurmountable, and as the ball continued, the realization that you might never bridge that gap settled heavily within you.

Yet, despite the ache in your chest, you knew that this night was a turning point, a moment that would define the course of your future. The ball was not just a celebration of your engagement; it was the beginning of a new chapter in your life.

But as you danced with Nanami, his presence comforting and reassuring, your thoughts kept drifting back to Satoru, the one person who should have been standing by your side, sharing in your happiness. Instead, he stood apart, a distant figure on the fringes of your new life, and the pain of that realization was almost more than you could bear.

With a deep breath and a determination to confront the situation, you made your way across the ballroom toward Satoru. The crowd parted slightly, and his gaze met yours as you approached, his dark glasses hiding his true emotions but his posture unmistakably stiff.

“Satoru, dearest cousin.” you began, your voice steady despite the fluttering in your chest. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you. I’m sorry for how things went the last time we spoke. I didn’t mean to defy you or hurt you.”

He regarded you for a moment, and then his expression softened slightly, though he remained guarded. “I’m sorry too, my lovely cousin.” he said, his voice low and sincere. “I let my frustrations get the better of me. It wasn’t fair to you. I only wanted what I thought was best.”

Before you could respond, Nanami approached, his presence a calming contrast to the tension between you and Satoru. He offered a warm smile to both of you and extended a hand in greeting. Nanami then shifts his face, looking towards your own cousin.

“Is everything alright?” Nanami asked, his tone gentle and concerned.

Satoru glanced at Nanami, then back at you, and after a brief pause, he nodded. “Yes, everything is fine, my lord. I was just about to make a toast in honor of the engagement.”

He signaled to the servants, who quickly moved to bring in bottles of wine and glasses. The murmur of the crowd grew as they sensed something significant was about to happen.

With a gracious nod, Satoru raised his glass, and the room fell into expectant silence. His gaze shifted between you and Nanami, and though he spoke with his usual composure, there was a sincerity in his tone that was hard to ignore.

“Ladies and gentlemen, my gracious lords and ladies.” Satoru began, his voice carrying through the ballroom. “Tonight, we celebrate not only the union of two distinguished families but also the beginning of a new chapter in the lives of these two wonderful people. To my cousin, the duchess, and to my lord count Nanami Kento, I offer my heartfelt congratulations.”

He turned to you and Nanami, his smile warm but tinged with an underlying complexity. “May your life together be filled with happiness and prosperity. May you find joy and support in one another through all the challenges and triumphs that lie ahead.”

The room erupted in applause, a cascade of sound that seemed to envelop you from all sides. The clinking of glasses followed, a symphony of celebration that filled the grand hall, yet in the midst of it all, your heart was racing with a blend of emotions you could barely contain.

Relief washed over you like a cool breeze, cutting through the tension that had been knotted in your chest for what felt like an eternity. The applause wasn’t just for the announcement of your engagement—it was for the moment of reconciliation that had just played out before everyone’s eyes.

Satoru’s gesture, though unexpected, had sent a ripple through the gathered guests. His choice to stand and raise his glass in a toast, his expression carefully composed but unmistakably sincere, was more than just a public acknowledgment of your engagement.

It was a sign—a signal that he was willing to accept your choice, even if it pained him to do so. For so long, the distance between you had been a source of quiet anguish, an unspoken rift that neither of you had known how to bridge. But in that moment, with everyone watching, Satoru had taken the first step toward closing that gap, and the weight of that gesture settled over you with a mix of gratitude and sadness.

You felt Nanami’s hand tighten around yours, the warmth of his touch grounding you amidst the swirl of emotions. When you looked up at him, his expression was calm, yet there was a depth in his eyes that spoke of an unspoken understanding.

He didn’t need to ask what you were feeling; he knew. He had always known. Nanami’s quiet strength, the steadiness that had drawn you to him in the first place, was your anchor in this moment. His support was unwavering, his presence a silent promise that he would stand by you through whatever came next.

