#the rating will change to 'mature' next chapter

[itsgeecheebitch]

Until Darkness Descends

FANDOM: Final Fantasy XV

PAIRING: Ardyn x Aera/reader (you are Aera, loosely based off of Aera Mirus Fleuret)

RATING: Teen

SERIES: The Fall Part 1 of 4

CHAPTER: 5

            You leaned against the balcony railing in your guest room and stared at the view. The sleepless city was illuminated by a myriad of colorful lights, flickering and glowing like tiny stars. Meanwhile the night sky remained empty and void. It was as though the celestial beacons were dragged down to Eos, leaving the heavens shrouded in darkness. Only the moon remained. It stood sentinel over the busy city and painted your otherwise dark room in pale milky light. 

           The duffle bag you brought with you was on the bed, still stuffed full with the clothing you had no intention of unpacking. You weren’t going to stay here for long anyway. In fact, you planned to leave tonight. Your duffle bag was ready and you still had the clothes on your back from earlier today. The only thing you needed was a way out. As you stared down at the long stretch of space between your balcony and the ground below, you knew climbing or jumping down was out of the question. 

             Before you could wrack your brain for more ideas, you felt the air shift. “Leaving so soon?” Came a familiar mellifluous voice from behind you. 

         “Uncle Ardyn? What are you doing here?” You asked.

        “Visiting a dear friend, of course.” He answered. “As well as to congratulate you on your new position”

          You frowned. “How do you know about that?” How did he even know you would be in Insomnia? You haven't seen the older man in a few weeks, let alone earlier today. There was no logical explanation for him knowing about the invitation as well as the proposal.

          “I have my ways.” Ardyn answered cryptically. Now that you thought about it, he always knew where to find you and he would always appear at the most opportune moments, usually whenever you needed him or anyone else to talk to. A nagging sense of dread forced the hair at the back of your neck to stand. You trusted uncle Ardyn but something felt off about all of these encounters that you’ve never considered before. But before that nagging feeling could take root, you took a deep breath and forced yourself to relax. This was uncle Ardyn. You have known him since you were five years old. You love him and trust him, sure he is a bit strange and would always appear out of nowhere, but that didn’t mean anything malevolent. Perhaps his magic makes him more intune to your emotions, allowing him to come to your aid whenever you need him. But that still didn’t explain away how he would know where to find you.  “Now, I may not be one to stand on ceremony but such an occasion as this calls for a celebration, don’t you agree?”

        “No…I don’t want to be here.” You answered truthfully. 

         His amber eyes softened. “It's your home you yearn for, isn’t it?”

         You nodded your head when an idea came to you. “Do you think you could take me there?”

          Ardyn hummed at the request. Perhaps this could be an alternative to his original plan. He truly had no real desire to kill you. You were sweet and kind and full of so much life, he wanted to bask in your light for a little while longer. Stealing you away just might be the next best option. He could take you to the heart of the empire, somewhere far away from the chosen king. But what of the gods? Surely they wouldn’t allow you to part from Noctis for long if your presence was truly needed to fulfill the prophecy. 

         He sighed wearily. It was probably inevitable that you would find your way back to Insomnia, back to prince Noctis’ side. The only way to keep that scenario from happening is to kill you.  Ardyn suddenly found his mouth to be too dry. “Of course, my dear.” He said before giving you a smile, one he hoped felt real enough to assuage your inquiring mind as well as silence the doubts within his own. “But before we depart, it would be such a shame to allow this cider to go to waste.”

        “Cider?”

         With a wave of his hand a bottle of apple cider appeared in his grasp, accompanied by two empty golden goblets. “Sparkling apple juice. It is to your liking, yes?”

          You answered yes and Ardyn handed you a cup. The amber liquid bubbled and fizzed as he filled your cup before doing the same to his. He clanked his cup against yours with a gentle, “cheers”, and brought the goblet to his lips. He watched as you mimicked his movements, bringing the cup to your lips. To grant you a peaceful death didn’t take much thought on his part. After finding out your purpose, he plucked a bulb of nightshade from Verstael Besithia’s garden back in Gralea and laced the cider with it. The poison from the plant works swiftly as well as painlessly, easing its victim into a dreamless sleep before gradually killing them in a matter of minutes. 

        You tilted the cup but before Ardyn could witness you consume the poison, he was suddenly plucked out of reality. First there was darkness, impenetrable and all consuming before a deluge of light burst through the dark and bathed his new surroundings in color.  Shades of blue light illuminated the void. There was a smattering of stars here and there where the light didn’t reach and Ardyn knew where he was instantly. How could he possibly forget this wretched place? His eyes scanned the empty space before they fell upon the being whose very presence ignited a raging fire in his core. 

         Ardyn gritted his teeth so hard he thought they would crack. “What is it now?” He hissed. 

         “You know why thou hast been summoned.” The god said, the thunderous boom of his voice echoed across the void. “The child has been chosen to serve an important role in what has been ordained, a role thou is not permitted to disturb.”

          Ardyn scoffed, “I wonder what role that may be. Could it be you’ve misjudged the capabilities of your chosen champion, so much so that you must rely on the aid of a new contender?” 

        “To aid the chosen king in his quest is not her true calling. Her purpose is to thee. She will serve as the catalysis to bring forth your salvation.” Bahamut revealed.

        “My salvation?” Ardyn asked. This felt eerily reminiscent of his previous encounter with the apathetic god. So much so that he could already feel the god's inequitable decree in his bones before the words were even uttered. Just like last time, Ardyn knew Bahamut's words would be life altering, soul crushing, and final. And just like last time Ardyn was prepared to rebel, even if that meant getting tortured by Aera's likeness all over again.

        “Amidst the darkest hour, she shall serve as a beacon of light and drive away the darkness that distorted thy heart.” Bahamut explained. “Once the girl revives the part of thee that remains unmarred by the dark, thou shalt finally be free of the scourge’s influence and power, in time for thy departure from this world. That shall be your salvation.” 

         That flame in Ardyn's core burst into a full blown forest fire, incinerating all rational thought until all he could see was red. He could kill him. His fingernails stabbed into the flesh of his palm with the need to tear into the god until Bahamut was nothing but a bloody disfigured heap of flesh. Ardyn gritted his teeth and this time he was sure they were bleeding. He could honestly laugh at the absurdity of his circumstances, stripped of his calling and condemned to two millennia of suffering, only to be made a sacrificial pawn and ordained to be weakened by a cheap copy of his late wife, all to make the duty of slaying him easier on the chosen king. And Bahamut had the audacity to call this salvation. 

         His eyes narrowed into slits. An inferno resided in his veins, scorching him from the inside out but his anger never wavered. “I have no use for your salva-” His center of gravity collapsed and he was falling through the void. With a violent jolt, he opened his eyes to find himself back inside your guest room. You were still holding the goblet to your lips mid-sip, frozen in time for only a fraction of a second before time resumed and he watched as you gulped down the liquid. You finished with a satisfied "ah" and looked up at him.

         “That was really good.” You said, wiping your mouth with your sleeve. “Are you ready to go now?” Ardyn observed you. Your eyes were sharp with crystal clarity, your hands weren’t clammy or shaking, and you didn’t appear seconds away from collapsing. You were completely fine, as though you didn’t just consume Eos’ most dangerous poison. 

       Ardyn hummed. It seemed you were truly under the gods’ veil of protection. They won’t let any life threatening harm befall you, at least not until the day of reckoning, but no matter. Ardyn knew from experience how easy it is to fall out of the gods’ favor. You won’t be any different, he will make sure of that. 

      “I’m afraid not, my dear.” Ardyn said.

      Your face instantly fell. “B-but you said you would take me!” You whined.

       “That I did, at least during a moment of forgetfulness. The roads are quite perilous after dark. It wouldn’t be wise to spirit you away just yet, not with all daemons prowling about at this late hour.” He said and that seemed to appease you a bit. Your shoulders drooped forward and you fiddled with the empty goblet in your hands but you didn’t complain. 

        You were a sensible girl despite being so young. His Aera was like that too, she was far more reasonable than he was when they were children, much like how you are now. Ardyn had to look away from you. The uncanny similarities between you and her made his heart ache, but those similarities weren't real. You weren’t real. You were just a doppelganger, fashioned by the gods’ with his Aera’s likeness, for the intended purpose of aiding in his destruction. 

        He refused to let those heartless bastards win. Ardyn didn’t care what he must do, he will make you lose the god’s protection even if that means destroying you. 

       “Okay…” You said suddenly, turning towards him with your pinkie finger extended. “But pinkie promise you’ll take me there in the morning.”

       “How about this,” Ardyn started, curling his hand around yours and lowering your pinkie, “give your stay another few days before you make a final decision. If the royal court is not to your liking, then I will personally escort you back to your beloved home.” He promised when the idea came to him. That is exactly what Ardyn should do, must do, destroy you. Break you, turn you into a shell of your former self. The gods’ have no use for a broken tool and will discard you the same as they did to him. 

       You wrinkled your nose before shimmying your hand out of his grasp. “Hmm…promise?” You asked, extending your pinkie once more.

        Ardyn cracked a smile despite himself and curled his pinkie around yours. “Cross my heart and hope to die, or so they say.” But perhaps he doesn’t have to set his plans for you into motion just yet. There will be time in the future after the fall of Insomnia for that. After all, Ardyn doesn’t want the gods to catch wind of his plan and put a stop to it before it could begin. He could use these years to fool the gods, cultivate your trust and adoration for him and make the gods think their plans are unfolding the way they intended for them to. Once the time comes, he will destroy that illusion and show the gods he cannot be so easily manipulated by a mere copy of his late wife. Once you are thoroughly broken and without the gods’ protection, he will kill you. 

[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.

[littlebluebird2000]

Twirling Hearts- part 3

pairing: yeon si-eun x reader (female reader)

rating: 18+

genre: romance, smut

warnings: overprotective sieun, school bullying, discussion about food and weight, violence, harassment, smut, mature language, sexual harassment/assault, slow-burn, jealousy, baku always being at the scene of the crime...

summary: Who would've thought that a ballerina and the school's most feared nerd would complete each other so well? Being the new student was never easy-especially not when you were the only girl transferring into an all-boys school. To make matters worse, Eunjang High has a reputation for having its fair share of troublemakers. Some of the rumors were enough to make anyone second-guess stepping through those front gates…

author's note: this chapter contains sexual content. if you are not comfortable with that, it's okay, i'll see you in the next story. changed up the cover because i felt like it :)

word count: 7k+

follow #bluebirdyeonsieun for updates on the story. for some reason, my tags aren't working :(

part : 1. , 2. , 3. , 4., 5

The stage lights dimmed, and your final pose held steady as the music faded. The applause were thunderous, echoing in your chest like a second heartbeat. You were breathless, but not just from the dance—from the rush of finally performing the piece you’d poured everything into.

Backstage, the adrenaline still buzzed through your veins as you pulled off your pointe shoes and smoothed your hair back. When you stepped out into the hallway, your friends were already there—Baku and Gotak cheering loudly, Juntae clapping with a smile, and Sieun… standing a little apart. His hands are in the pockets of his dark jacket, his posture calm, his hair a little messy like he’s been fidgeting with it.

"You were incredible," Juntae said kindly, when you approached.

"Like, no kidding. You were floating!" Gotak added, eyes wide. “Not to be rude, but I never thought I would enjoy a ballet.” You thanked them, laughing a little bit, feeling flushed and grateful.

Baku handed you a bouquet, wrapped in pastel tissue paper. It came from all of them.

“You absolutely killed it, Y/N! That one spin—you know the one—crazy.” You smiled.

You glance toward Sieun, half expecting him to look away like he usually might, but he doesn’t. His gaze stays on you, steady and unreadable, and it makes your stomach twist in a way you’re not prepared for. You suddenly feel shy, clutching the flowers in your hands a little tighter. “You were… really good.” He finally said.

You raise a brow, teasing. “Just really good?”

There’s the smallest shift in his mouth. Not quite a smile, but the kind of expression that says more than it shows. His eyes sparkled a little bit. Happiness. “You looked like you belonged up there.” He added softly.

You could feel your heart tug at the sincerity in his voice. “Thank you.”

He gives a slight nod, but his eyes stay on yours for a beat longer, something warm and unreadable in them. He then glanced away, his hand rising to the back of his neck as if he could rub away the tension building there.

Behind you, Baku makes a noise—something between a groan and a laugh. While the others broke into light chatter again, he leaned close to your ear, his voice low and amused. “He didn’t say much.” He whispered, “But he watched the whole thing like he was afraid to blink. Wouldn’t stop staring. His face was red for half the performance.”

You turned your head to him, but Baku had already straightened up, grinning innocently like nothing had happened.

You glanced at Sieun again, who was now pretending to be distracted by the recital program in his hands. The tips of his ears were indeed pink. You smiled silently to yourself, celebrating this small victory.

You take a second to look at them—each one. The faces that showed up for you. The people who made this night feel less terrifying, less like a test, and more like something to be proud of. You didn’t know this kind of friendship was possible when you first walked into Eunjang. You weren’t looking for it. But it found you anyway—in small gestures, in loyalty, in shared moments like this.

A warmth spreads through your chest. Thank you, you think, but it’s not just for tonight. It’s for everything that’s brought you to this point. For them. For Sieun. And for the unexpected comfort you’ve found along the way.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

The night air was bustling with energy as you step outside the theatre, the crowd from the performance spilling out onto the streets. The breeze ruffled your skirt and a shiver passed through you. Families gather, taking pictures, congratulating their children and loved ones, the laughter and chatter blending with the hum of voices.

"Y/N." Juntae’s voice cuts through the noise, and you turn to see him looking around. "Where are your parents? They didn’t come?" The question is casual, like he’s just making conversation, but you feel that familiar twist in your stomach.

“They couldn’t make it tonight.” You said. There was a pause, the kind that usually came with sympathy or concern, but you spoke again before anyone could offer it. “I’m not upset or anything.” You added, adjusting the bouquet in your arms. “It was actually kind of nice. Less pressure.”

Sieun didn’t say anything, but something flickered across his face. It was understanding.

Baku clapped a hand on your shoulder, light and casual. “Their loss. You were amazing.”

“I was thinking… If you guys aren’t busy, do you want to come over at my place? Just to hangout?” You said, casually.

Baku lit up. “Yeah, I’m in—”

Then his eyes cut to Sieun.

He blinked once. And then—

“Oh… wait.”

It was tiny, the shift in his voice—but it was there. His posture changed. His tone got lighter. Too casual. Sieun caught it instantly. His jaw ticked. He turned slowly to look at Baku with a deadpan face.

Baku threw an arm around Juntae’s shoulders. “We can’t go. We have something planned.”

Juntae blinked. “We do?”

Baku tightened his grip. “ You know—the thing. We’ve got that super important thing.”

Gotak looked confused. “Uh? What thing?”

“The thing,” Baku repeated, giving Juntae a look that screamed please say something.

Juntae nodded too hard. “Yeah, totally. That big group… uh… charity assignment.”

Sieun exhaled through his nose.

Gotak frowned. “Charity assignment?”

“Yeah, we’re giving… our time,” Juntae said, clearly making it up as he went.

You raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. Sieun didn’t say anything. He only rolled his eyes—barely, but it was there—and looked away like this entire conversation was physically hurting him.

“Volunteering? At 9PM? On a Friday night?” You asked, eyes narrowing.

Baku’s smile twitched. “Yeah. It’s a… night shift.”

Gotak looked between them, puzzled. “Wait, are you including me in that? I didn’t sign up for anything.”

Baku smiled brightly. “You did, actually.”

“Uh?”

“You volunteered.” Baku added. “Last week.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“Well, you did.” Baku said firmly.

Gotak frowned. “I just wanted to go to Y/N’s.”

“And that’s noble,” Baku said, already guiding him away. “But the community need you more.”

Juntae gave a little wave and the three of them disappeared down the sidewalk. Gotak’s confused protests faded with distance.

Sieun didn’t look at you. He was still staring in the direction they’d gone, expressionless. “He thinks he’s clever.”

You smiled, a little amused, a little shy. “But you’re still coming over, right?”

He finally looked at you. “Of course.”

You nodded once, small and sure. “Good.”

You smile softly, a sense of relief washing over you at his words. The tension between you both seems to ease, just a little. Sieun follows beside you, the quiet between you both comfortable now. His presence, as always, is calming, but there’s something different tonight. A softness in the way he walks, in the way he occasionally glances at you from the corner of his eye.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

The apartment was dimly lit, washed in the soft gold of a standing lamp in the corner. You kicked off your shoes and set the bouquet down on the kitchen counter, glancing back to see Sieun still lingering at the doorway, hands in his pockets, his gaze cautious as it swept over the space.

“Make yourself at home,” you said, offering a small smile as you padded toward the kitchen. “It’s a bit messy. I didn’t really have time to clean before the performance.”

“It’s fine.” he said, stepping inside.

You rose onto the tip of your toes, fingers grazing the top shelf of the cabinet as you searched for a vase. Nothing. Just an empty row of mugs and glasses. After a pause, you reached for a clear pitcher instead. “I should get these in water quickly.” You said, voice low as you filled the jug at the sink. The water rushed quietly, echoing in the silence between you. You carefully loosened the wrapping around the stems and arranged the bouquet in the pitcher, your fingers brushing across the soft petals.

When you turned around, Sieun was standing in the middle of the room, looking out of place but oddly endearing, like he didn’t know what to do with his hands.

“Want to sit?” You offered, gesturing to the couch.

He gave a small nod and walked over, settling stiffly at the far end. You poured two glasses of water and joined him, setting them down on the table between you. A quiet moment stretched, neither of you speaking.

“You’re really okay with your parents not coming?” He asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

“Yes… and no.” You said honestly. You turned toward him, leaning your elbow on the backrest. “I’m sad they didn’t make the effort.. I’m angry, too. I fought so hard to get into this ballet academy—because my mom wanted it so badly—and now she doesn’t even bother to show up. Not even a good luck text.” You exhaled. “But in a weird way, I’m glad. I didn’t have their pressure hanging over me. I could just focus on the performance. So yeah… I was sad, but I wasn’t at the same time… If that makes any sense.”

“It does.” He said quietly. He hesitated, then asked, “Do you even like dancing?”

“Lucky for Mom, I do.” You gave a small laugh. “Not as obsessively as she’d like, but yeah—I love it.”

“Well,” He began, visibly swallowing. “You’re… really good at it.” His voice was soft, almost flat, but underneath it was something uncertain.

“Oh. Thank you.” You blinked, surprised by the sudden compliment. You looked down, fiddling with the hem of your skirt.

“You looked…” His voice drifted, and he stopped. His hands tightened slightly on his knees.

You glanced at him. His face was half-shadowed in the lamplight, jaw tense with a subtle flicker of nerves.

“It’s okay,” You said gently. “You can say it. I won’t laugh.”

“Pretty.” He murmured, barely louder than a breath. “Really pretty.”

Your breath caught. You smiled down for a moment, then looked up at him, heart fluttering.

“You’re sweet.” You said , the words slipping out more quietly than you meant them to. You smiled shyly, eyes lowering as warmth crept into your cheeks.

He blinked. “Me? Sweet?”

There was no sarcasm in his voice—just genuine confusion, like it wasn’t something he’d ever considered. “No one’s ever called me that.”

You looked up at him, eyes warm, a quiet fondness in your expression. “Maybe they just don’t know you that well.”

For a moment, you hesitated. Then—quietly, deliberately—you scooted closer, closing the space between you by just a few inches. It wasn’t much, but it felt like everything.

Sieun’s breath hitched. You noticed the way his spine stiffened, then relaxed again, like he didn’t know what to do with the sudden closeness. His eyes flicked down, then back up—searching your face, uncertain but not pulling away.

Your knees nearly touched.

You could feel his warmth now, that quiet, steady presence of him. His hand shifted slightly on his knee, fingers twitching like he almost wanted to reach out but didn’t know how.

“Are you nervous?” You asked, teasing, but only a little. You didn’t know where your sudden boldness came from, but you were glad for it at the moment.

His eyes flicked to yours. “A little,” He admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “You make me nervous.”

You smiled—shy, surprised, and something more. “Good,” you said. “You make me nervous too.”

He inhaled sharply through his nose, the sound enough to make your pulse race. You glanced down at his hand, still curled tensely on his knee, the tips of his fingers twitching.

Carefully, you let your hand slide just slightly—until your pinky brushed against his. Just a touch. Barely there. He froze. His fingers were cold and a little stiff at first, but they didn’t pull away. You held your breath, unsure if you’d gone too far—but then, slowly, his fingers slid into yours—tentative, clumsy, like he was afraid he might do it wrong. His hand was warm, just a little shaky, and he held on like he didn’t quite believe it was happening.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” You said quietly.

His voice was even softer. “Me too.”

Sieun still hadn’t looked away. He was holding your gaze now, like he was finally letting you see all the things he’d kept locked behind silence. But even now, you could feel it—he was holding back. Not because he didn’t want to move closer, but because he was scared to cross that invisible line.

Slowly, you leaned in, just enough for him to feel your breath. His eyes widened, but he didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull back.

"I know you won’t do anything unless I do it first." You said quietly, voice low and steady, though your heart was pounding like crazy. A small, daring smile tugged at your lips. “So I’ll go first.”

Sieun stared at you — frozen, wide-eyed, like the words knocked the air right out of him. His fingers twitched beneath your hold, and for a split second, he looked like he might run.

So you leaned in before he could.

The space between you disappeared with the soundless rush of a breath, your eyes locking with his until your nose brushed his, until you could feel the heat radiating off his skin.

You kissed him.

Your lips met his—softly. Carefully. You barely pressed into it, just enough to feel the warmth of his mouth, the uncertainty trembling through him. He was motionless at first, tense as stone, and then…

He kissed you back.

Harder than you expected. Hungrier. Like something inside him had snapped and he couldn’t hold it in anymore. His hand slid up to cup your cheek, fingers trembling, thumb brushing just below your eye as if to make sure you were real. His other hand gripped the back of your neck, pulling you in closer, like he didn’t care if he breathed again.

You let out a soft sound against his mouth, and he shivered.

When you finally pulled back, your chests were rising and falling fast, and his lips were red from the kiss — a little parted, like he couldn’t believe it.

Sieun swallowed. His voice came out rough and low. “I didn’t know it could be like that.” He whispered, eyes closed.

And then you kissed him again— slower this time, more deliberate. You wanted him to feel it. To understand without words just how long you had been holding this back.

Sieun responded with the same quiet desperation, his lips softer now, more careful, like he was trying to memorize the shape of your mouth. His hand slid to your shoulder, anchoring himself to the moment. His touch was shaky, uncertain — but you felt the way his body leaned into yours.

You parted your lips slightly, and Sieun froze — just for a beat — before following your lead. His breath caught, and a quiet sound escaped him, somewhere between a sigh and a low groan, like he couldn’t hold it in anymore. It stirred something in you.

You pulled him closer, your hand curling into the back of his sweatshirt. The kiss deepened, heat blooming between you, and for a moment, nothing else existed. Just the hush of breath, the pulse in your ears, and the way Sieun tasted like something new and dangerous and addictive.

You finally broke apart to breathe, foreheads pressed together, both of you breathing hard, there was a quiet pause.

The next kiss wasn’t rushed. It unfolded like something inevitable — slow and simmering, deepening with each passing second. Your hands found his face again, your thumbs brushing the edge of his cheekbones as his lips moved with growing confidence against yours. There was a hunger in him now, restrained but real, like he’d been holding back for too long and finally allowed himself to want.

Sieun’s hand slipped to your waist, hesitant at first, then firmer as he pulled you closer.

When your fingers slid into his hair, his breath hitched. That small sound — vulnerable, unguarded — made your pulse quicken. You tilted your head, deepening the kiss, feeling him melt into it with you.

“You’re shaking.” You whispered.

He looked dazed, a faint blush spreading across his skin. ‘I… don’t know what I’m doing.” He said, voice low.

You brushed a strand of hair away from his face, revealing his forehead. ‘Me neither.’ You said softly. ‘But this… it feels right.’

A pause.

“You don’t have to hold back, you know.” You whispered, your voice barely audible, but the words hung in the space between you like a challenge, a quiet invitation. Sieun’s eyes darkened for the briefest moment, a flicker of hesitation crossing his features. His hand now rested at the small of your back, pressing you to his side.

“Are you sure…?” he whispered, the words coming out rougher than he intended.

You nodded slowly, your voice quiet but steady. “I’m sure.” For a brief moment, his eyes locked onto yours, his gaze dark intense. A pulse of heat shot through you at the weight of it, and before you could even register what was happening, he leaned in.

It was clumsy, but there was something urgent in it. It was desperate, consuming. His lips were bruising, demanding, but you welcomed it. You couldn’t get enough of him. His tongue slipped past your lips, exploring, testing, as if he were tasting something he’d been craving for too long. He was fully in it now, giving himself over to the intensity of the moment.

His hands down your back were pulling you closer, his fingers dug into your skin. Sieun’s hands moved up to your waist, lifting you slightly as he pulled you fully on his lap, closer, straddling him. Your skirt wrinkled up and the couch creaked slightly beneath your shifting weight.

A quiet sound slipped from your lips as his hands moved lower, fingers skimming the bare skin of your thighs. His mouth left yours, trailing soft, lingering kisses down the curve of your neck. His breath was warm, unsteady, ghosting over your skin like he was trying to memorize every inch.

You felt the slightest tremble in his hands—not from hesitation, but from nerves he couldn’t quite hide. Each kiss sent a shiver down your spine, the combination of his uncertainty and growing desire making your chest tighten. His name left you in a whisper, barely audible.

Just as you were lost in the kiss, the ringing of your cellphone pierced the air, the shrill sound startling both of you. You pulled back for a moment, your breath heavy, your lips tingling from the kiss. The name on the screen made your heart skip a beat.

Baku.

Sieun’s eyes flickered down to your phone on the couch. A flicker of something dark passed across his face as he saw the name. You started to reach for your phone, but Sieun’s hand shot out to stop you. He took your wrist gently but firmly. His eyes locked onto yours, intense and full of quiet possessiveness. “Leave it.” He murmured, his voice low. It was holding a slight edge of something dangerous.

You froze for a moment, taken aback by the tone in his voice. His thumb gently brushed over your wrist as if trying to calm you, but his eyes never left yours. His breathing was still uneven, his chest rising and falling beneath you. You were caught between answering and staying in this moment, the tension between you palpable. What if it was important? But when you looked back at Sieun, his gaze told you everything. He wasn’t going to let you answer.

He leaned in again, kissing you, this time with an urgency that couldn’t be ignored. The phone’s ringing faded into the background, insignificant compared to the electric feeling of being so close to him, of being his. There was no hiding the desire in his eyes now, no pretending. You could feel the weight of him, his body reacting to yours, and it made your heart race.

With a slight movement, you shifted in his lap, your body brushing against his in just the right way, making you both moan. He let out a low breath, eyes closed, struggling to maintain control.

Sieun’s grip on your waist tightened as he pushed you down and help you rubbed yourself against himself, the friction of your bodies sending a rush of heat through both of you. His lips went back to yours.

You couldn’t help but gasp as the sensation hit you all at once, the feeling of being so close to him after so long, kissing him like this… “Y/N…” His voice was strained, thick with emotion. He was hard beneath you, his body reacting to yours in ways that made you melt.

His lips move to your jawline, then to your neck, and you gasps, tilting your head back to give him more access. It was all too much, but it felt so good. It felt right.

“Can you take it off?” Sieun asked, his voice low and breathless. “Just… that skirt—” He exhaled sharply, almost like it hurt to say. “It’s been driving me crazy.”

Without a word, you leaned back and reached for the zipper, easing it down slowly. The skirt slipped over your hips and slid down your legs in a soft rustle. You rose briefly on unsteady legs, letting it fall to the floor, forgotten. Then you returned to him, settling into his lap—your knees on either side of his thighs, arms wrapping gently around his shoulders, pulling him back into you.

A low groan escaped Sieun, your scent overwhelming every thought in his head. His hands settled instinctively on your hips, then lower, gripping and kneading the skin of your ass as you moved against him. From this angle, he had an unfiltered view of what had consumed his thoughts for weeks.

The thin fabric between you offered little cover—his gaze lingered, hungry and stunned, like he couldn’t believe this was real.

Then his mouth was on yours again, harder this time—needy, desperate.

A gasp escaped you as another wave of pleasure washed over you, your head instinctively tilting to rest against Sieun’s neck, your breath warm and unsteady against his skin. “Oh, Sieun…” You whimpered, your voice barely a breath, almost lost in the heat of the moment. Your fingers clenched at his shirt, desperate, grounding yourself to him.

The air between you was thick with tension, each breath shared between you more uneven than the last. But then Sieun’s hands faltered, and he pulled back slightly, his eyes dark with something more than just desire.

“Y/N, wait.” He breathed, his voice strained. “Please… slow down.” His eyes filled with a quiet intensity. It wasn’t hesitation, but a deeper longing, a desire to stretch this moment for as long as he could.

“I don’t want this to end too fast,” He whispered, his forehead pressing gently against yours. “I want to make it last.”

He kissed you again, but slower this time, lips soft against yours, savoring each breath, each brush of skin. There was no rush now—just the quiet exchange of breaths and the gentle press of your bodies against one another, still moving, but slowly this time.

You followed his lead, your hands finding their way back to his shoulders, holding him close as the kiss deepened, but at a gentler pace. Every shift of his lips and hips felt like it was savoring the moment, the quiet pressure of his touch making your heart race. You stayed like that for a while, tangled in each other, kissing until the world outside blurred away.

He groaned again, low in his throat. That sound — raw and unfiltered — sent a pulse of heat through you. You lifted your head a little bit, searching for his eyes. You couldn’t help but get lost in the soft intensity of his gaze.

"Your eyes... they're so beautiful." You whispered, breathless. His brow furrowed. “Everyone says they're scary... But I think they're beautiful." You leaned in just enough to press your forehead against his, heart pounding.

Something in him cracked at your words—like a tension he hadn’t realized he’d been holding suddenly gave way. He groaned, and his mouth found yours again, this time with more urgency. The kiss deepened, growing hungrier, more consuming, as though he needed to feel everything you were offering him.

His hands gripped your waist firmly, pulling you against him as your bodies moved in sync. The rhythm stayed steady, but the intensity built, slowly and surely—until it was all heat and quiet desperation. Sieun faltered slightly, his expression cracking under the weight of everything he was feeling.

Soft moans spilled between your mouths as you held onto each other, coming undone together in a moment that felt impossibly raw and real.

Your breath came in short, shallow pulls, mixing with his as you stayed tangled together, your bodies still pressed close. Sieun’s forehead rested against your shoulder, his chest rising and falling in uneven waves. His arms were still locked around your waist, as if letting go too soon might undo what just happened. You felt the tremble in him—not fear, but something fragile and overwhelmed.

You stayed like that, wrapped around each other, breathless and dazed. Your hand found the back of his neck, fingers threading gently through his damp hair as your other arm draped across his shoulders.

Neither of you spoke.

Then, quietly, you started to giggle.

Sieun lifted his head slightly, brow furrowing like he wasn’t sure what he missed. You bit your lip, trying to hold it in, but the laugh bubbled out again, soft and breathless.

“We skipped so many steps.” You murmured, eyes crinkling. “Like—ridiculously many.”

His confusion cracked into something looser, something warmer. And then he laughed—an actual laugh, low and unsteady at first, like he wasn’t used to it. You froze for a moment, surprised by the sound, your heart catching.

It was the first time you’d heard him laugh.

You stared, wide-eyed, something warm blooming in your chest. “Was that a laugh?”

He looked away, but there was the smallest smile on his lips. “Maybe.”

Your heart fluttered, and you pressed closer to him, both of you still breathless, but now wrapped in something quieter. Something safe.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

The atmosphere was relaxed, but Baku couldn’t hide the grin plastered on his face.

As Gotak and Juntae casually went about their snacks and drinks, Baku’s eyes were glued to his phone. His thumb hovered over the screen as he checked for any missed notifications—particularly, the unanswered calls to Y/N.

When he saw there were still no replies, he let out a small laugh to himself, almost maniacal in its glee.

“Bro, what’s so funny?” Gotak asked, noticing Baku’s wide grin and the strange, almost gleeful energy radiating from him.

Baku didn't answer right away, instead scrolling through his phone one more time, his grin growing. He was clearly enjoying this.

“She didn’t pick up.” Baku said as an explanation, his voice unusually high-pitched with excitement.

Juntae, who had been quietly sipping his drink, raised an eyebrow, his confusion obvious. “So? It’s no big deal. She’s probably busy.”

Baku’s eyes flicked up to meet Juntae’s, the grin still wide on his face. “No, no, no, it’s a huge deal. She didn’t pick up...again.”

Gotak looked from Baku to Juntae, both equally confused, then turned back to Baku. “You’re acting weird. Why do you care so much? You’re acting like she hasn’t answered for a week.”

Baku laughed louder this time, almost too loud for the calm vibe of the table. “I don’t know, man. I just... I’m excited! She didn’t pick up and I think it’s a sign!”

Juntae and Gotak exchanged uncomfortable glances. Baku was practically vibrating with excitement.

“Sign of what?” Juntae asked cautiously, his tone skeptical. “That she’s busy?”

Baku’s grin didn’t falter as he leaned back in his chair, looking too pleased with himself. “No. It’s a sign that something’s happening between her and Sieun. I’m telling you, something’s going down between them.” He practically bounced in his seat, looking pleased with himself. “I knew it. They’ve been getting closer. My plan finally worked.”

Juntae raised an eyebrow, his face twisting in doubt. “I know you arranged tonight so they’d end up alone, but… Sieun? Are you sure about that? I mean, he’s been... well, distant with everyone.”

Baku’s grin didn’t fade. If anything, it grew. “Exactly! That’s why it’s so exciting. He’s not someone who just flirts with people, right? He’s been keeping it all to himself, but I can tell he’s totally into her! He acts different with her!“

He wasn’t about to tell them what Sieun had shared with him in confidence. That moment had meant something—Sieun had trusted him enough to say the kind of thing he never said out loud. Baku wasn’t going to break that.