The applause continued, but the world around you seemed to blur, the faces and voices fading into the background as you focused on the two men who meant the most to you—one by your side, offering you a future, and the other across the room, finally offering you his acceptance. There was a bittersweet quality to the moment, a recognition that while you were stepping into a new life with Nanami, something else was being left behind.

As you smiled and nodded in response to the well-wishes of the guests, the gratitude you felt wasn’t just for the applause or the approval of those around you. It was for the unexpected turn of events that had allowed a measure of peace to be restored between you and Satoru, even if things would never be quite the same as they once were.

The mix of relief and gratitude in your heart was tinged with a quiet resolve—to honor the connections that had brought you to this point and to move forward with grace, knowing that you were not alone in this journey.

In that moment, with Nanami’s hand in yours and Satoru’s gaze finally softened by acceptance, you allowed yourself to breathe, to feel the weight of the past lift just enough to let you take the next step forward. The path ahead was still uncertain, but with Nanami by your side and the lingering warmth of Satoru’s gesture in your heart, you felt ready to face whatever lay ahead.

“Thank you, Satoru." you said softly, raising your own glass in acknowledgment. “Your words mean a great deal to us.”

Satoru inclined his head slightly, acknowledging your gratitude, and then turned to mingle with other guests, leaving you and Nanami to share a moment of quiet reflection.

The evening continued with renewed energy, and as you danced with Nanami, you felt a sense of peace, knowing that despite the challenges, you were surrounded by people who cared for you and were willing to bridge the gaps that had formed.

As the night continued, the ball's festivities seemed to intensify, with guests dancing and chatting in high spirits. But amidst the celebration, you noticed that Nanami appeared increasingly pale and uncomfortable. His hand, which had been warm and reassuring in yours, grew cold, and he occasionally grimaced, as if battling an unseen pain.

Concerned, you guided him to a quieter corner of the ballroom, away from the crowd. “Kento, my love.....are you alright?” you asked, your voice filled with worry.

He tried to smile, but the effort was clearly painful. “It’s nothing, my darling.” he said, though his voice was strained. “I’ve just been feeling a bit unwell lately. It’s probably nothing.”

You helped him to a nearby chair, your hands trembling as you guided him down. But as soon as he sat, you noticed something terribly wrong. His face contorted with discomfort, his brows knitting together as a pained gasp escaped his lips.

His breathing grew shallow and labored, each breath a struggle that sent a jolt of fear through you. His hand moved to clutch his stomach, his fingers digging into the fabric of his coat as if trying to ward off an invisible agony. His skin glistened with sweat, and his once calm and steady demeanor was replaced by something raw and unsettling.

Before you could even react, his body suddenly slumped, going limp in the chair. The color drained from his face, his eyes fluttering shut as if the strength had been completely sapped from him. Panic surged through you like a bolt of lightning, your heart racing as you dropped to your knees beside him. “Kento!” you cried, your voice thick with fear, hands shaking as you desperately tried to rouse him. But he didn’t respond—his eyes remained closed, his body frighteningly still.

Frantically, you called out for help, your voice breaking as terror gripped you. The noise of the ballroom, once lively with chatter and laughter, fell into a stunned silence. The sudden shift in the atmosphere was palpable, as if the entire room had collectively held its breath, waiting to see what would happen next.

Satoru was among the first to arrive, his tall figure cutting through the crowd with an urgency that matched your own. His usual easygoing demeanor was nowhere to be seen; instead, his expression shifted from confusion to alarm as he took in the scene before him. His gaze darted between you and Nanami, the gravity of the situation sinking in as he knelt beside you, his own hands hovering over Nanami’s still form, unsure of what to do.

A doctor, who had been attending the event, quickly rushed over, pushing through the gathering crowd with a determined expression. You watched in desperate anticipation as the doctor knelt on Nanami’s other side, his fingers moving quickly to check for a pulse, to feel for any sign of life. His face grew increasingly grave as the seconds ticked by, his lips pressing into a thin line.