Gotak snorted. “You’re talking like you’ve got a front-row seat to their love story.”

Baku laughed, nodding again. “I do! I’m not just their friend; I’m their matchmaker! I mean, come on, they’re practically perfect for each other. I knew from the start that this was going to happen. I just had to give them a little nudge.”

Baku leaned back in his chair, a satisfied grin still on his face. He glanced at Gotak, who was still giving him a confused look. Baku couldn’t help but share just a little bit more of his excitement.

Gotak raised a brow. “What proof do you have , exactly? That she didn’t answer your call? You’re jumping to conclusions, Baku.”

Juntae nodded, quieter but equally skeptical. “Maybe her phone’s just on silent. Or she’s asleep.”

Baku scoffed, leaning forward now, eyes gleaming with something close to triumph. “Oh come on. You really think it’s just that? She hasn’t answered three calls. And she never ignores me. Not unless she’s… preoccupied.”

“Dude, you’re seriously making a whole story out of that?” Gotak said, shaking his head. “That’s not proof. That’s just your imagination going wild.”

Baku smirked, undeterred. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just good at reading people.”

“You?” Gotak said flatly.

“Alright,” Baku said, sitting up straighter. “Let’s make it interesting, then. I say something’s going on between Sieun and Y/N. If I’m right, you owe me fried chicken. If I’m wrong, I’ll cover lunch for a whole week.”

Gotak squinted at him. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious.”

Juntae glanced between them, clearly amused but staying out of the challenge.

Gotak gave in with a shrug. “Fine. But if you’re wrong, I want extra fries.”

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

The kitchen was quiet except for the soft sizzle of eggs in the pan and the hum of the morning air. You moved slowly, still a little tired but warm, wrapped up in the oversized black hoodie you’d slipped on the moment you got out of bed. His hoodie. It smelled like him—clean, subtle, and something you couldn't quite name but always noticed when he was close. You’d always wanted to wear it, and now that it was on you, it felt like a secret hug even when he wasn’t around.

It was now Sunday. You had spent the whole weekend together.

Sieun had run back to his place yesterday morning to grab a few things, but the rest of the time, he stayed at yours. It felt safer that way. Fewer chances of being interrupted.

It had been awkward at first. He didn’t seem to know what he was supposed to do—where to lie, how close was too close. His body had been stiff, his movements hesitant, like he was afraid of doing something wrong.

By the second night, things felt easier. He relaxed beside you, settling into the space you made for him. The way he curled toward you in his sleep, his breath soft against your shoulder… the way his fingers found yours in the dark, like it was second nature—it all felt strangely natural. It felt safe in his arms. Not just physically, but deeper than that. Like, for once, the world outside didn’t matter. You weren’t being judged or pressured. You were just… held.

You didn’t hear his footsteps, but you felt Sieun’s quiet presence suddenly behind you, his warmth pressing gently into your back.

Then, his arms wrapped around your waist.

Slow. Firm. Wordless.

You let out a small breath, your lips curving. “You’re awake.”

“Mhm.” His voice was husky, still laced with sleep, and it vibrated softly against your shoulder as he tucked his chin there.

“You stole it,” he murmured.

You tugged the hem shyly. “…I hope you don’t mind.” You said, watching his expression. “I’ve always kind of wanted to.”

Sieun didn’t say anything at first. His eyes dropped to the hoodie again, then flicked back to your face. He looked almost… soft.

“It suits you,” he said quietly.

Your heart stuttered. “I might not give it back, you know.”

His voice was calm, but there was a trace of fondness in it. “Then I’ll just steal one of yours.” You laughed, leaning more into him.

“I’m making breakfast.” You whispered, half turning your head toward him. He nodded only. He held you tighter for a second. His breath brushed your neck, his body curved around yours like he was trying to melt into you.

You turned in his arms, the warmth of his body still at your back as you faced him. He blinked, a little startled by the sudden movement, his hands instinctively resting at your sides.

Before he could say anything, you leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his lips.

It was soft—barely a moment—but it stole the breath right out of him.

His eyes widened, his entire body stiffening as if his brain was still trying to catch up. You could see the pink slowly rising in his cheeks, his lips parting slightly like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

You couldn’t help but grin as you watched the color bloom on his ears, his gaze stubbornly fixed to the side like the wall was suddenly fascinating.

“Your ears are red.” You said, trying not to laugh.

Sieun tensed. “No, they’re not.”

You stepped a little closer, tilting your head with mock curiosity. “They definitely are. You’re blushing.”

“I’m not.” He muttered, still not looking at you.

You leaned in, voice low and teasing. “It’s kind of cute… You weren’t this shy last night.”

You hadn’t gone all the way—nothing further than what had happened Friday night. But it was still good. Incredibly good.

That got him. His shoulders stiffened, and his eyes finally snapped to yours, wide with embarrassment. “Y-Yah—don’t say it like that.”

You giggled, absolutely delighted. “What? It’s true. You’re all serious and quiet again, but I remember how you looked when—”

Sieun clapped a hand gently over your mouth, face burning now. “Stop talking.” He whispered, voice tight but soft, like he didn’t know whether to be mortified or pull you closer again.

Turning back around, the smile still playing on your lips, you gently slid the freshly cooked egg onto the plate of kimchi fried rice, the soft sizzle filling the space between you.

Your phone buzzed again on the counter, Baku’s name lighting up the screen—his third call in the past hour. When you didn’t answer, it was Juntae’s turn to call.

You laughed quietly, the sound warm and lazy. “They really don’t give up, huh?”

Sieun, still hovering near you, glanced at the phone with a frown. You reached out and picked it up but didn’t answer right away.

“Can I answer them now?” You asked, turning to him with a soft smile. “They’ve been calling nonstop.”

Sieun looked at you for a long second—quiet, unreadable. Then, with a small exhale, he nodded, eyes flicking to the phone then away again.

“...Yeah.” He said quietly. “I guess we should let them know you’re not dead.”

You slid a plate onto the counter. “Here. Eat.”

He gave a small nod of thanks and slipped into the chair, his back now to you, already reaching for the food.

You swiped your finger across the screen and tapped the speaker button, bracing yourself for whatever chaos was about to unleash.

“Hello?” You answered, trying to sound as cheerful as possible.

“Y/N?” Juntae’s voice came through, gentle and a bit uncertain. “Ah—sorry if I’m interrupting. Are you okay?” You could picture his furrowed brow.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Sorry for not answering sooner. I just needed a quiet weekend.”

You smiled to yourself, glancing at Sieun, who was quietly eating across from you.

There was a pause on the other end, and then a muffled rustling sound before Juntae spoke again. “It’s been two days. We were starting to get a little worried.”

In the background, you heard Gotak’s familiar, booming voice: “Tell her we thought she got kidnapped!”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly. ��I’m fine.” You said. “I promise.”

Juntae, sounding slightly relieved, murmured, “Okay. That’s… good.”

Then Baku shouted again, “Ask her if Sieun’s still alive too!”

You raised an eyebrow, a playful grin tugging at the corners of your lips. You kept your gaze on Sieun. He didn’t say anything, didn’t turn around, but you noticed the slight pause in his movements, the way his shoulders stiffened just enough to give him away.

“Sieun’s not here.” You said nonchalantly, eyes still on his back. “It’s just me.”

“Give me the phone! She’s lying.”

Your eyebrows lifted in amusement. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb.” Baku fired back. “You’re lying through your teeth. Sieun’s there with you, isn’t he?”

Sieun still hadn’t turned around, but his fork hovered in mid-air for a second too long before he resumed eating, just a bit more slowly than before.

“Nope.” You said sweetly. “Just little ol’ me.”

Baku huffed. “Right. And what about the fact Sieun’s been MIA too, huh? He’s not answering his phone either. That’s way too convenient.”

You suppressed a grin. “Maybe he’s tired of you too.”

“Or maybe,” Baku continued smoothly, “He’s lying in your bed right now.”

You’re eyes widened in shocked amusement. “Wow. Jumping to conclusions, aren’t we?”

There was a pause, then his voice took on a slightly smoother edge. “You know, Y/N… your ballet performance? You were… kind of stunning. Not just the dancing. The way you looked on stage—man. It was something else.”

You blinked confused at the sudden change of conversation. “Uhm, thank you? I guess.” You replied, unsure if he was serious or just trying to throw Sieun off…

“I keep thinking about that dress you wore for the performance.” He added, teasing now.

Okay definitely the later…

Sieun didn’t say a word, but you saw it—the way his shoulders tightened slightly

“That white one,” Baku went on. “It hugged your body just right. Every turn, every step you took… it was impossible not to notice.”

You cleared your throat, your cheeks warming. “Baku.” You said, tone edged with warning.

“And the way the fabric shimmered under the spotlight? It made your skin look like it was glowing. Your arms, your back—don’t even get me started on your legs.” Sieun rose from his chair—slowly, silently. He still didn’t look at you, but his movements were calm, deliberate.

“I'm just saying,” Baku purred. “When you stepped on that stage, I thought—‘she could ruin me and I’d say thank you.’”

That was the last Sieun’s last straw.

He stepped over, and without a word, took the phone gently from your hand. His fingers brushed yours—warm, steady.

When he spoke, his voice was low, almost bored. But his eyes—cold and sharp—told another story.

“You’re too loud.” He said into the phone.

A beat of silence.

Then Baku’s voice erupted on the other end. “HA! I knew it! I told you, didn’t I? Now you can buy me—”

Beep.

Sieun pressed a button and ended the call with an emotionless flick of his thumb. He set the phone face down on the counter.

You turned to him, amused. “You didn’t like the compliments?”

“I didn’t like that they came from him.”

His eyes flicked to you and his gaze darkened slightly. “You looked better right now.” He said quietly, voice rough, “Hair still messy and in my shirt.”

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏✎﹏﹏﹏﹏

The next morning, you floated through the halls of the ballet academy with a lightness in your chest you hadn’t felt in a long time.

You’d kissed Sieun before leaving—just a soft press of your lips to his cheek as he mumbled something half-asleep. He’d wrapped his arms around you in return, slow and warm, holding on like he didn’t want to let go. It made leaving harder… but also, somehow, easier.

You danced like the air carried you. Even your teacher noticed.

“Light on your feet today,” She said as you held a balance mid-turn. “Good energy. Keep that.”

You smiled through your breathing, heart warm. If only she knew why.

The sun had risen higher when you finally left the academy alone, bag slung over your shoulder, hair pulled into a quick bun. There was a small ache in your muscles that felt earned. The street was quiet at first—just a few parked scooters and the hum of traffic down the block.

Then you saw them.

A small group of men loitered near the academy’s entrance gate—older, rougher around the edges, their presence too still, too intentional. One of them stood out, dressed in an orange jacket, a cigarette burning between his fingers. Smoke curled lazily from his mouth as he stared down at his phone.

You felt it before he even looked up.

That drop in your stomach. That quiet instinctive alarm.

Then his head lifted. His eyes locked onto yours—and he smiled broadly.

But it wasn’t friendly. It was a grin stretched wide with some private joke you weren’t in on. Like he was already imagining something. Something you wouldn’t find funny at all.

“Hello, little ballerina.” He said, casual and amused. “Been meaning to talk to you.”

[whatremains-if]

PLAY THE DEMO (TBA) 

Nothing could quite match the thick tension of a young, emotionally detached adult stuck in the same space as their equally distant and emotionally disturbed family…well, maybe everything except a mysterious illness outbreak. 

As the virus begins to spread like wildfire, suddenly faced with unimaginable grief and loss, forced to kiss all sense of normalcy goodbye.

With life as you knew it falling apart and danger lurking around every corner, pushed to confront the same past you tried to escape. Reconcile with your estranged family, band together with an unlikely group of survivors, and learn how to navigate through the end of the world as you know it.

content warning: Intended for mature audiences rated 18+. Contains strong language, sexual themes, drug and alcohol use, graphic violence, body horror, mental health struggles, references to assault, and both physical and emotional abuse, depictions of sexual content and other potentially triggering material.

what will remain?

Dragged along to some boring town in the middle of Midwest butt-fuck nowhere in the middle of your college semester. Being ripped away from the big city life, your college friends, even what was left of your father's lasting physical memory—all because your mom fell head over heels with some new guy who made her feel like the best thing to do was move on and start over. 

She promised your brother and you that it was all supposed to be a fresh, blank chapter. Promises of having a new job, making a few new friends, and a whole new start—things being presented on a perfect silver platter. It sure is a shame that none of those promises will be fulfilled.

What starts as a weird news report on the news about some virus sweeping the nation spreads into full-blown chaos. A bloody cough. A sudden scream. A neighbor turning into a feral, flesh-eating monster before your eyes. 

The world begins to fall apart faster than you can process it. One moment you’re rolling your eyes at your mom’s hopefulness, and the next you're hopelessly fending for your life. 

Suddenly, you’re no longer just the new city-slumming family in town. It’s all on you to protect your family members, navigate around a collapsing world, and figure out who you can trust when everything feels like it’s rotting from the inside out. The days of peace are gone, and in the end, the question isn’t just whether you will survive…but what kind of person will remain of you.

STORY FEATURES.

Choose your survivor's name, pronouns, sexual identity, appearance, survival style, and more.

Form stronger or ruin the current and new relationships that you have, with the choices you make throughout the story effecting your survival experiences and significant plot changes.

Figure out just how far you're willing to go when it comes to the safety of your family and those that you consider your allies.

Customize your favorite melee or ranged weapon of choice.

Choose whether to form platonic or romantic bonds with other survivors.

Engage or escape, loot or shoot. Learn which fighting style truly fits your character.

Decide who you should indulge your trust in: family, friends, or the government.

ROMANCE OPTIONS.

Along the way, experience unique character routes depending on your section of RO's. The possible romance options being:

.ᐣ  Callan ( M ) — The Realist … Cal is known for his blunt, sharp-tongued, and annoyingly impossible demeanor. He’s the type of guy who somehow managed to make his presence known without actually needing to raise his voice. He’s not the type to sugarcoat or give pep talks. Just the facts, the plan, and the quickest route to survival. Efficiency is his guilty pleasure, and anything outside of that tends to get side-eyed into the dirt. Hardwired to prioritize logic over feelings, he clashes easily with anyone who moves on impulse or emotion, especially in high-stakes situations. His version of loyalty is heavily armored but earned through grit. Trust isn’t freely given, and it’s even harder to earn back once it’s lost. His past is a landmine of choices he doesn't speak about—and likely never will. Still, under the right conditions, his sarcasm cuts through the tension like a blade, delivered so dry it could start a drought. He might never call himself a hero, but when it counts, he’s the one keeping the group from completely falling apart.

.ᐣ  Ezra/Eliza ( M/F ) — The Sparkplug … All bright eyes, fast hands, and a running commentary that never quite turns off. Their curiosity is relentless, their energy infectious (or exhausting, depending on who you ask), and their pockets are always filled with scribbled notes, a cassette player, or that dusty camcorder they use to “document something real quick". They’re the type who lights up when talking about random stuff, old tech software, hero comics, or why the government is secretly terrifying. Most people tune them out before realizing they actually know their shit. And they do. They just don’t always know when to shut up about it. Born into a warm, affectionate home, they carry that love on their sleeve. With impulsive touches, shoulder nudges, and zero understanding of personal space. Beneath the corny puns and awkward cadence is someone afraid of being dismissed but still unwilling to back down when it counts. They’re not the strongest, or the fastest…or even the bravest, just someone trying. And sometimes, that’s all that matters.

.ᐣ  Saint ( M/F ) — The Live Wire … There’s something about them that just feels… off. Not in a dangerous way (maybe a little), but in that “why are you smirking right now?” kind of way. They talk like they’re halfway into a dare and halfway into calling your bluff. And the worst part? They’re usually right. They have this unnerving ability to pick things apart: small details, route patterns, people’s behaviors. The twitch in your voice, even the flick of your eyes when you lie. They clock it all. They won’t mention it until it matters or until they’re bored and want to watch you squirm. While most spiral under pressure, they just power down. Their emotions don’t flare, they simply just flatline. But don’t mistake the quiet for calm. Confrontation is their second language. Their humor? Sharp, inappropriate, timed just wrong enough to kill a room. But some people laugh anyway. Maybe it’s honesty. Maybe it’s chaos. Or maybe that’s just how they know how to truly connect with someone.

.ᐣ  Raymond ( M ) —  The Quiet Heart … Ray’s not the kind of guy who takes up space when he enters a room, he’s the kind who fills the cracks. The one handing out dad jokes like candy, patching up moods with lighthearted banter before people realize they needed it. Humor isn’t just a shield for Ray, it’s a bridge. A way to keep things moving when standing still feels too close to falling apart. There’s a quiet strength in how he exists: always listening, always helping, always moving. He’s at his best when his hands are busy.  Always hauling supplies, fixing busted gear, anything to avoid thinking too hard. When the past sneaks in, it shows. He zones out. Shuts down. Then he tries again. He’s not loud or commanding, and that makes people underestimate him, until they see how steadily he shows up when it matters. He doesn’t need to lead or save the day. He just wants to help. To ease someone’s burden. Ray’s not trying to be a hero, just not helpless again.