The minutes dragged on, each one feeling like an eternity as the doctor worked, his movements precise yet tinged with a growing sense of urgency. The room’s tension mirrored the heartache building within you, a crushing weight that threatened to overwhelm you. Every second that passed without a sign of improvement, every quiet murmur from the doctor that you couldn’t quite hear, only deepened the pit of dread in your stomach.

The once festive atmosphere of the ball had been completely shattered, replaced by a chilling silence that seemed to echo your worst fears. The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the cold, terrifying reality that the man you loved was slipping away, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

Finally, the doctor straightened, his expression sorrowful. “I’m afraid there’s nothing more I can do, your grace.” he said quietly. “Count Nanami is dead.”

The words struck you like a physical blow, leaving you momentarily paralyzed as their meaning sank in. It was as if the ground beneath your feet had been pulled out from under you, and you were left to freefall into a void of disbelief and despair.

You stared at Nanami’s lifeless form, his face pale and still, the strong and steady man you had known reduced to this fragile, unresponsive shell. It didn’t seem real—couldn’t be real. The vibrant world around you blurred, the colors bleeding into one another as your vision wavered. The music that had once filled the ballroom, the laughter that had echoed off the walls, now seemed like a distant, haunting memory from another life.

The sounds around you dulled, as if you were underwater, the cacophony of voices and gasps of disbelief fading into a muffled, indistinct hum. The air felt thick, suffocating, as if it were pressing down on your chest, making it difficult to breathe.

The reality of the situation was too much to comprehend, too overwhelming to process. Nanami, who had been so full of life just moments ago, was now gone. The finality of it was like a weight crushing your heart, and you felt as if you were being dragged into a darkness from which there was no escape.

Satoru placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, a gesture meant to offer solace, but it only deepened the emptiness that had settled in your chest. His touch, usually so warm and reassuring, felt hollow and distant, as if even he couldn’t bridge the chasm that had opened up between the life you had known and the unbearable reality you now faced.

You didn’t look up at him, couldn’t bear to see the reflection of your own grief in his eyes. Instead, you remained fixated on Nanami, your mind desperately trying to reject the truth, to find some way to undo what had just happened.

The guests, who had been caught up in the joy and excitement of the evening, were now stunned into silence. Their expressions of shock and somber concern mirrored the confusion and heartache you felt. The whispers began to spread through the room, a low murmur that grew in intensity as people tried to make sense of the tragedy that had unfolded before them.

The once celebratory atmosphere had been shattered, replaced by a palpable sense of unease and sorrow. The collective joy that had filled the ballroom had evaporated, leaving behind only the cold, stark reality of loss.

As you stood there, your mind spinning and your heart breaking, the world around you continued to move forward, indifferent to the pain you were experiencing. The echoes of the music and laughter that had once filled the room now seemed like cruel reminders of a happiness that had been irrevocably taken from you.

The life you had imagined with Nanami Kento, the future you had so carefully envisioned, was gone in an instant, leaving you adrift in a sea of grief and uncertainty. Nothing was left behind.

You clutched Nanami’s hand, tears streaming down your face. “No, cousin....I....I cannot....” you whispered to him. “This can’t be happening. He was just here. We were about to start our life together.”

Satoru’s voice was gentle but firm. “We need to get you out of here, you cannot stay here.” he said, guiding you away from the scene with a sense of urgency. “Come with me.”

As you were led out of the ballroom, your mind was a whirlwind of grief and disbelief. The promise of a future with Nanami had been abruptly stolen from you, leaving you with nothing but the crushing weight of loss. The vibrant night that had once held so much promise now felt like a cruel mockery, its joy eclipsed by the shadow of tragedy.

✧❁❁❁✧✿✿✿✧❁❁❁✧

YOU COULD NOT COPE WELL. Months had passed since Nanami’s tragic death, and despite the time that had elapsed, the ache in your heart remained as fresh as ever. The estate, once filled with the excitement of the engagement and the promise of a future, now seemed like a silent, mournful shell. Each day felt like an endless repetition of grief, with memories of Nanami lingering painfully in every corner.