.ᐣ  Zoey ( F ) —  The Reluctant Medic … Zoey wasn’t supposed to be anyone’s lifeline. She’s only a pharmacy tech because her family owns the place, and her “expertise” comes from memorizing pill names and dosage charts well enough to keep the old folks’ bottles full. No real education, just enough to stay employed. She doesn’t look useful in a crisis: quiet, twitchy, and standoffish by default, but dangerously impulsive when it counts. Raised in a strict religious household with more siblings than boundaries, Zoey never fit the mold. The town treats her like a recovering addict. She barely talks about her family, when she does, it’s clipped, like she’s pulling words from a wound. Most see a snappy girl who flinches when you’re too close and doesn’t trust easily. They don’t see how hard she works to stay upright. Or how loudly she hates herself, second only to her parents. But when someone’s bleeding or breaking, Zoey’s there. Shaky hands. Quiet prayers. Trying, always. Even if she doesn’t believe she’s worth saving.

OTHER LINKS.

ro intros.

playlist.

pinterest.

kofi jar.

....dedicated to all the apocalyptic loving losers like me and most importantly @anya-dev and her inspirational interactive novel scout :)

[yuamusuzuran]

The Dragon & the Foreseer who loved him

Pairing: Sylus x Zayne/ SnowCrow

Chp word count: 2212

Rating: Mature to Explicit at times/ Minors DNI!

Tags for the whole fic: soulmates, canon divergence, reincarnation, M/M, fluff, smut, angst, romance, drama, tragedy (but they get better), initial top!Sylus/bottom Zayne but later they become a switch

Tags for this chapter: references to SnowCrow myths, canon divergence, kidnapping, Sylus has dragon anatomy through and through

ENJOY!

CHAPTER 1 - I have not foreseen you coming for me

The cold... Zayne was accustomed to it all too well.

As his eyelids flickered open for a single moment, he couldn’t be sure how much time had passed since he was last conscious. It could’ve a few minutes; it could’ve been days, months even… or maybe years. He was never really sure…

Zayne inhaled slowly, the sharp and cold air filling his lungs as the ice surrounding him crackled at even a minor movement.

To a bystander, he might’ve appeared stuck in the clutches of merciless ice, but if he had to be honest… he could raise from his chair at any given moment.

He just didn’t want to. There was no use, as he already knew when the royal envoy will soon pay him a visit, asking about the destiny of the kingdom, and all of its individuals.

Zayne could see it all so clearly, his mind never quiet or at ease, the rest of his already long life playing before his eyes in sequence of hundred visions.

He could feel his eyebrows twitch as he adjusted his sitting position, the marble throne under him enclosed in ice, like everything in his surroundings.

This was the fate of Foreseer of Astra, who only existed to bring news and hope to the people of Philos.

From the moment he was chosen to be the Almighty Astra’s voice, Zayne knew his fate was never to live a normal life… or to live at all.

He had already seen it all, clearly, as if it was set in stone.

And thus, there was no use in remaining conscious, at least for the next year or so.

Zayne closed his eyes again, the ice enclosing its chilly grip on his entire body.

The visions of the future started playing in his mind again, showing him many lives which he could only observe and foretell, without ever getting a chance to live through these moments himself.

Such was a life… of a Foreseer…

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Dragons were always thought to wreak havoc upon humanity wherever they lived… at least, that’s what the people of Philos believed.

With them gone for more than five hundred years, citizens of this prosperous kingdom believed there to be no threat that they have posed so many years ago. And yet, most of them were blissfully unaware of the beast that was trapped in the deepest parts of the royal dungeon.

The dragon hissed quietly through his teeth, his hearing being the only sense with which he experienced the world around him.

Every other part of his body was bound, his long tail nailed down to the stone floor, thick chains with boulders on their end holding his arms spread out and tense. The massive boulder was strapped on the beasts’ back, forcing him to remain in a perpetual kneeling posture, his massive wings nailed and chained around the same block of stone that held him down. His eyes were covered with blindfold made of coldest iron, the piece connected to a muzzle that kept his mouth shut at all times.

All the dragon could do was breathe and absorb nutrition via a thick needle someone would always stab him with, every now and then…

But people of Philos, and its royal family grew arrogant.

They’ve destroyed, slaughtered his kind so many years ago… they didn’t even remember dragon’s true nature.

The wounded and trapped dragon was the most dangerous kind… especially when it had the time to harness its own, always-growing power.

As he took another breath, the dragon listened.

The guards have changed recently… and judging by their distant footsteps, they were on one of their many patrols.

With the biggest amount of effort, the dragon moved his head to the side, a small hole in his blindfold being more than enough for him to notice a dim light of torches in the distance.

Soon enough, two guards appeared in his limited field of vision.

The dragon smiled.

As one of the guards gave him a single glance whilst holding a torch, the beast focused all of his energy into a single, hypnotic gaze.

Expectedly, the guard stopped, dead in his tracks, as if frozen solid in place.

Someone didn’t listen to his teacher, the dragon thought, his smile widening.

In a matter of moments, the torch the young guard was holding was thrown across the circular chamber, landing directly behind the dragon’s bound tail.

He could hear the other guard yelling and scolding his entranced comrade, but there was nothing he could do at that point.

Using the very tip of his tail, the dragon connected with the small flame, the fiery power immediately coursing through his body.

The energy shifted inside him, making fire’s energy even more intense as it melted away the binds on his tail, the long appendage swaying left and right before being used to cut open the very chains that held his wings in place.

The dragon continued to smile as the panicked footsteps and yells echoed above him, thankful for the fact that his guards employed enough reckless people for this to succeed.

They really became an arrogant race…

With his wings free, the dragon was easily able to get rid of the boulder that sat on top of his back, every bone and joint in his body cracking once he stood back on his feet.

He let out a loud groan, the relief so intense it made the beast laugh as loudly as his muzzle allowed him.

All of a sudden, the entire tower lit up with the power of thousand torches, the humans attempting to use every trick in the book in order to distract him and hold him in place.

But… this iron blindfold and a muzzle were the only tools he needed… and they were the ones who gave him these tools freely.

The dragon spread his large wings as much as he could, causing him to promptly ascend into the air while still being chained up to two huge boulders.

Flipping both of his wrists, the beast harnessed the fiery power he had absorbed moments ago and channeled it into his binds, the cuffs coming off in the next moment and clanking on the floor.

With his arms finally free, the dragon reached up for the muzzle and loosened it up ever so slightly, never taking it completely off as his wings carried him up the tower.

He could hear hundreds of panicked guards yelling and running in formation on every level of the tower, the sound of their weapons, arrows and explosives being so clear the dragon didn’t even need to see them to know their location.

And even though his flying skills became slightly rusty in the past five hundred years, he was still able to withstand the occasional hit or two.

But what the guards didn’t expect was him to absorb the energy of the firearms and weapons that had hit him… and shoot that same energy right back at them, but tenfold.

When left to their own devices, even when immobile, dragons are always able to increase their level of power just by channeling it from within, from their own hatred, anger, and wish for vengeance.

And this dragon had plenty of it to go around…

As he continued to ascend, the ancient beast used up all of the power he had harnessed, making the very space around him feel heavy and suffocating.

He then removed the muzzle, letting out the loudest, earth-shattering yell any of those humans have ever witnessed.

The mere vibration of his cry made the whole structure shake, floors and levels crumbling under the force of his power and pulled down by the gravity.

As the light slowly dimmed out, the dragon was finally able to remove his eye covering, revealing a pair of deeply crimson, glowing eyes.

Harnessing his power once again, the beast directed both of his hands towards the metal ceiling, not even multiple layers of glass able to contain him in this prison any longer.

Another explosion echoed through the night, horrified and pained screams of his guards and torturers becoming music to his ears.

And now, after more than five hundred years, the dragon was finally able to breathe in the fresh, night air.

As his menacing figure floated over the capital city of Philos, he knew there was no time for sentimentality or staying around for too long.

These humans maybe relaxed with his imprisonment for the past centuries, but one thing the dragon knew about their species was that they were adaptable.

They will promptly find a way to hunt him down and bring him back to the dungeon… and that was something he wasn’t willing to experience ever again.

Thus… he needed a strategy, a way to evade all of their future capturing attempts.

The dragon landed on the top of the tower he had just fled from, observing humans beneath running around and regrouping, each house in the capital coming alive after the intense commotion.

That’s when the dragon’s eyes caught a glimpse of something.

High up on the mountain with a snowy peak, stood breathtakingly white tower, as tall as the one he stood on.

Recalling many conversations he had heard over the centuries, the dragon smirked once again, the perfect plan forming in his mind.

With his wings spread and ready for flight, the beast took off, leaving behind the panicked little ants that will do anything to keep him confided for their own benefit.

But now, he will take something they consider important…

His flight was short, cloudy skies hiding his figure from most of the onlookers. And as he approached the massive tower on the snowy mountain, he realized it had no windows… aside from a massive, glassy dome at the very top of it.

Balling his hand into a fist, the dragon channeled his power, causing the dome to promptly explode and gain him access to the inside of the ominous yet beautiful structure.

The dragon landed inside, every inch of the main chamber covered in massive structures of sharp ice. He frowned, looking around at the empty space, not believing a human was actually able to live there, at least from what he had remembered.

But then he saw him.

At the far end of the chamber, on top of a set of marble stairs, sat a throne completely enclosed in ice.

On top of the throne, merged with the ice from head to toe, sat a human figure; his hair dark and seemingly short, dressed in gray robes and with a massive staff gripped in his right hand.

The dragon made his way up the stairs, soon stopping right before the legendary figure he only heard about.

The Foreseer of Astra, the one who could accurately predict one’s destiny, even the future of an entire nation.

Royal family always turned to him for guidance and received messages from their beloved god through the Foreseer… so; it was only an appropriate punishment for them to be stripped of that luxury.

With a widening smirk, the dragon reached down, his clawed hand about to grip the human’s neck… only for his eyes to suddenly open and look up at him.

Taken aback slightly, the dragon still closed his palm around his neck, the Foreseer only closing his eyes as if accepting his fate.

“Interesting…” the dragon purred, putting a slight pressure on the man’s neck “Humans usually scream and beg for mercy when they merely lay their eyes on me. And yet… you’re willing to die by my hand, just like that…”

The human took a deep breath, his voice as calm and cold as the ice he was surrounded with:

“I have not foreseen you coming for me… but if that’s how it’s supposed to be… do it quickly”

Dragon’s eyebrow twitched, the man relaxing under his grip as he released the staff from his hand, allowing it to fall to the floor with a loud clank.

Interesting, he thought, deciding to retrieve his arm.

A Foreseer willing to die because he believed it was his destiny… allowing himself to be enclosed in ice, until the next time someone dares to pay him a visit?

The dragon sighed, clicking his tongue in annoyance.

“It’s not entertaining to kill someone who seems to yearn for death…” he growled, prompting the Foreseer to look up at him again with confusion.

The reaction made the dragon laugh as he lowered himself to look the human directly in the eyes.

“Instead… I’ll make you my captive”

The Foreseer gasped and frowned, but before he could utter another word, the dragon stung him in the thigh with the tip of his tail, injecting him with a small amount of poison to put him to sleep.

The ice around the throne suddenly retreated, making the Foreseer’s body slump forward, right into dragon’s arms.

Chuckling, the beast picked the human up like a ragdoll before throwing him on his back, holding both of his hands around his own neck as he got ready for flight again.

As the capital of Philos continued to fall into panic and uproar, the lone dragon flew above the clouds, the unconscious Foreseer slumbering peacefully on his back…

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

THANK YOU ALL AND SEE YOU NEXT WEEKEND!

CLICK HERE FOR NEXT CHAPTER

TAG LIST: @rafayelsplushiekiller @jasmines-greentea @nezuswritingdesk @angelwhizpers @katiralovely @nothoughts-justzayne

[guess-my-next-obsession]

the alchemy | i. the return

pairing: no outbreak!dbf!joel miller x fem!reader

chapter rating: Mature [18+ only, minors dni, dbf/secret relationship, age gap (joel is 34, reader is 24), reader is described as curvy & only has one parent--all else is open to interpretation (we are POC friendly over here okay!!), sarah exists but isn't a main part of the story]

summary: now that you've moved on from college, you're ready to start the newest chapter of your life--adulthood. but when you move back home and are swept back into the magnetic pull of your neighbor, Joel, you find that maybe moving on has nothing to do with leaving the past behind and everything to do with embracing it.

wc: <2k

the masterlist | joel’s pov | next chapter

Undergrad had been a thrilling, difficult, eye-opening experience—one that brought you new friends and new love, along with fall-outs and breakups—but now that you’d earned your degree, you were determined to move on to the next stage of your life. 

Step one, move back home until you landed a job. Step two, move the fuck out.  

Step one was currently underway, your dad hauling the contents of your jam-packed tiny sedan into the house you’d lived in for the better half of your life, while you unpacked the last four years into your old bedroom. It seemed tinier than it had four years ago, but perhaps it wasn’t the room that had changed. Perhaps it was simply that you’d outgrown the space. You tried to fit your new life into your old—shoving your clothes from high school into bags to drag down to the thrift store so that you’d have room for the clothes that fit your new, curvier body—and attempted not to mourn the loss of your old self. 

But wouldn’t this always be the case? With each step you took forward, the more distance you’d put between you and your youngest self. Some days, you wished to plant your feet and refuse to move at all, the comfort of the past too soothing and the uncertainty of the future too unsettling. But most days—like today—you forced your eyes to fix on the image of all that could be, of all that you could be, even when it ached to do so. 

“That’s the last of it,” your dad announced with an exhausted sigh, sweat beading down his forehead as he set the last box down in the middle of the room. 

“Thanks,” you managed, your mind busy with planning. It seemed to never stop, the constant sorting out of your situation. You had to plan the new arrangement of your old furniture, which friends and relatives you’d visit first, which jobs you’d apply for, which apartment complex looked the safest, how you’d manage to make rent, and so on, until you had to plan your funeral. What a joy life was. 

“I know you’re probably busy, but I thought it’d be nice if we went out for dinner tonight,” he suggested, likely able to see the nonstop churning of the wheels inside your mind. He was always oddly aware like that. “Beats you having to eat my cooking.”

You let out a chuckle, nodding your head as you allowed yourself to rest from all the organizing and plotting. You set your hands on your hips and turned to give him a small smile and shrug. “Sure.”

“Alright,” he smiled back, something soft and barely there. “Just, uh, pick a place. I can invite Joel and Sarah, if you want. I know they’ve missed you.”

You laughed at the prospect of your gruff neighbor ever missing you. His ten-year-old, Sarah, likely did, the two of you forming almost a sisterly bond over the last two years that you’d known her. You were her babysitter during your summer and winter breaks from college, mostly because you didn’t mind the work and because you lived right next to the Millers. 

But her father? No, he never seemed to care much for you. Or anyone, for that matter. Except Sarah, his brother, Tommy, and your dad. 

“Sure,” you said, the word slowly becoming your new mantra. “I’ll, uh, just finish unpacking and then I’ll get ready.”

“Alright,” he said, taking one last look around the room before moving to the doorway. He stopped, ever the old sentimental bastard, and turned your way. “Good to have you home, kiddo.” 

You gave him another pursed smile and nodded, fighting the urge to tell him that if things worked out in your favor, you wouldn’t be home for long. “Yeah, dad.”

After a much needed shower and a bit of makeup, you nearly felt like yourself again. You wore a pair of denim shorts and a nicer tank top to combat the late summer heat, nothing too scandalous for a family dinner. Your dad drove the two of you to your favorite mexican spot in relative silence, the dull hum of the radio lost to your ears as you watched Austin pass by through the passenger window. 

Joel and Sarah were there when you pulled into the parking lot, the two of them standing in front of their familiar old pick-up. Sarah was wearing a summer dress, her tight curls now in rows of boho-braids. Joel, in a worn-in t-shirt and a pair of jeans, hardly looked much older than he had when you first met him two years ago. At thirty-two, he was handsome, but at thirty-four…well, he was enough to make a girl drool. 

You never liked to admit it to yourself, but you’d always had a bit of a crush on him. Back then, at twenty-two, you assumed it was simply the allure of an older man during a time in which all you wanted was to be a “real adult”. And as the last couple of years went on and the prospect of growing up began to dim, you expected that your little crush would dim along with it. But looking at him now, the only thing time did was make him all the more handsome and desirable. From the way he treated his daughter to the fact that not once during your stint as babysitter did he ever try anything creepy with you, you were forced to believe that he was a stand-up man. And what was more desirable than a good man who looked like that?

Sarah’s squeal pulled you out of your admiration of her father as she ran over to you, hugging your waist. You squeezed her right back, making up for the last five months you spent away at school. “I’m so glad you’re back.”

“Me too,” you said, giving her a smile as she pulled away to look up at you. “I like your braids. Did your dad do them?”

She gave you a look that screamed get real. “Please, he can’t even manage a ponytail.”

You laughed, lifting your eyes to meet Joel’s as he stood a few feet away with your father. You were surprised to find him looking at you, though of course he would be, given that out of the four of you here, you were the only one who he didn’t see every single day. Still, the eye contact was enough to get your stomach fluttering with something both anxious and eager. 

“Welcome home,” he said, his voice hitting you just as hard as his gaze. You tried not to react, to behave like you always had before, but now that you were reaching your mid-twenties, had earned your degree, and had experienced your first dry spell in your adult life, it was difficult. Every womanly part of you screamed with the urge to flirt, to put everything you learned at college to work for him. 

“Thanks,” you said instead, trailing your gaze to the restaurant behind him and then to your father. “Should we go inside? It’s hot.”

“Yeah, sure,” he said, taking the lead. He and Joel walked in ahead of you and Sarah, her hand in yours, and you tried not to admire the broad expanse of her father’s back as he stood right in front of you in the restaurant lobby, close enough that you could smell the warm spice of his cologne. 

A wild, rogue part of you wanted to reach your hand out and smooth it across the soft cotton, tracing the line of his spine and the curve of his shoulder blades. In fact, the urge was almost unbearable, as if he were a siren and you were a sailor lost in the current. But somehow, you managed to keep your hands to yourself. 

After getting seated by the host, you ordered yourself a giant frozen margarita to take the edge of sitting directly across from Joel off and busied yourself with the chips and salsa. Your dad, meanwhile, seemed completely at ease as he chatted with Joel, filling him in about his plans for building a deck in the backyard of your house. The conversation didn’t interest you or Sarah, the two of you more focused on clearing the first basket of chips so that you could start on the next. 

“So,” Joel said, something in his tone luring your eyes to his. “You interested in babysittin’ over the summer?” 

You shrugged your shoulders, masking your inner beast who felt nothing but disappointed over the fact that even after all the growing up you’d done over the last two years, all he saw you as was a babysitter to his little girl. Some college kid. The daughter of his friend. 

“I’m gonna be busy applying for jobs, but sure,” you said, glancing at Sarah with a smile. “Not gonna pass up a chance to hang with the coolest kid in the neighborhood.”

To your surprise, Joel smiled at the interaction. “Good. She’s been on my ass about askin’ since we heard you were movin’ back home.”

You nodded, smiling as you drank your margarita from a straw. You kept your eyes averted from him for the most part, not trusting yourself to not melt right there in your seat under his gaze, but on a chance glance his way, you caught Joel’s eyes slipping to your mouth as you swiped your tongue over your bottom lip. He seemed to realize what he was doing the exact instant you had and quickly turned away to scan the busy restaurant. 

If your father and Sarah hadn’t been there, you might have tried to be bold about things. Perhaps you’d brush his leg with yours under the table, or maybe you’d simply tell him it was alright to stare if he wanted to—that you didn’t care what he did as long as he kept looking at you with those dark eyes. But as it were, you couldn’t do anything but mourn the loss of his gaze and listen as he began talking to your dad about his own summer project—renovating his master bathroom. 

Thrilling stuff, really.

By the end of dinner, you were more than tipsy and equal parts antsy to get home, or at least to get some space from Joel. You hugged Sarah goodbye with the promise of coming over the next afternoon, ignoring Joel’s attempt at a goodbye in favor of sliding into the passenger seat. Your dad gave him a pat on the shoulder and waved goodbye to Sarah before climbing in beside you with a soft exhale. 

“What’s up with you?” he asked, turning the key in the ignition. 

“Nothing, why?” 

“You’ve been quiet all night,” he said, whipping his head around as he pulled out of the parking spot. “And drunk. Even just now, Joel was trying to say bye, and you blew him off.”

Ironic, that wording. 

“I’m just tired,” you said, shrugging. “It’s been a long day.”

“I can understand that,” he said. “But just…Joel’s had a rough go of it lately, breaking up with that woman he was seeing for a while and having to raise Sarah by himself, so just…take it easy on him.”

The fact that Joel had been dating at all was news to you. Last time you were around, he didn’t seem to have any interest in dating. Sarah said it was because she asked him not to, her parent’s divorce three years ago still too fresh, but perhaps she’d changed her mind in the last few months and he’d gone and found himself a girlfriend. 

Your stomach curdled at the thought. 

“I didn’t mean anything by it,” you said, picking at the frayed hem of your shorts. “But I’ll make a better effort to be nice.”

“That’s all I ask,” he said, giving you a smile. “And I know you’re tired of hearing it, sweetheart, but I really am glad to have you back. There’s no rush for you to land a job or move out, you know. Just…enjoy the summer. Go make some new friends. Have some fun.”

You chuckled, nodding. “I’ll try my best, pops.” 

“I’m gonna be busy with work and seeing Vic, so I won’t be up your ass all summer,” he said, mentioning the girlfriend he went and got himself during the last year of you being off at college—one you still hadn’t met. “Just don’t want you getting lonely by yourself at the house.”

“After sharing an apartment with five people for the last three years, I think a bit of alone time would do me well,” you said, chuckling. “So don’t worry about me. I’ll occupy myself.”

“In that case, would you mind if I went down to San Antonio to see Vic this weekend?” he asked, giving you a hopeful look that he only pulled out when he assumed you’d protest to whatever it was he was asking. But this time, you really didn’t care. You meant what you said about wanting some alone time to decompress and settle in without constantly being asked how you were doing. 

“Go ahead,” you said, giving him a soft, encouraging smile. “I’m just going to be unpacking all weekend anyways.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah, dad,” you laughed at the roundness of his eyes, at how concerned he was about you. Eventually, he’d come to know the new you, the person who thrived on independence and didn’t need to have someone around all the time. “I’ll manage to survive on my own for two days, I promise.” 

“Alright, smartass,” he laughed. “Don’t be afraid to shoot me a text if you need me to come back, alright?”

“For the millionth time—okay, dad.”

[novaursa]

Legacy (future of the realm)

- Summary: Tywin was the man who saved you from Robert's wrath. He was also the man who doomed you.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Tywin Lannister

- Note: Canon events and timeline do not match the plot of the story.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous chapter: dragon in the garden

- Next part: the calling

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @luniaxi

You sat on a carved stone bench, your hands folded neatly in your lap as you watched Damon. Your son was sprawled on a soft blanket spread over the grass, his tiny hands reaching for a toy carved into the shape of a lion. His eyes were wide with wonder as he cooed at the toy.

Ser Barristan Selmy stood a few paces away, his ever-watchful gaze scanning the gardens. Though Highgarden seemed a safe haven compared to King’s Landing, Barristan remained vigilant. His hand rested lightly on the hilt of his sword, a silent testament to his unwavering dedication to your safety.

The sound of measured footsteps drew your attention. Turning slightly, you saw a man approach—a tall figure with dark hair and a dignified air, his gait steady despite the cane he used for support. Willas Tyrell, heir to Highgarden, inclined his head politely as he came closer.

“Lady Y/N,” he greeted, his tone warm yet respectful. “I hope I’m not intruding.”

You offered a small smile, gesturing for him to join you. “Not at all, Lord Willas. Please, sit.”

Willas settled onto the bench beside you, his cane resting against the edge. His gaze shifted to Damon, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “He’s a striking child. The union of lion and dragon has produced quite the heir.”

You followed his gaze, your expression softening as you watched your son. “He is my greatest joy,” you said quietly. “And a reminder of all that must be protected.”

Willas nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Highgarden is honored to host you and your family. My grandmother speaks highly of you.”

You chuckled lightly. “Lady Olenna speaks highly of few, but I will take that as a compliment.”

“She’s not wrong,” Willas said, his tone sincere. “You’ve endured much and yet remain composed, regal even. It’s... admirable.”

You glanced at him, noting the honesty in his words. “Endurance is a lesson taught early in my family,” you said, your voice steady. “But tell me, Lord Willas, what brings you to the gardens today?”

Willas hesitated briefly, as though weighing his words. “I came to see you, if I’m honest. I’ve heard much about you—your strength, your wisdom. And I wished to offer my gratitude.”

“Gratitude?” you echoed, your brow furrowing slightly.

“For Sansa Stark,” he clarified. “It was no secret that she was to be my bride before circumstances changed. Though the marriage never came to pass, I’ve heard how you’ve looked after her, protected her even.”

You inclined your head, your gaze thoughtful. “Sansa is like a sister to me. Protecting her is something I do not consider a burden.”

Willas smiled faintly. “Still, it is a kindness not everyone would extend. The Starks have suffered greatly, and to know she has someone like you watching over her... it eases the mind.”

You fell silent for a moment, your thoughts briefly drifting to Sansa and the many trials she had endured. “The world has been unkind to her,” you said softly. “But she is stronger than she knows.”

Willas studied you for a moment, his expression contemplative. “And you? Have you found kindness in the world?”

You blinked, taken aback by the question. “Kindness is a rarity,” you admitted. “But it exists, in small, fleeting moments. Sometimes, that is enough.”

Willas nodded, his gaze once again shifting to Damon, who was now babbling happily as he tried to roll onto his side. “Perhaps he will grow up in a world where kindness is more than a fleeting moment.”

You smiled faintly, hope flickering in your chest. “Perhaps.”

Ser Barristan cleared his throat subtly, drawing your attention. You turned to see him watching you closely, his expression unreadable. “Is everything well, my lady?” he asked, his tone polite but firm.

“Everything is fine, Ser Barristan,” you assured him, though you noted the slight tension in his stance.

Willas rose to his feet, retrieving his cane. “I won’t keep you any longer,” he said, his tone courteous. “Thank you for indulging me, Lady Y/N.”

“Thank you for your company, Lord Willas,” you replied, inclining your head.

As he walked away, you turned your attention back to Damon, who had finally managed to grasp the lion-shaped toy. His delighted giggle brought a smile to your lips, even as the weight of Willas’s words lingered in your mind. 

The afternoon sun streamed through the windows of Highgarden’s solar, casting dappled light on the polished wooden table where Tywin Lannister sat. Across from him, Lady Olenna Tyrell reclined in her chair with an air of practiced ease, her sharp eyes shining with amusement. Lord Mace Tyrell, seated to Olenna’s left, was all smiles, his boisterous tone filling the room as he gestured animatedly.

“Such a fine boy, Lord Tywin,” Mace was saying, his voice carrying a note of pride as if he had somehow contributed to Damon’s existence. “A true union of two great houses. The talk of the Reach, I assure you.”

Tywin’s expression was as composed as ever, his piercing green eyes fixed on Mace with faint disinterest. “The boy is six moons old, Lord Tyrell. Talk of him should concern his health and upbringing, not idle gossip.”

Olenna smirked, her gaze shifting between the two men. “Ah, but idle gossip is the lifeblood of noble houses, isn’t it?” she remarked dryly. “And it seems your son is quite the subject of fascination, Lord Tywin. Already, several of our bannermen are inquiring about potential matches.”

Tywin’s jaw tightened slightly, though his voice remained measured. “The boy is an infant. He will not be bartered away like a commodity.”

Olenna leaned forward, her cane resting lightly against her lap. “Bartered? Goodness, how harsh you make it sound. We’re speaking of alliances, Tywin, not cattle. Surely you understand the value of securing the boy’s future.”

“The boy’s future,” Tywin replied coolly, “is not a matter for speculation. It will be decided when the time is appropriate—by me and his mother.”

Mace chuckled nervously, attempting to mediate. “Of course, of course. No one is suggesting anything immediate. But you must admit, the union of lion and dragon has... captivated many. Why, Lord Florant himself—”

“Lord Florant,” Tywin interrupted, his voice cutting through Mace’s like a knife, “should concern himself with his duties, not my son’s future.”

Olenna tilted her head, her amusement undiminished. “You’re protective, Tywin. Understandable. But you must admit, it’s rather endearing to see how much sway the boy already holds. The nobility of the Reach is positively buzzing.”

Tywin’s gaze hardened, though his tone remained firm. “Let them buzz. Damon will not be paraded as a prize. His place is with his family, under my protection, and that of his mother.”

Olenna’s smirk softened into something more contemplative. “And what of his mother? She’s a clever one, Tywin. A rare combination of grace and steel. I imagine she has her own thoughts on what’s best for the boy.”

Tywin didn’t respond immediately, his expression unreadable. Finally, he said, “She understands what is necessary for Damon’s upbringing. That is all that matters.”

Olenna chuckled softly, her sharp gaze never leaving Tywin’s face. “Necessary. Always so practical.”

Mace cleared his throat awkwardly, sensing the tension. “Perhaps we should focus on the feast preparations,” he suggested, his tone overly cheerful. “After all, we wouldn’t want to disappoint our guests.”

Olenna sighed, leaning back in her chair. “Yes, yes, let’s discuss the feast. Though I must say, Tywin, it’s a pity you’re so resistant to the idea of alliances. The boy could command loyalty from half the realm before he can even walk.”

Tywin stood, his movements deliberate and controlled. “I will not sacrifice my son’s future for the fleeting whims of others,” he said, his voice cold and final. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, there are matters I must attend to.”

As Tywin left the solar, Olenna watched him go, her expression thoughtful. “He’s stubborn, I’ll give him that,” she remarked to Mace, her tone laced with both admiration and exasperation. “But that boy... he’ll shape the future of this realm, whether Tywin likes it or not.”

Mace nodded eagerly, though his mind was already on the feast and the praise he hoped to garner from the assembled nobles. Olenna, however, remained silent, her sharp mind turning over the possibilities as she considered the Lannister-Targaryen child and the power he represented.

Tywin found you sitting on a stone bench near the edge of Highgarden’s famed lavender field, cradling Damon in your arms. The soft purple blooms swayed gently in the warm breeze, their sweet scent filling the air, but Tywin’s mood was far from serene. His jaw was set, his expression stern as he approached, the earlier conversation with Olenna and Mace Tyrell clearly still weighing on him.

You looked up as he neared, your sharp eyes catching the tension in his stride. Damon cooed softly, his tiny hands clutching at the folds of your gown, oblivious to the gravity of the moment.

“Tywin,” you greeted, your voice calm, though your tone carried a weight of its own. “You’re troubled.”

He stopped a few paces away, his hands clasped behind his back. “Troubled, no. Irritated, perhaps. Olenna and her endless meddling have a way of testing one’s patience.”

You offered a faint smile, though your expression turned serious. “Then I regret that what I’m about to say will likely test it further.”

Tywin’s brow furrowed, his gaze narrowing. “What is it?”

You adjusted Damon in your arms, ensuring he was comfortable before meeting Tywin’s piercing gaze. “I need to speak with you about something important. Something I cannot delay any longer.”

He gestured for you to continue, his posture stiff with expectation.

“I need to go to High Heart,” you said evenly, your voice steady despite the weight of the words.

Tywin’s expression darkened immediately, his sharp mind connecting the dots with alarming speed. “High Heart? The very place where you were captured by my men before being brought to Harrenhal?” His voice was low, edged with a rare note of incredulity. “Do you realize what you’re asking? The Riverlands are far from stable, and High Heart is no place for you or our son.”

“I know,” you replied, your tone unwavering. “But this is not a whim, Tywin. It is something I need to do.”

He stepped closer, his eyes searching yours for an explanation. “You need to do this? Why? What could possibly compel you to return to such a dangerous place?”

You hesitated, the memories of your capture and the strange dreams that had led you to High Heart flickering through your mind. Damon stirred slightly in your arms, and you took a deep breath before answering. “I cannot explain it fully. But I was drawn there before, and I am drawn there again. There are... answers I must seek, truths I must confront.”

Tywin’s jaw tightened, his irritation now laced with concern. “Truths? Answers? From what? From whom? You are speaking in riddles.”

You sighed, lowering your gaze briefly before meeting his eyes again. “There is something... someone... that calls to me. High Heart holds a connection I cannot ignore. It is not merely curiosity—it is necessity.”

“Necessity,” he repeated coldly, his voice laced with skepticism. “What necessity could justify endangering yourself, our son, and our position?”

“I would never endanger Damon,” you said firmly, your grip on the child tightening protectively. “Nor would I make this request lightly. But I must go, Tywin. I cannot explain it any more clearly than that.”

Tywin’s eyes burned with intensity as he stared at you, his mind clearly racing. Finally, he shook his head, his tone cutting. “This is madness. Even if the Riverlands were secure, which they are far from being, we are not prepared for such a journey. High Heart is isolated, and the dangers along the way are numerous.”

“I know,” you said softly, your voice calm but resolute. “But I am asking you to trust me. To allow me to do this.”

Tywin scoffed, though there was more frustration than malice in the sound. “Trust is earned, and this... this is a request that borders on folly.”

You stood, holding Damon close as you took a step toward him. “You’ve trusted me before, Tywin, even when it went against your better judgment. I am asking for that trust again.”

He stared at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he exhaled sharply, his tone measured but firm. “I will consider it. But do not expect miracles. The logistics alone make this request—”

“Thank you,” you interrupted gently, surprising him with your gratitude. “That is all I ask.”