Satoru, your cousin and now your closest family, had tried to coax you back to some semblance of normalcy. He encouraged you to attend social events, to engage with the world beyond the estate’s walls. But each time, you found yourself unable to muster the strength or the will. The world outside felt alien and unforgiving, a stark contrast to the warmth and hope you had once known with Nanami.

One evening, after yet another failed attempt to persuade you to join him for a dinner gathering, Satoru’s patience finally wore thin. His frustration, masked for so long, burst forth in an outburst that left you reeling.

“Why can’t you just move on?” he demanded, his voice sharp. “It’s been months. You can’t spend the rest of your life hiding away in this grief-stricken state.”

The words stung, and you felt a surge of anger and sadness collide within you. “You don’t understand,” you cried, tears streaming down your face. “You didn’t lose him. You don’t know what it’s like to have everything ripped away like that.”

Satoru’s expression softened, a flicker of regret in his eyes as he saw the depth of your pain. The harshness in his voice faded as he approached you, his demeanor shifting to one of concern and gentleness.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice now filled with an earnestness that cut through the earlier anger. “I didn’t mean to be so harsh. I’ve been trying to help, but I know I can’t truly understand your pain.”

He reached out, gently taking your hand and guiding you to a nearby armchair. His touch was soothing, a stark contrast to the emotional turmoil you were feeling. “Let me help you,” he said softly, kneeling beside you. “I know this is hard, but you don’t have to go through it alone.”

Satoru’s presence was a grounding force, his usual aloofness replaced by a sincere attempt to offer comfort. He poured a drink from a decanter on a nearby table, holding it out to you with a reassuring smile. “Here,” he said, “a little something to help calm your nerves.”

You accepted the drink, your hands trembling slightly. As you took a sip, the warmth of the liquor began to ease the tight knot of grief in your chest. Satoru settled beside you, his presence a steady anchor in the storm of your emotions.

He placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, the gesture tender and supportive. “I know it’s not the same as having Nanami here,” he said quietly, “but I’m here for you. We can get through this together, even if it takes time.”

You leaned into him, finding solace in his steady presence. The tears continued to flow, but amidst the sorrow, there was a small flicker of hope—hope that perhaps, with time and the support of those who cared for you, the heavy burden of grief might one day become a little lighter.

Satoru stayed with you, his hand resting gently on your back as you cried. In that moment, his support and understanding offered a sliver of comfort, a reminder that even in the depths of loss, there could be moments of compassion and connection.

The truth began to unravel slowly, almost imperceptibly. You had been grieving, struggling to find any semblance of normalcy, and trying to rebuild a life that seemed forever altered by Nanami’s death. Satoru, in his way, had been both a source of comfort and a persistent presence, urging you toward recovery. His support, once reassuring, began to feel increasingly intrusive, as though his concern masked something darker.

One evening, as you were going through some old letters and personal effects, a hidden compartment in one of Nanami’s personal belongings caught your attention. Inside, you found a stack of letters and documents that seemed out of place. As you sifted through them, a particular letter stood out—a letter from Nanami to you, written shortly before his death. Its contents were cryptic and filled with a sense of unease that made your heart race.

The letter spoke of suspicions of being watched, of a growing sense of danger, and a mention of a mysterious figure who had been lingering in the shadows. That evil forces were coming, investigated by the Crown. That he was a blue shadow, a dark shadow. You put the letter down, your chest tightening.

The pieces of the puzzle began to click together in your mind, and a chilling realization dawned on you. Satoru, he...he was called the Queen's Blue Ghost. That was what he does for the Crown. You bit the lower edges of your lip. You could feel your legs losing strength as you grabbed the table to balance yourself.

You shake your head, almost as though you were in denial. It can't be. Your cousin....He would not. He promised, that he would always be good to you. To everyone. He, he can't be.

Desperate for answers, you confronted Satoru, your heart pounding with a mix of fear and anger. You cornered him in his private study, your voice trembling as you demanded the truth. He raised his head and smiled at you. But quickly, that retreated the moment he saw that look on your face.