Tywin’s gaze softened ever so slightly as he looked down at Damon, who blinked up at him with innocent curiosity. “You may find my patience finite,” he said, his voice quieter now. “But you have always had my ear, even when you test its limits.”

You smiled faintly, the tension between you easing just enough to allow a moment of understanding. “And you have always had mine.”

Tywin straightened, his commanding presence reasserting itself. “We will speak of this again when I have assessed the risks. Until then, focus on what is here and now.”

You nodded, watching as he turned and strode away, his cloak billowing behind him. 

The humid air of Essos clung to the small room where Tyrion Lannister and Varys sat. The faint hum of distant chatter from the bustling port city filtered through the cracked shutters, mingling with the scent of salt and spice carried by the breeze. Tyrion leaned back in his chair, a goblet of wine in hand, his sharp eyes fixed on the Spider sitting across from him. Varys, as usual, was impeccably composed, his hands folded neatly in his lap as he watched Tyrion with a faint, unreadable smile.

“So, Lord Varys,” Tyrion began, swirling the wine in his goblet, “once you’ve delivered me to our dragon queen, what then? Will you bask in her fiery gratitude or find some other noble cause to meddle in?”

Varys’s smile didn’t waver, though his gaze grew slightly distant. “There is always work to be done, my lord. The realm is never without its needs, and I serve the realm.”

Tyrion snorted, taking a long sip of his wine. “Ah, the realm. That abstract thing you’ve pledged your life to. How noble. But surely you’ve something more tangible in mind.”

Varys tilted his head, considering Tyrion’s words. “There is another who needs my help more immediately, someone whose future may shape the realm in ways we cannot yet foresee.”

Tyrion raised an eyebrow, leaning forward with interest. “Another? Let me guess—my stepmother, the Lady Y/N? She could certainly use an ally with all the vipers circling her at court.”

A faint chuckle escaped Varys, a rare sound that seemed almost amused. “A wise guess, my lord, but not entirely correct.”

Tyrion frowned, his curiosity piqued. “Not her? Then who?”

Varys leaned forward slightly, his expression carefully measured. “Her son. Your brother, Damon.”

Tyrion blinked, momentarily taken aback. He set his goblet down, his lips curving into a wry smile. “My brother? Well, that’s unexpected. I must say, I didn’t peg you as the sentimental type, Varys. But do go on.”

Varys’s tone remained even, though his gaze sharpened. “Damon is not merely a child, my lord. He is the union of lion and dragon, a symbol of a legacy that carries weight far beyond his tender age. His existence alone has already stirred whispers across the realm. He will need protection and guidance if he is to survive the world he was born into.”

Tyrion leaned back, folding his arms across his chest as he regarded Varys with an amused glint in his eye. “Protection and guidance, you say? And here I thought my father was the overbearing parent. Best not let him catch wind of your noble intentions for young Damon. He might start sharpening his quill for a strongly worded letter.”

Varys allowed himself a small smile. “Your father is a man of practicality, Lord Tyrion. I doubt he would begrudge anyone taking steps to ensure his heir’s safety.”

Tyrion raised an eyebrow, his smile turning sly. “His heir? Funny, I thought that self proclaimed title still belonged to my sister. You seem awfully confident in Damon’s place in my father’s heart.”

Varys met Tyrion’s gaze steadily. “Tywin Lannister is many things, but a fool he is not. Damon represents the future of House Lannister and House Targaryen. He will be the bridge between two great houses, if he survives.”

Tyrion’s expression sobered slightly, his sharp mind piecing together the implications. “If he survives. That’s quite the qualifier, isn’t it? You think he’s in danger?”

Varys’s expression didn’t falter, though there was a faint shadow in his eyes. “A child born into power is always in danger, my lord. But Damon’s bloodline makes him both a prize and a threat. There are those who would see him removed from the game before he can even begin to play it.”

Tyrion sighed, reaching for his wine again. “And you, ever the altruist, will ensure he’s not removed. I suppose that’s commendable in its own way. Though I imagine my father might find it less so.”

Varys inclined his head slightly, his smile faint but unyielding. “The realm has need of such children, Lord Tyrion. They represent the possibilities of a future unburdened by the sins of their forebears. If I can aid in shaping that future, I will.”

Tyrion regarded him for a long moment, his expression inscrutable. Finally, he raised his goblet in a mock toast. “To Damon, then. May he inherit all the ambition and cunning of my father without the accompanying bitterness.”

Varys chuckled softly, though his gaze remained contemplative. “To Damon,” he echoed, his voice quiet but resolute.

The feast was grand, as one would expect from Highgarden, with long tables draped in emerald and gold, laden with bountiful platters of food. The hall was filled with the hum of conversation, the clinking of goblets, and the lilting tunes of the musicians stationed at the far end of the room. Lord Mace Tyrell, in his typical boisterous fashion, was holding court among a group of lesser lords, his laughter booming over the polite chuckles of his audience.

You sat beside Tywin at the high table, your posture poised as you sipped from a goblet of watered wine. Tywin’s expression was as unreadable as ever, though you could sense his growing irritation with the endless chatter around him. His pale green eyes flicked over the crowd, occasionally narrowing when Mace’s laughter grew particularly grating.

“This is a spectacle,” you murmured softly, leaning slightly toward Tywin. “But I suspect it’s not to your taste.”

Tywin glanced at you, his lips twitching into the faintest semblance of a smirk. “Your insight, as always, is impeccable.”

You smiled, turning your attention back to the revelers below. The lords and ladies of the Reach moved gracefully through the hall, their laughter light and musical, their movements elegant as they danced to the lively tunes.

Tywin’s voice broke through your thoughts, low and deliberate. “It’s been some time since I’ve seen you on a dance floor.”

You raised an eyebrow, turning to meet his gaze. “I wasn’t aware you were keeping track.”

“I notice many things,” he replied, his tone neutral, though his eyes carried a hint of something more. “Would you care to remind me how well you move?”

You blinked, surprised. “Are you asking me to dance?”

Tywin inclined his head slightly, his expression betraying none of the inner workings of his mind. “I am.”

For a moment, you hesitated, studying him carefully. It wasn’t like Tywin to indulge in something as frivolous as dancing, especially in such a public setting. But the faint challenge in his gaze was unmistakable, and you weren’t one to back down.

Rising gracefully, you extended your hand toward him. “Very well, my lord. Let us remind these lords and ladies how it’s done.”

Tywin stood, his commanding presence drawing the attention of those nearby. Taking your hand, he led you to the center of the hall, where the other dancers parted to make way for the formidable Hand of the King and his Targaryen wife. The musicians adjusted their tune, transitioning to a stately waltz that suited the moment perfectly.

As Tywin placed one hand on your waist and clasped your hand with the other, you couldn’t help but note the ease with which he moved. Despite his reserved nature, there was a confidence to his movements, a precision that spoke of a man who rarely did anything without mastery.

“You’re surprisingly skilled at this,” you remarked, your voice low enough for only him to hear.

“I was taught properly,” he replied, his tone as matter-of-fact as ever. “Though it’s not a skill I’ve often found useful.”

“Yet here you are,” you said, your lips curving into a faint smile. “A rare indulgence, I imagine.”

“Perhaps,” he admitted, his eyes meeting yours. “Or perhaps I simply wished to remind these people that their idle chatter is beneath notice.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly at that. “Ever the strategist.”

Tywin’s lips twitched again, the closest thing to a smile he allowed himself. “And you? Are you enjoying yourself, or are you as bored as I am?”

Your gaze flicked briefly to the high table, where Mace continued to regale his audience with tales of his supposed accomplishments. “Let’s just say I’m grateful for the distraction.”

He nodded slightly, his expression softening. “Then we’re agreed.”

The two of you moved seamlessly across the floor, your steps perfectly in sync. Around you, the gathered lords and ladies watched in awe, their whispers barely audible over the music. It was a rare sight indeed to see Tywin Lannister partaking in such an activity, let alone with a partner as captivating as you.

As the dance drew to a close, Tywin brought you to a halt with a final flourish, his grip on your waist firm but respectful. The room erupted into polite applause, though neither of you paid it much mind. His eyes remained locked on yours, his expression inscrutable but undeniably focused.

“Thank you for indulging me,” he said quietly, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

You inclined your head, a hint of amusement in your eyes. “The pleasure was mine, my lord.”

As Tywin escorted you back to the high table, you couldn’t help but notice the shift in the atmosphere. The lords and ladies of Highgarden were reminded, in that moment, of the power and unity you and Tywin represented—a union of lion and dragon, commanding respect even in the most mundane of settings.

[daengtokki]

part eleven | litotes // serial killer!Kim Seungmin/afab reader

WC: 15k

RATING: mature/mdni—contains: family trauma (specifically mother/daughter), casual racism, self harm, suicide mention, miscarriage mention, blood play, cannibalism (just a little), things staring ominously from a distance (again), hallucinations

SYNOPSIS: Seungmin floats through life alone, haunted by his memories—keeping himself under control, and quieting his mind the only way he knows how…killing and watching the life leave his victims eyes. When you cross his path on a morning hunt, something new (something forgotten) starts to move inside of him, leading both of you on a path to confront the unspeakable past.

COMMENTS: The first chapter to be given a proper title at posting! And the meaning of this title is a hint for what’s to come in part twelve. Take your time reading...reread everything after this if you'd like (I know a few of you that like doing that, and it's amazing to think about—seriously). I will have part twelve up before I leave for my dominate concerts.

[ ML — DEITY MASTERLIST AND TAGLIST]

[ PLAYLIST PARTS 1—6 ]

The quiet in his head becomes unbearable, and he never imagined he would think that. Quiet. Beautiful, comfortable silence—that’s what he has with you when he gets into bed every night. This isn’t the same.

Seungmin didn’t always come home to his big empty bed at night, not before you came around. Sometimes he would close a bar, stumble to an empty park and will something to come out of the darkness for him in his drunken stupor. Some nights he would check into a hotel just to look at something different for a change. The monotonous torment of his existence became intolerable too often.

He came very close to telling you and Heecheol about his state of mind last spring—May 23rd, to be exact. Seungmin checked into a motel not unlike the Dalkkum in Hongcheon, and the only thing he brought along with him was every pill he could find. Before he went through with it, or almost did, he sat in a hot bath and watched the full moon move across the sky for an hour or so…however long it took the water to go cold—and instead of acting on his big plans, he drank the bottle of champagne he was going to wash everything down with, and a second bottle, and then he passed out on the balcony.

The next morning, he didn’t really want to die anymore. Not as much, at least. The anniversary of that day could have been bad. The anniversary of his mother’s death could have been worse. It wasn’t, because you were there with him.

“Stop…” he pushes until Heecheol releases him. “Please, I can’t.” Seungmin is far too gentle, but…he also kept going and kissed right back, so what right does he have to overreact now? The sting of his lips remains even after Heecheol turns away, but first he looks Seungmin up and down like he’s just realizing he’s in the room. “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

It takes him a few beats before he can turn and force a smile. “It’s fine.”

The static hasn’t returned, at least. The room is still too quiet, too warm, too heavy. Seungmin isn’t quite sure what to do now aside from leave. “I should get back home. Tokki is all alone with the boys.”

“I was going to ask if I could take you two out for dinner, but I guess that wouldn’t work with two little ones.” It’s not the awkwardness of the kiss he’s concerned about, it’s the babies. “But ordering in is always an option. I’m sure getting a good dinner on the table is tough while taking care of them.”

No, Seungmin thinks. He isn’t sure how taxing things will become in the next few weeks and months, but he’s looking forward to finding out. “I’m not sure—“

“Look, I’m sorry I was kind of forward there. But you didn’t…forget it.”

“Today might not be the best for getting together.”

Heecheol turns away again and starts undressing. First his shirt, up and over his head and thrown to the floor. He pulls at his waistband, but the sweats remain on for now, to Seungmin’s relief. Now he remembers his phone going off, and he knows it’s you before he even looks at the screen.

my mother is here

He has to check the name again. Yeah, it’s you—maybe you mistyped, or spoke into your phone and it didn’t hear correctly. Maybe you were just talking to the boys. This day can’t get much more strange. “Huh?” A stupid response, but he feels stupid right now. Heecheol’s eyes are burning right through him as he waits for your reply.

are you almost home?

Thank god he is. The apartment is only a quick walk away. “Yeah, I’ll be there in ten”. “I have to go. I’ll text you.”

“Will you?”

Seungmin isn’t sure how to answer that, but he tries not to huff in frustration. “If I don’t…you text me.”

“Are you going to tell her?”

“I tell her everything.”

***

How does your mother know where you live? Well, because you told her. But you’ve never received so much as a letter from anyone. No gifts or care packages filled with comforts from home, hardly a phone call. Why travel so far when you can’t even text?

The elevator ride is excruciatingly slow, and he can’t even hold his hands still enough to slide the key in the deadbolt. Seungmin is nervous, but the day hasn’t been kind to him. He has reason to feel like he’s going to vomit at any moment.

“Seungmin…” You walk to him, arms folded over your chest, and he knows why. One of the babies is crying in his cot, the other is working his way to the same volume. “She’s in the nursery.”

“Why?”

“Checking it.”

“Checking…checking what?”

She pops out, and Seungmin is actually relieved. The image in his mind was much scarier than what just appeared in front of him, but still, her face is sour. She looks like you, but not so much that it’s an undeniable mother/daughter relationship. She could just as easily be your aunt, or an older sister.

“You must be…” she stops to think, and her accent is much more severe than yours. “Forgive me, I just learned it fifteen minutes ago.”

“Seungmin,” you repeat.

Her eyes move between the two of you. She’s saying it under her breath, as if she’s trying to get a feel for how to say it out loud. S-sungmin, is what comes out. “Well, it’s nice to finally meet the reason…reasons…my daughter never came home.”

She turns away and looks at them. They’re together in their cot, surrounded by the laundry you were folding. The tv is still playing, and Seungmin wants to laugh again when the Twilight Zone theme starts playing in the silent room. He holds it in, but he can’t hold in his smile when he sees them, slowly quieting and soothing each other. How does he respond to that, though? Seungmin looks to you, but your eyes are on the floor, arms still folded across your chest. “Uh, well, I take good care of her if that is a concern.”

The resemblance is a little stronger now. Her lips purse, and she folds her arms across herself just like you do. “Your English is very good.” She sucks her teeth like he tends to do.

“Thank you. Her Korean is getting very good.” Seungmin smiles in your direction, but you look like you’re going to vomit.

“Oh is that right?” Now her hands drop to her hips. “I’m surprised, you never were to good with your school work. And…”

You watch his face grow red, and the clench of his jaw is obvious, especially as she makes her way to the cot. He takes a step closer, and you do the same.

Seungmin jumps when she spins to face you. “And this. Twins! Didn’t think it was in the cards for you, considering…”

Considering what? Seungmin doesn’t say it, but you can tell he’s thinking it. Your mother is being purposely vague and her saccharine voice and smile are making you sick. If she thinks there’s some chance of pushing the two of you apart, she’ll go for it.

Considering what? You know what she’s thinking of course, and you’re surprised she didn’t come out and say the word. Seungmin doesn’t know, and it’s not because you purposely kept it from him—there is nothing to gain by keeping secrets in this house. Maybe it was your fear keeping you from saying the word and dwelling on the possibility even more, or perhaps putting the thought in Seungmin’s head scared you. He was already so worried.

Another smile for you, sweet, but with a question mark behind it. “Excuse us for a moment.” He says, eyes fixed on you, and his fingers gently grip your wrist. Reading him his easier now, but at the moment, your racing heart and swirling stomach aren’t quite sure what to think. Seungmin closes the door, leaving just enough space for him to peek out, and pulls you into his arms. “Don’t worry.”

“I’m not.”

“Liar.” He laughs. “I can handle her attitude. I can handle it for both of us.”

“I’m sorry…there are things I should have told you—“

“We can talk about it later, if you want. First we handle this.” Seungmin looks through the crack in the door. Your mother hasn’t approached the boys, and they’re still quiet. “Fresh shirt?” He starts pulling it over your head before you answer. “She won’t get under my skin.”

***

The whole apartment feels off with someone new in it. It wasn’t quite like this with Heecheol…oh, Seungmin almost forgot. How could he forget? It wasn’t just the kiss that made things weird—everything, including Heecheol himself, was strange. This is more manageable, regardless of how uncomfortable everyone is going to be. She looks at the two of you briefly, then walks toward the cot again. The moment she reaches in, Seungmin reacts. “Have you washed up?”

“Excuse me?”

The moment of awkward silence is excruciating.

You chime in first. “We always wash up and change if we’ve been out…before we touch them. They’re, um, we can’t risk them getting sick.”

“How early were they?” She backs up and eyes the kitchen sink, and you can tell she wants to touch them, hold them. She can’t help it. It doesn’t matter how much she might not actually like Seungmin and your sons, she won’t pass up the opportunity to hold a baby.

“They were due September 4th, and born on June 1st.”

The urge to hold them is too strong, because she heads for the kitchen to wash her hands. But not before looking Seungmin in the eyes. “Lucky.”

They were lucky. Lucky that you kept them alive long enough, and lucky they were healthy when they arrived. Bad luck used followed you everywhere, but not anymore. Now Seungmin follows you everywhere.