"Cousin, is something wrong? Dearest one, you are agitated. You must—"

“Satoru, please.” you said, trying to keep your composure. “I require your honesty. Please. I need to know the truth."

"Whatever about? I have always been honest with you."

"Not on everything. And you know this. I know this."

"Dearest cousin, calm down—"

"What really happened to Nanami Kento? About the others. How many? How many others did you hurt?"

Satoru’s face, usually so controlled, betrayed a flicker of something dark and unsettling. He stepped closer to you, his eyes gleaming with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. The moment you said his name, the moment it all snapped. You could feel your heart pound as he corners you, traps you, in his vicinity. You swallow the bile down your throat.

“The truth, you say?” he replied, his voice smooth but laced with a dangerous edge. “I’m afraid you might not like it, cousin. I fear I might upset you. And....that is out of the question."

You took a step back, the fear overwhelming you. “What did you do? I know you had something to do with it. Did you poison him?”

A cold smile spread across Satoru’s lips. “You’ve been more perceptive than I gave you credit for,” he said softly. “Yes, I was responsible. But it was all for you, my dear cousin.”

The words struck you like a blow. “For me? What are you talking about?”

Satoru’s gaze softened, but the malice beneath it was unmistakable. “I’ve always been in love with you. Even when we were children, I was captivated by you. Everything I did, every action I took, was driven by my desire to have you for myself. And I do not care, how many suffers for it. That lowly count, those pesky tattletales. I do not care, cousin. As long as I have you. ”

The enormity of his confession hit you with a force that left you reeling. “You killed my Kento… just to have me? Do you....do you know how derange that is? How could you? How could you do this to me?”

He stepped closer, his voice a whisper that was both chilling and intimate. “No one else could ever be right for you but me. I couldn’t bear the thought of anyone else taking you away from me. Nanami was an obstacle, and I removed him to clear the path for us.”

Horrified and desperate, you tried to flee, but Satoru’s reflexes were swift. He grabbed your arm with a strength that was both frightening and unyielding. You struggled against him, but his grip only tightened as he pulled you close. Your heart pounded, and tears streamed down your face as you realized the extent of his obsession.

“Let me go!” you cried, your voice breaking with desperation. “I can’t be with you. Not after this.”

Satoru held you tightly, his arms encircling you in a possessive embrace. “No,” he said firmly, his voice unyielding. “You belong with me. I’ve waited too long for this moment, and I won’t let anyone—least of all you—deny what’s meant to be.”

His words, though tender in their own twisted way, were laced with a darkness that left you feeling trapped and helpless. You could see the unshakable resolve in his eyes, the certainty that he was the only one who could provide the life he believed you deserved.

“I did it all for you, dearest one.” Satoru continued, his tone a mix of reverence and obsession. “Everything I did, every sacrifice, was to ensure that we could be together. You’ll see, in time, that no one else can care for you the way I do.”

It was as though for a moment, your memories echoed. That boy Satoru was, the distant and aloof boy you had looked up to, chased after — he was not there anymore. All that’s left is a monster. A monster who believed that loving you meant hurting you. Tears fell as you remember the boy he was. 

The large, sunlit gardens were a backdrop to a series of memories, each one highlighting the contrast between your vibrant, spirited nature and Satoru’s reserved, emotionless disposition. 

You were only six years old when you first encountered Satoru’s indifference. He was sitting alone in a secluded corner of the garden, surrounded by books and sketches, seemingly lost in a world of his own. His silver hair gleamed in the sunlight, but his eyes, hidden behind dark glasses even then, were as cold and distant as the surrounding shadows.

Despite his aloofness, you were determined to reach out to him. You approached him with a bright smile, holding a daisy you had picked from the garden. “Satoru,” you called out, “would you like to play with me?”

He glanced up briefly, his expression unreadable. “I’m busy,” he replied curtly, his voice lacking warmth.

Undeterred, you sat down next to him, placing the daisy on his sketchpad. “But it’s such a nice day! Don’t you want to come outside and enjoy it?”

He stared at the daisy, then at you, a flicker of something—perhaps curiosity or irritation—crossing his face. “I don’t see the point in playing,” he said, turning his attention back to his sketches.

You persisted, your enthusiasm unwavering. “It’s not just about playing. It’s about having fun and being together. We can make up a story about the garden and pretend we’re explorers!”

“I don’t want to.” He whispered.

You pout. “But that’s no fun!”

As a young girl, you were determined to break through Satoru’s emotional barriers. One sunny afternoon in the grand estate’s garden, you devised a simple, yet heartfelt plan. You had spent the morning picking a variety of wildflowers, their vibrant colors brightening your small wicker basket. You were excited to surprise Satoru, who was once again immersed in his books and sketches in his usual secluded spot.

The garden was alive with the hum of bees and the soft rustling of leaves, and the sunlight filtered through the trees, casting playful shadows on the ground. You spotted Satoru sitting against a large oak tree, his focus intensely fixed on his work. With a smile, you approached him quietly, careful not to disturb his concentration.

“Satoru,” you called softly, holding up the flower crown you had made. It was a simple creation, woven from a mix of daisies, buttercups, and clover. The flowers were arranged in a delicate, colorful circle, their petals still fresh and dewy from the morning sun.

He looked up from his sketchpad, his expression as indifferent as ever, but a hint of curiosity sparkled in his eyes. “What’s that?” he asked, his tone more inquisitive than dismissive.

You knelt beside him, holding the flower crown out. “It’s a gift for you.” you said cheerfully. “I made it just for you. I thought you might like to wear it.”

Satoru’s usual aloofness seemed to falter as he took in the sight of the flower crown. There was a brief flicker of surprise in his eyes, a momentary break in his emotional armor. He looked at the crown, then back at you, clearly unsure of how to react.

Without waiting for his response, you gently placed the flower crown on his head, adjusting it carefully so that it sat comfortably. Your fingers brushed against his hair, and you beamed at him with an innocent, genuine smile.

“There!” you said, stepping back to admire your handiwork. “Now you have a crown fit for a king.”

Satoru’s initial reaction was one of shock, his mouth slightly agape as he touched the delicate flowers with hesitant fingers. The corners of his mouth twitched, and for a brief moment, you saw a rare, genuine smile break through his usually stoic expression. It was a fleeting, but unmistakable, expression of delight.

He looked up at you, his eyes softer than they had ever been. “You made this for me?” he asked, his voice betraying a hint of warmth that was seldom present.

“Yes, cousin!” you replied, your eyes sparkling with happiness. “I wanted to do something nice for you. I thought it might brighten your day.”

Satoru’s gaze lingered on you, and you could see the conflicted emotions playing across his face. The flower crown, so simple and yet so heartfelt, seemed to have touched him in a way you hadn’t anticipated. He looked away, his expression growing contemplative.

“It’s… nice.” he said quietly, a hint of genuine appreciation in his tone. “Thank you.”

You smiled, pleased with his reaction. “I’m glad you like it, cousin!” you said, reaching out to gently touch the crown. “I hope it makes you smile.”

As you walked away, you felt a sense of accomplishment. You had managed to break through Satoru’s emotional wall, if only for a moment, and the sight of him wearing the flower crown was a memory you would cherish. Little did you know that this simple act of kindness would become a significant, albeit bittersweet, part of your lives.

The contrast between the boy who had once been so distant and the man who now held you captive was stark and painful. The memories of your childhood—the times you had tried so hard to reach out to him, to bridge the gap that had always seemed to exist between you—now echoed in your mind like a cruel mockery.

Those moments, once filled with innocent hope and longing, now served as a haunting reminder of how drastically things had deteriorated. The boy who had seemed unreachable, who you had thought might one day come around, had instead grown into someone who was both terrifyingly close and dangerously unrecognizable.

As you struggled in his arms, the harsh reality of your situation became all too clear. Satoru’s love, which had once been a source of warmth and comfort, had twisted into something dark and all-consuming. The affection that had once made you feel safe was now a prison, its walls closing in around you with every passing second.