“What are my grandson’s names?” Haneul is wrapped tight and scooped up first, and she looks him over with a weird curiosity. “My only grandbabies. Never thought I’d see the day, and that it would be you. Definitely never thought—“

“That is Haneul,” Seungmin interrupts. “Ha…neul.” He repeats it slowly and clearly, but you know she won’t appreciate his patience with this, or with her. “And Haesung. Haesung is his little brother.”

“Do they have middle names…nicknames?”

You jump in before Seungmin gets a chance. “No. Haneul and Haesung.” Letting her call them something else is out of the question.

“No cute nicknames yet.” Seungmin lies, but he sounds convincing. Haneul was Sky before he was born, and Haesung eventually became the new Puppy.

“Shame they look nothing like you.”

“Why are you here? Did you fly all this way just to…just to torment me?”

“You’ll never learn to respect your mother, will you, girl?” Haneul is placed back in his cot, and she takes a moment to touch Haesung’s cheek before turning her full attention to you. “Well, now that you are one, maybe you’ll appreciate how much work it takes. Hopefully your boyfriend…husband…doesn’t go dying on you like your father did.”

The air feels too heavy to breathe, and you’re not sure if it’s the mention of your father’s death, something she never talks about, or the intrusive thought of losing Seungmin. The sleep walk into the woods started it, and it’s been off and on since then. He seems unfazed by the comment, but he has to be—all of it has to be trying to dig in.

His mouth twitches. “Husband.” A week after leaving the hospital, you made your marriage official. “I don’t plan on it.” Seungmin moves between her and the cot so they can see him again. Both have quickly given in to their exhaustion.

“We never do.”

It didn’t take much convincing to get her to leave after the awkward first meeting. Seungmin booked her the only room he could find—the same hotel where Heecheol is currently staying—and sent her on her way. This won’t be the end of her, though. Your mother has never stepped foot in an airport before getting on a plane to Seoul, and she’s never wanted anything to do with you unless it was for her own benefit. She didn’t fly all this way for one brief encounter.

“When she asked for my address, I assumed she wanted to send something. This is not what I imagined. And no warning.”

As irritating as it was, Seungmin can’t help but find it amusing. “The no warning part doesn’t surprise me, for some reason.” He turns on his side and puts a hand on Haesung’s full stomach, and when he closes his eyes, the rest of his day comes rushing back to him. “Oh,” they pop open, but you don’t react. You’re sitting up, focused, drawing pad in your lap—the sound of the pencil moving back and forth on the paper seems to be as soothing to the boys as it is to Seungmin. “Today...earlier today, before I got home.”

“Oh, the guy? You said it was a bust.”

He glances up at you, and you’re staring hard. The pencil goes straight to your mouth as you wait, and he can see your teeth start to work on it. It’s only been a few weeks since you painted the mural in the nursery, and since then you’ve started reclaiming a small part of the former you he never knew. Seungmin can feel you becoming lighter and happier as you adjust to the new life with him and the babies…not just you and him. Neither of you had much time to find each other anywhere but on the surface, or at your very cores. Now you get to explore everything inbetween.

And now he has to tell you he kissed someone else.

The graphite hits the paper again, and the next move you make is ripping it from the pad and crushing it in your fist. “I had a miscarriage a few years ago. I almost died.”

“What?”

“I didn’t know I was pregnant, and it…well, it didn’t grow where it was supposed to. And I almost bled to death.”

“You…almost died?”

"I was relieved when I got that first ultrasound and saw that they were in the right place.” You take a long, hard look at him, and then your pencil is on the paper again. “Hold still for a second.”

Seungmin listens. He doesn’t blink, or let his mouth twitch into the frown he’s holding back. All he wants is to move closer, pull all three of you into his arms and hold on tight. Months ago, he truly thought he wouldn’t have enough of himself for all of you, and he was wrong.

Haesung isn’t happy about being moved from his warm spot on the bed, but you tuck him comfortably into his cot. Seungmin does the same with Haneul, and you remain back to back until they begin dozing off again. And then the bed moves, and you feel him getting close. A hand wraps gently around the back of your neck, but his fingertips only graze and fall away from you. Seungmin reaches for the crumpled piece of paper and smooths it out the best he can. A rough sketch stares back at him—his eyes, the slope of his nose, and the soft curves of his jaw. It’s a good depiction of him…like looking at a faded photograph, but seeing it through the eyes of whoever took it. It’s how you see him. He crumples it up again, and wonders why you were unsatisfied with it.

“Sometimes when I’m in bed with you, when I can’t sleep, I think about that night.” It comes from nowhere. You’re not sure why you mention it at all.

The memory is now tucked away where he has to reach for it to truly remember. He counts in his head, seven months…three weeks? Here the two of you are, two babies, and it’s barely been eight months since you’ve crossed paths. Seungmin prefers remembering that very first encounter on the street…walking you home. He likes thinking back to how it felt to fall for someone so quickly and (for him) recklessly; how it felt to want to touch you, to draw pain and pleasure from you. Break your neck, kiss you, find the fear that was already rising to the surface, and then protect you from it.

He looks at you now like he looked at you then, the strange, mysterious thing that you still are. “Why do you think about it?”

Seungmin seems surprised when you turn to your sketch pad again. “I try to remember everything, exactly how I felt and what was going through my head. It’s hard. Maybe I blocked some of it out.”

“What do you remember?”

“I still remember where I went when everything went dark. The pain of giving birth brought back memories from that first time. It went dark then, too. A different dark, but…”

He’s hypnotized by the measured movements of your hand, but he hears every word you say. You’ve died before, came back, died again.

Your attention turns to the walls around you, the half open curtain being moved by the warm breeze. “I remember being so afraid of dying in this room when you tucked me back into bed. The locked door, the knife. The pain I was in...”

“I was worried. I was afraid you’d get hurt if you tried running home in the dark. And that I’d never see you again. I actually thought I’d be able to explain myself and change your mind by morning.”

“The thoughts running through my head that night might surprise you.”

“Like?”

For no reason, you feel embarrassed to admit it. “I wanted you closer when you got back into bed, but I guess that could have been the tea taking hold.”

“I wanted you to feel safe. That’s all that mattered, but it was impossible.”

“Waking up the next morning was nice, until I remembered. Everything after that was adrenaline.”

Seungmin moves closer, “even the kiss?”

“We talked about the kiss.”

“We did," he whispers. “The way I saw that night in my mind was perfect. I was going to be different, finally…I don’t think I knew it then. I didn’t know how much I just wanted to fall asleep and wake up with you still there.” Even after all this time, saying every word that comes to him, no filter, feels like jumping. Fight or flight tries to kick in. Looking back and forth between the babies grounds him again. “I’m glad you kissed me, even if it was mostly to distract me.”

The nerves in his voice are more obvious than he thinks. “Mostly because I couldn’t resist your mouth.”

He laughs, and his entire body relaxes into his fluffed up pillows.

The sketchpad is back on your side table, and a quick peak into the cot lets you know Haesung is sound asleep. “I still can’t.” You wait for him to look at you, and eventually, he does.

Seungmin’s smile creeps slowly across his lips as he examines your face. He peeks into Haneul’s cot—sound asleep—and then back at you.

“She’ll try to pull us apart. I know she will.” That’s why you brought it up, but it didn’t occur to you until just this moment. “I’ve never been allowed to be happy or satisfied, not in peace. I thought I finally won by being seven thousand miles away.”

The smile fades quickly, and he struggles for a moment to find the right words. What is it you need to hear? Seungmin can tell you a million times how much he loves you… “nothing can pull us apart, just—“ He stops himself. The word still hanging on the tip of his tongue, he doesn’t know why he thinks it. Death. “She can try if she wants to, but she’s going up against me.”

You’ve missed his cocky attitude. He’s become so good and soft, and sometimes you forget who still lives deep down inside. Seungmin can still drive his knife into someone’s neck if he feels like it, or slam their face into a wall. He’ll break his knuckles sending a message. “C’mere.”

“Hm?”

“Get over here,” you purr, and pull your shirt over your head.

Seungmin’s eyes drop to your chest, and his tongue pokes out as they jump back to your eyes. His crawl to you is slow, and he cages you in with his arms as he comes down for a kiss. The heat is already radiating from him when his shirt comes off, but he pulls back.

The lamplight from your side of the bed illuminates the deep cuts across his chest. They look fresh, ready to bleed again. “What’s this?” You latch onto his arm and hold him there. “Minnie?” He flinches when your thumb grazes the length of the biggest, deepest one, but relaxes almost immediately. “Did you just do this?”

“Yes…”

“Why?” The look on his face as you touch it makes you think he just needed to feel something under his skin, and he still needs that. Or maybe it’s more penance. You push again, glide your finger across it, and his stomach tightens as he quietly moans. Fresh blood trickles out when your nail digs in, and Seungmin grips the pillow beneath your head to steady himself. Another release. The satisfaction in his face sends a pulse up your thighs, and he can feel it—your legs are forced open, and he’s easing his fingers into you before your mouth can close around the newly opened wound. His gentle touch, the sharp taste of his blood…your head swims and you ache for more of him. Your teeth sink into skin, and the warm metallic taste fills your mouth as his fingers are replaced with the impatient push of his cock.

“More,” he whines. Blood continues to trickle, but it slows. The pressure from your tongue seems to hit the right spot, but not for long. “More…please.” He’s careful, and you know he’s using all of his restraint to fuck you slowly. Seungmin pushes into you and against your mouth for more.

You close your lips around him and suck at the hot, salty skin; bite until you taste more blood. Every moan makes you bite down a little harder, and as his pace picks up and you feel an orgasm rising, your teeth sink in and break new skin. The sound he makes is beyond any climax you’ve given him—pain and relief mixed with ecstasy. He struggles to hold himself steady, but you pull him down against you, kiss up his chest and neck, and make even more of a mess. “Minnie…are you okay?”

Seungmin kisses you deeply and cleans the blood from your lips. “No, you’re being too gentle on me.”

“Gentle?” You look down at the open cuts and bite marks on his chest. He smiles when you touch him again. “Too gentle?” And he laughs when you lock your legs around his hips.

“Let me feel how much you love me.”

He doesn’t have to ask again. You grab his shoulders and sink your teeth in, and this time you don’t think about the pain you cause him, the mess you’ll make…the mark that’ll be left behind. Seungmin groans as you break the skin again, and he licks his lips as you pull away with a piece of him between your teeth. You keep your eyes on him—you can’t look at what you did yet, but…

His soft cry hits your ears. Haesung, little brother, who sometimes feels like Haneul’s big brother. What time is it? That cry forces you out of whatever trance you’re in, no matter how deep it is. You wipe at your mouth in your half-sleep, and then your eyes open to the pitch black of the bedroom. The smell of blood is still in your nose, and you jump up when you remember… “Min?” You reach and set your hand on his stomach, warm and damp with sweat, and you don’t move until you feel him take a breath.

Haesung cries again, just for a moment. He’s coming out of the same deep sleep you are.

“Seungmin?” Your eyes start to wake up, and your vision clears. The marks on his chest are red and angry and fresh, but not much worse than they were before you got your hands on them.

Seungmin stirs when you run a finger across them again. He mumbles and closes his hand around yours, and sighs when you kiss his chest. “Hey, you alright?”

“Had a weird dream.” You wipe at your mouth and bring blood back on the heel of your palm. “You should probably work on pulling out until I get back on birth control.”

“Oh, you think you’ll get pregnant again?”

“It’s possible. I’m not sure I’m ready for that yet.”

“Yet?” He sits up and kisses your cheek. “Tell me about your dream.”

“I bit some…flesh off of you, and I think I ate it.”

“Oh?”

You weren’t sure what kind of reaction to expect, but the little grin on his face isn’t very surprising. “Yeah, while we were having sex.”

He notices you examining his chest, and looks down at it himself. “You ate a piece of me…” he whispers, and the grin doesn’t fade. “Would you consider this a dream…or a nightmare?” Seungmin wipes at your mouth and stares you down as he waits for an answer.

“Somewhere in between. Do you have a fetish you haven’t told me about?”

“No, but the thought of you doing it and enjoying yourself is a little hot. So…maybe, yes.” He looks around nervously, fidgets with the blanket. “It feels romantic.”

“Consuming your lover to have him be a part of you forever…romantic? Yes, but having you here with me is so much nicer.”

“Okay, I won’t ask you to...eat me. But thank you for confirming what I already knew.”

You slide your hand across his thigh and onto his growing cock. “What’s that?”

“Dangsineun isanghaeyo.”

***

Seungmin doesn’t resist when you clean and bandage the newly open cuts on his chest. He tossed and turned and scratched in his sleep, and the sheets were smeared with bright, fresh blood before you changed them. He looks up at you with tired eyes as you work—maybe something else. He looks sleepy and sad, like he’s still waiting on more forgiveness from you, but there’s nothing more to forgive right now. You bend down and kiss him, and he returns it with a smile.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?”

He shakes his head and sits up, “thank you.”

“They have to go outside today, I almost forgot. They have their first check-up in a few hours.”

“That’s right.” Seungmin crawls to the cot and scoops up a mostly awake Haneul. “We get to see how well you two are doing, and how much weight you’ve put on with us.” He holds him against his bandaged chest, and you can hear the soft noises coming from Haneul. “You feel a little heavier, buddy. Dongsaengeul hwaginhae bopssida.”

Haesung is asleep, and he’s still. The moment you lay your eyes on him, your body goes cold. “Haesung?” Something feels off about him.

Seungmin is up and on your side of the bed a moment later, Haneul still in his arms. Maybe you’re overreacting and he’s in a deeper sleep than usual, but he’s pale, and the only movement is the tiny flutter of his lashes. You grab his foot and rub the skin, and he gives a half-hearted kick, “something is wrong,” and a feeble cry. You take Haneul from him, but Seungmin is surprisingly calm as he sits at the edge of the bed.

“Mwo-ga jalmotdwaesneoyo? What is it, puppy? Jo wassoyo.” He sets his palm on Haesung’s forehead, tilts his chin up, and his eyes flutter open.

You’re too scared to say anything.

Seungmin looks back at you and forces a smile, but his attention returns to Haesung. He rolls him onto his side and rubs his back, and you start to wonder if he prepared himself for something like this. Why didn’t you? You got comfortable and felt safe too quickly—how could you be so careless?

After another two seconds of slow, excruciating silence, Haesung sucks in a lungful of air and starts to cry. It feels like the delivery room all over again; the horrible silence, holding your breath for the smallest cry. This one grows louder and louder, and you’ve never heard anything so wonderful. Haneul squirms a little in your arms, and he decides to match his brother’s screams.

“I’m sorry.” Your throat tightens up, and the tears that roll down your cheek fall onto Haneul’s messy hair. You watch as another follows, and from the corner of your eye, you see Seungmin reach for you.

“Sorry, why?” He wipes at your cheek, but it doesn’t make stopping any easier.

“I panicked. You didn’t.”

He shakes his head and smiles again, much easier this time. “Last month my therapist told me…reminded me…I have gangbak jangae, very strong intrusive thoughts. I think we talked about this before.”

You nod at him and wipe at the tears burning your eyes. “We have.”

His mind jumps back to the static in Heecheol’s hotel room. “Not just the voices, or the noises. Or the urges. I haven’t told you how scared I’ve been of something happening once we got them home.”

“No, you haven’t. You’ve been so confident, and perfect.”

“I’ve been staying up all night…watching them, talking to them, learning everything I can.“

“Learning?”

“How to care for them. What to do if something happens. I’m sure you’ve realized I shut off your alarm once or twice to let you sleep. I fed and changed them. Because I was already awake.”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m sore, and you’re so tired.”

Seungmin is careful picking up Haesung, but he seems fine now. His cheeks are pink, and his cries don’t quiet until he’s safe against Seungmin’s chest. “Sore?”

“I have to feed them, or pump every time I get up or they get a little painful…but—" his face falls, “but it’s not that bad.”

“I’m sorry, I thought I was helping.”

The look in his eyes hurts. Seungmin hasn’t done much in the past few months except prepare, but he’ll beat himself up for this, you know that. “Five or six solid hours of sleep is a good exchange for some soreness. But promise me you’ll sleep.”

“Promise. I’ll sleep when we get back. We’re going to the hospital now so Haesung can get looked at.”

***

It looks like a smile, but it can’t be yet. It’s too early, but Seungmin is going to pretend that’s what he saw anyway. Haneul just yawns back at his dad’s excited laugh, and luckily, Haesung follows with a cry for attention. “I’m right here, pup.”

Haesung was sent home after a few hours with a clean bill of health, so you’re convinced you overreacted this morning, but still, both of you will be on high alert for the next few days—sleeping in shifts, mostly. One of you has to be awake with them 24/7, and you know Seungmin will insist on taking the brunt of it. He’s already doing it, sending you away for a nap when he told you he’d rest after their appointment.

“Minnie, you promised, just for a few hours…get into bed and close your eyes.” He’s still quietly singing when you walk up behind him and rub his back—for a minute there, I lost myself…I lost myself. Even as he sits hunched over on the living room floor, his hushed singing voice is pretty, but he’s still so shy about it. “Please, puppy.”