The realization that his love had warped into an obsession sent chills down your spine, and the fear that gripped your heart was unlike anything you had ever known. You had always known Satoru was different, that there was something in him that set him apart, but never had you imagined that his feelings for you could turn into something so possessive, so terrifying.

His grip on you was unrelenting, his arms a cage that you knew you could not break free from. No matter how hard you struggled, how desperately you tried to push him away, his hold only tightened. There was no trace of the gentle boy you had known in his eyes now—only the cold, determined gaze of a man who would not be denied.

As he held you close, you could feel the weight of his obsession pressing down on you, suffocating you with its intensity. The warmth that had once drawn you to him had been replaced by a chilling darkness, and the love that had once been your sanctuary had become the source of your greatest fear.

A profound sense of betrayal and loss settled over you, heavy and unyielding. The man who had once been your closest confidant, your protector, had now become the architect of your greatest sorrow.

The trust you had placed in him, the bond you had thought unbreakable, had been shattered beyond repair. The future you had dreamed of, filled with hope and happiness, was now overshadowed by the bleak reality of his possessive love.

In that moment, as you were held captive in his arms, you understood with a heartbreaking clarity that the Satoru you had known was gone, replaced by someone you could no longer recognize.

The boy who had once been distant, yet filled with potential, had become a man whose love had turned into a dark obsession, and the life you had once envisioned was now lost to the shadows of his twisted affection.

“I waited so long for this day, to have you free from the nuns, from the watchful eyes of the church, from anyone who would keep you from me." He whispered. “And I had to deal with that pest, that lowly pathetic count. All of those who wanted to steal you from me!”

The air in the room thickened as he stepped closer, his breath brushing against your skin. You knew what he wanted, what he had always wanted. It was written in the way he looked at you, the way his fingers twitched as if resisting the urge to reach out and claim you right then and there.

But you were no longer a child, no longer the naive girl who would blindly follow where he led. You were a Duchess now, with power of your own, and you would not be so easily consumed by the flames of his obsession.

Yet, as his hand finally found its way to your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze, you couldn’t help but feel the pull. The twisted, sick desire that mirrored his own, the yearning to give in to the darkness that had always lurked beneath the surface of your soul.

"You will be mine, cousin." Gojo whispered, his lips hovering above yours. "Whether you like it or not."

You were drawn to him, as you had been as a child. The way he moved, the way he spoke—it He reached for you, his hands rough yet strangely tender as they cupped your face, his grip firm and unyielding.

Before you could react, his lips crashed against yours with a force that stole your breath. You struggled, tried to push him away, but he was stronger—much stronger. Your fists pounded weakly against his chest, a futile attempt to break free from the iron hold he had on you.

Tears welled up in your eyes, spilling down your cheeks as you felt the helplessness of the situation, the weight of his obsession bearing down on you. But even as your mind screamed in protest, there was a part of you that responded to his touch, a dark, twisted part that had long been buried beneath years of repression.

His hands roamed over your body with a fervor that mirrored the storm brewing inside you, fingers tracing the curves of your form as if memorizing every inch. He pulled you closer, his embrace tightening until there was no space left between your bodies, the heat of his desire searing through your clothes, igniting a fire deep within you.

You hated yourself for the way your body betrayed you, for the way your heart raced not only with fear but with a sick anticipation. You could feel the hunger in his touch, the same hunger that had lurked within you, hidden and denied for so long. 

Gojo’s lips trailed down your neck, leaving a burning path in their wake, his breath hot against your skin. His words were a whispered promise, laced with a dark possessiveness that sent shivers down your spine.

"You can’t escape me, cousin." he murmured against your throat, his voice thick with desire. "I’ve waited too long, dreamed of this moment for too many nights. You’re mine now, and I’ll never let you go."

His hands slipped beneath the fabric of your dress, fingertips grazing the sensitive skin beneath as he explored with an urgency that left no room for doubt. You gasped, the sound caught between a sob and something else, something far more dangerous.

As his touch grew bolder, you realized with a sickening clarity that no matter how hard you fought, no matter how many tears you shed, you were losing yourself to him. The line between love and hate, between desire and fear, blurred until it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.

Gojo pulled back just enough to look into your tear-streaked face, his eyes darkened with a twisted satisfaction. His thumb brushed away the tears that still fell, a cruel smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Don’t cry, my dearest." he whispered, his voice laced with mockery and something softer, something almost tender. "You’ll learn to love this, to love me, just as I’ve always loved you."

And as his lips claimed yours once more, the last vestiges of your resistance crumbled, swallowed whole by the darkness that he had nurtured within you, until all that was left was the Duchess who belonged to the Duke—no matter the cost.

[boopshoops]

Common sense doesn't feel all that common when coming from a fella such as this.

template by ai-kan1! dividers here! sound on :)

Alias: Creek

Nickname(s): Cricket, Piranha

Gender: Xenogender

Pronouns: Any with they/it preference (they>it). Also prefers masculine language/titles (i.e. lad, mister, sir, etc.)

Sexuality: Unlabeled

Birthday: June 1 (Gemini)

Age: Somewhere close to 200, they've stopped counting

Height: 5'8 or 172cm, though the height of the doll is adjustable.

Voice Claim(s): Yuri Lowenthal, Keiichi Nanba

Twisted From: Jiminy Cricket

Unique Magic: None! It's magicless.

Job: Playful Land Owner

Hobbies: Terrarium making, architecture, entrepreneurship, bug collecting, raising bug colonies, reading, violin, creating soundscapes, fashion.

Likes: Bugs, spiders, nature, Italian roulade, their doll body, cricket song, old locomotives, leaving large impressions on others, seclusion.

Dislikes: Existentialism, extreme pessimism, extended periods of boredom, drawing in an unwanted crowd, unrewarded extended efforts.

Fears: Being completely numb, feeling nothing, being stuck in one place for too long.

Summary: The eccentric yet secluded benefactor of Playful Land, both feared and loved by many for their charities. The owner is known for exploring many different business ventures, to the point where their company is behind a startlingly large amount of big names and faces. It's been around for a suspiciously long amount of time... at least others find it suspicious, Creek's lifespan isn't that much of a secret to their close circle... that circle mostly consisting of a bunch of insects, but still.

Creek, evidently, is more so focused on doing their own thing and finding constant sources of emotion rather than living up to the standards their business has risen to. After all, once you reach the top, it has to find out just what else life has in store for them. That, and what life has in store for others. Whether that is dangerous or not is up to you, long as you stay on your toes.

Playful Land's owner is known among their hires - even in avenues outside the amusement park - as being oddly generous, if not even incredibly intelligent. Guidance is something they are almost always willing to offer, in any topic or field. Don't get it wrong, though. They're not kind or overtly rude. What you see is what you get, even if it gets you sent straight to hell. Thems the facts, lad.

CHARACTER PLAYLIST - CREATION STORY - DEATH STORY

Author's note: koisdghdosieeee theyre so sillayyy! theyre just sooo sillay guys trust me guys its just a sillay lil geek mk! wym they abandoned isola and stole whats practically her skeleton. what could u posibly mean i jhave no idea what you're talking about :) they just like little critters theyve never done anything wrong no human trafficking into labour here noooooooooooooooooooooooooo pal!!!!!! perfectly legal lived a perfectly normal amount of time totally is NOT a peepaw and has not fed ANYONE to their massive supply of crickets.

anyway ernesto/fellow bombing their giantass ship was the most entertaining thing thats happened to them in a decade <3

mr. "why are you charging those two for the destruction of the park" "i just wanted to see what would happen lol" Creek

Tag list :)

@skriblee-ksk @lowcallyfruity @justm3di0cr3 @kitwasnothere @cecilebutcher

@distant-velleity @thehollowwriter @techno-danger @scint1llat3 @the-trinket-witch

@beneathsakurashade @kathxrat-01 @qsoap @twsted-canvas @prince-kallisto

@gimmeurmoneyagh @tixdixl @sillyslipperybananapeel @twstinginthewind