That grabs his attention, and he turns his head toward you. “Can we talk first?”

“Sure, what about?”

“About yesterday, when I was following that guy. Heecheol texted me, and I ended up losing track of him.” That doesn’t feel right. “Actually, I thought I heard him…his voice, I heard him calling out, but he wasn’t there. That distracted me.”

“That’s understandable. But he texted you, too?”

Seungmin is relieved he doesn’t have to explain the intricacies of his mind to you. “Yeah, he’s here in Seoul. I sent your mother to the same hotel he’s staying at. But I also visited him, and that’s where I was when you told me she was here.”

“Oh, how is he?”

“Uh, he kissed me.” His chest hurts from how erratic his breathing has become. He wasn’t expecting to just come out with it.

You keep quiet for a moment while you think. You admit this isn’t the biggest shock, but Seungmin’s uneasiness means there’s more to it.

“He asked me to visit, so I figured I’d stop before heading home, since it was on the way…”

“And you kissed him back?”

All he can manage is a nod while he nuzzles his face against Haesung. Tiny fingers clench around a lock of hair and tug, and Seungmin smiles despite the sick feeling in his stomach.

“Did you,” you stop and give yourself another moment. “H-how do you feel about it now?”

“Strange. I don’t know why I did it.”

He stares at you, waiting for something…anything. Are you angry? Maybe you should be, but you don’t feel anything boiling to the surface, or ripping at the seams right now. There’s a knot in your stomach bouncing around, giving you that weird homesick feeling you get when you think too much about the past, or the uncertain future.

His eyes move from Haesung to you. Seungmin usually has no problem with eye contact, but tonight that’s not the case. Every time the intensity gets to be too much for him, they find something else.

“What was going through your mind when it happened, before it happened?”

Most of it is just coming back to him. “I felt off when I got there, but I was already feeling that when I heard his voice in my head.”

“Off how?”

“Uhm, dizzy. Everything was loud, like how I feel when it gets really bad.”

You set a hand on him, move your fingers through his hair. “But you didn’t want to kill him, I assume.”

Seungmin still can’t wrap his head around how intense and uncomfortable everything was until the moment they made contact. “No. Everything calmed down when he kissed me.” Maybe he didn't have to mention that part. Seungmin looks at you when you don’t respond, and one Xanax later he finally goes to sleep.

*

A good first check-up has done wonders for some of your anxieties (now you have new ones), but you still find yourself glancing at both of them much more frequently as you get comfortable on the floor. It doesn’t last long. Your phone vibrates and you know who it is before checking.

So, are you two going to take me out for dinner?

She can’t be serious. Two preemies, barely settled at home, and she expects to be taken out to dinner. But you’re not surprised, because selfish comes naturally to your mother. Why didn’t your sister come along and entertain her? It may have been slightly more stressful, but it’s better than her being alone.

“We aren’t taking the babies out anywhere crowded yet, but I can order in and we can have dinner here in a few hours.”

hours?

“Seungmin just went to try and sleep. He’s been up all night.”

aren’t you supposed to be the one up all night?

Oh my god. "Don’t worry, mom, I was still up every 2.5 hours. I’ll send you a ride at 7. In the meantime, go outside and try some street food. It’s nice out today.”

You decide to ignore the next message, but nothing comes. They both stare up at you with sleepy eyes, and you watch as they get closer and closer to it. Now you sneak to the bedroom, quietly click the door open, and walk softly (and quickly) to the sketchpad in your drawer. Seungmin already seems to be out. He has to be, because there’s no hint of a scowl, no pinched eyebrows. But he definitely fell asleep anxious about his confession…as he should.

The second sketch you started last night feels better than the first, but not having him next to you for reference makes it difficult. You pull up your camera roll and open the album you made just for this—every angle of him you managed to capture in the last week; awake, sleeping, candid, and a few where he actually smiled sweetly for you. Looking at him like this makes him feel distant somehow, like you should be aching for him even though he in the next room. It almost makes you want to push away the bad creeping up inside of you and get into bed with him. Could that make things better? Would giving in and forgiving be easier?

After a solid two hours, your hand starts to cramp. Haesung starts to stir again, and this time he’s up fast and hungry. Seungmin will hear him, and you can’t have that yet. “Are you hungry, pup?” He doesn’t settle right away when you set him against your chest, but as soon as you get him into the right position, he knows he’s getting what he wants. “Maybe we can get you fed before your brother wakes up." But that’s unlikely, and you know it. Haneul will know his brother is up, so you might as well make a bottle now. Seungmin is awake, though, so your plans of working on the music box after they eat will have to wait. It will get fixed someday.

“Minnie?” The noise coming from the bedroom gets louder, and it’s odd. Haesung is back on his pillow while you check on him, and being put back down gets him crying again. “I’ll be ten seconds, sweetheart. I promise.” The look he gives you feels like understanding, but he only quiets for a moment. “Hana…” You keep your eyes on him as he looks around for you. “…dul…set…”

The doorknob clicks loudly despite your best efforts. “Net…daaasut…" The room is dark, as if it were already well passed sunset, but your eyes start to adjust and pick up the scene in front of you. “Yeo— Seungmin?”

The movement at the edge of the bed isn’t right. It feels off, and it’s not even because of the popping in your ears or the spots in your eyes. It’s the dark shape, much darker than the room around it; the shape of Seungmin still under the covers; both things existing in the same space. The shape isn’t him. Of course it isn’t him, you know that, because the thing at the edge of the bed is wrong. It doesn’t belong here. You can smell it. The feeling of dread you felt in the woods is here, in the house…in the bedroom, looming over him. The charm around your neck feels heavy as you sneak toward the light, but when your fingers touch it, the thing moves. “J-jeoli gayo.” Under your breath, because nothing else will come out.

Finally, the lamp is within reach, and when light fills the corner of the bedroom, it’s gone. There’s nothing except him—the steady breaths of Seungmin beneath the covers, and Daengmo peeking up from your side of the bed. You’re just tired. Even after your nap, you’re sleep deprived and anxious about the babies…

“Oh…boys.”

Both cry in unison right as you think it, and the shape is almost forgotten as you run back to them. The first thing you see is them tucked safely in their spots, both red in the face. The second thing you see is it…again. No, it’s them. Yours, white and soft with painfully blue eyes, and his, the inverted version—as black as the shape, but this isn’t what you saw a moment ago.

You kneel in front of the boys, set your hands on them, but your attention doesn’t leave the dogs. “What do you want?” It comes out like a whisper caught in your chest. As soon as one baby begins to settle, the white one stands on all fours and stretches like a cat before disappearing into the nursery. The other one doesn’t move yet. He’s staring you down with eyes like the ones you wake up to every morning, and as Haneul finally quiets, the dog looks to its left, then its right, and he bounces away. “It’s okay, boys, umma is here, and daddy will be up soon. Everything is okay.”

“Daddy is awake.”

When you look back, he’s mid-yawn and mid-stretch, and a tired smile is plastered across his face. “You barely slept.” And whatever was in there with him couldn’t have helped. He had to have felt something.

“I feel good, though. It was a good sleep.”

“Was it?” You have to tell him what you saw. “No bad dreams?”

He shakes his head and joins you on the floor. “No bad dreams, not that I remember.”

Maybe later would be better. It’s not the most ideal thing to be dwelling on over dinner, so for now you focus on remembering every detail for when the time does come. “Are you hungry?”

***

Even when he dresses up, it’s still casual—his closet is full of the most basic pieces, yet somehow, whatever he throws together looks like it was styled by a professional. He’s always effortlessly cool, and it’s not surprising how easily he seems to pick up the men and women he goes for. Tonight is no different, except that he looks…cute. When he walks out of the bedroom, he laughs at the look on your face.

The black denim shorts hit just above his knee, just tight enough around his slender thighs; socks pulled up tight; an overpriced white t-shirt under a short sleeve button-up. There’s a little embroidered bear on the chest pocket, and Seungmin runs his hand over it and makes sure you see. He has his black rim glasses on tonight to pull it all together.

You jump up and flatten the front of your outfit. “It’s just dinner, you didn’t have to go crazy.” The green linen dress you bought in December, the one that looked like the dress you lost along with the rest of your belongings, is just as casual. The most important part is that it still fits you the same way it did when you tried it on, so you’re back to your old self, physically. “That bear looks familiar.”

“I put the same one on the overalls they don’t fit into yet.”

“Oh, no bear for me?”

Seungmin doesn’t always catch your sarcasm. “There were only three, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, as long as you guys match.”

“What’s for dinner? And are we prepared for her?”

You tidied up and set the table, yes, but mentally preparing yourself is pointless. The amount of effort you put into yourself, the apartment, and the babies will not matter, but you try anyway. “I put rice on, and there’s plenty of banchan left. I was going to order bulgogi since she didn’t give us much time. That might be tame enough for her.”

“Order it now, and we can pretend we cooked everything. I’ll go pick her up, and I’ll take my time.”

Seungmin doesn’t have to take his time, because the traffic does all the work for him. The food will be delivered and ready to serve while he sits at this red light, he thinks. This is why he only drives when it’s truly necessary, and he guesses this is one of those times—whatever keeps your mother happy and off your back is worth the extra annoyance to him.

“You can tell her I’m here.” He's not keen on the idea of her having his phone number. And now is the perfect opportunity to close his eyes...

“Seungmin?”

It doesn’t get through to him the first time. He’s reclined in his seat, music playing softly.

“Mo!”

“Fuck, what? Oh…”

“Sorry buddy, didn’t realize you actually fell asleep. I don’t think you can park here long, though.” Heecheol leans in a little, hands gripping the car door. “I can show you where the parking lot is.”

He’s still not completely with it until he sits up and grabs the steering wheel. “No, no I’m not staying. I’m just picking Tokki’s mother up. She’s staying here, since we don’t have the extra room anymore.”

“Oh. Gotcha. I thought maybe I was getting a visitor. I wasn’t sure if you got my message yesterday.”

Blood rushes to his face, through his ears. Heecheol says something else, but he misses it completely. He wasn’t sure if he got the text? “Cheoli, I was here yesterday. In your room. Don’t you remember?” Another night of drinking too much, perhaps. Maybe Heecheol was drunk yesterday, but Seungmin would have tasted it on him. He looks at the brace on his wrist, and wonders if he’s on a particularly strong pain medication, or maybe he was just high from swiping pills from work. No, what the fuck am I thinking?

“Mo, I think I would remember you visiting me.”

So he doesn’t remember the kiss. Heecheol doesn’t remember him almost fainting on his room, pushing him away after they shoved their tongues down each other’s throats like they’ve been waiting years to do it. Meanwhile, Seungmin can’t get the feeling out of his mind. Now what. “I must have had a very strange, vivid dream them.” He opens the glove compartment and pulls out the pack of cigarettes stashed there, and he goes as far as striking a match before realizing what he’s doing. He shakes the flame away and throws the pack back where he got it. A cigarette is what he needs right now, and what he can’t have.

“Yeah, I guess so. And her mom is here?”

“She surprised us with a visit yesterday. And I see her coming right now.”

“Oh yeah, I can see the resemblance. I’ll leave you to it, and maybe I’ll see you soon. Cute shirt.”

Heecheol tugs at Seungmin’s collar before he walks off, and now he’s left alone while your mother approaches. Her scowl actually makes him nervous, but you told him she looks like that all the time…and he can’t remember what you called it. You said you do it, too, but Seungmin doesn’t think he’s seen a look like this on your face, not since the first time he told you to leave his apartment and never come back.

The door unlocks, and she jumps in without a word. He thinks that’s less remembering what he looks like, and more you telling her what kind of car to look for. Mom isn’t nearly as charmed by his looks as you are.

“Hello.” Seungmin adjusts his glasses and smiles as sweetly as he can. She may not find him irresistible, but he’ll be damned if she doesn’t think he’s cute. “I hope the hotel was comfortable.”

“It was alright. Better than the one by the airport. Who was the boy at your car a moment ago?” She looks around, expecting to find some clue as to why he was leaning in through the window.

“Oh, he’s a good friend of mine. He is also staying at this hotel while he’s in Seoul.”

“Is he coming to dinner?”

You might not appreciate a surprise guest. You definitely won’t appreciate a surprise guest if it’s Heecheol. Seungmin stifles a laugh as he thinks about it; your unbearable mother, and the guy he stupidly kissed behind your back. “No, not tonight. Just the three of us. Five of us.”

“It smells good in here.” He kicks off his shoes and waits for her to follow, which she eventually catches onto and does. “Do you want some tea, or coffee? Maybe something cold.” He decides to remain helpful, overly sweet, and charming no matter what she throws at him, if she does start throwing.

“Coffee is good.”

The three of you are not here to greet them, surprisingly. Even after pouring a mug and fixing it how your mother requests, you don’t emerge from the bedroom, and you don’t make a sound. He excuses himself. “She might be in the middle of feeding them. I’ll check.”

You are—cross legged in bed with one single lamp illuminating the dark room. Haesung is in your arms, and a mostly empty bottle sits next to Haneul.

“Hey, need some help?”

You shake your head. If your hair wasn’t pulled back, the ends would tickle Haesung’s pink cheeks. Seungmin can make out his shiny eyes staring up at you as he eats, and it’s a relief to see him so content after this morning. He can’t see you, though. You’re hunched over, head down and face hidden.

“Everything okay?” He barely hears your mhm as he approaches. Seungmin is stupidly mesmerized by your exposed skin—the curve of your shoulder and neck…your chest. When you finally look to him, he sees your wet cheeks, and your red eyes. “Oh, what’s wrong? Are you…are you alright?”

All you give him is a shaky nod, and his stomach turns when he kneels to grab your free hand. He can see how puffy your face is, and that you’ve been crying for a while. There’s a wet spot on Haesung’s blanket where you let your tears fall. “Did your mom say something?”

“No, it’s not her.”

It hits him, and for a moment, he wonders why you didn’t feel this way a few hours ago. Why didn’t you give him the response he deserved? You seemed almost dismissive of it, but the feeling has had time to sit—in your head, in your stomach, your heart. “Oh. I fucked up. I’m so sorry.” Your silence, a single sniffle and a wipe of your cheek confirms it. “I really fucked up.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“If we hadn’t met, and you found him, would he be as special to you?” Haesung unlatches when he senses his father, and he does his best to turn toward him. You adjust and cover yourself, and Seungmin notices how quickly you hide from him. “Like us?”

“Heecheol doesn’t know me the way you do. He likes what he sees on the surface, and the memories we have.” Lying to you isn’t going to help, so he just says exactly what comes to him. “I guess it’s possible. If we didn’t meet, I don’t know where I would be right now…but if you had left, I think I would have killed myself.”

You believe him, but being a reason for him to keep going while his mind wages war against him is a strange feeling. One of the reasons. He has two more, and one is comfortable in his arms right now. “Seungmin, please don’t fall in love with someone else.”

***

Your mother stares, tries to figure you out. She thinks she can, but you’re not the person you were before you left home a year ago. You’re not even the person you were the day after that night in December. Nothing has changed you quite like your babies have, but Seungmin comes very close.

Haesung is in her arms, calm for the moment, but his eventual fussing finally moves her attention away from you. “When you were a baby, you screamed constantly until you were three or four months old.” She brings him closer and runs a thumb across his brow. “Colic.”

“So did—“ you stop yourself. You refuse to help her start an argument. As far as your mother is concerned, you were the difficult child. “They’ve both been okay so far. They sleep well.”

Seungmin interjects. He senses your uncomfortable shift all the way in the kitchen. “Haemuljeon?”

“Yes, please.” It’s the first you’ve eaten since this morning, and shoving several pieces in your mouth is temping, but you wait.

“What is it?” She pokes at one with her fork before scooping it up and inspecting. “Oh, shrimp?”

“Seafood pancake, shrimp and green onions. I left the squid out.”

To your surprise, three little pancakes quickly disappear, and Seungmin is obviously pleased with himself. He spent a whole twenty minutes throwing them together.

The fourth one is held up and examined again, “These are very good.”

“Thank you.”

“You made these?”

He nods and puts on his cutest smile again. “I did. They don’t take much time.” But it falls when he sees the look she gives you—a mix of annoyance and impatience, he thinks. Seungmin still remembers that look very well, and he knows how it feels to be on the receiving end. “Uhm…”

“Your husband cooks for you?”

This may be the most uncomfortable silence the apartment has ever experienced, and that includes the murder. Both of them. Sometimes Seungmin forgets about the first one you witnessed—it feels like so long ago now. He knew you were the one after that night.

He remains silent a few moments longer. Your mother needs to hear you stand up for yourself.

“We don’t think much about who does what. And he was raised well…he knows how to take care of himself, and us. And I know how to care for them. So, yes.”

The look on her face is satisfying, but visions of her bloodshot eyes and blue lips take over his mind and he can’t push them away. Her throat crumpling under his grip. Begging for mercy, gasping for air, pleading forgiveness for how she treated you. No, he has to push it away. Seungmin can’t kill your mother—can he? No, not a very smart idea. For now, it lives in his head. “Tokki made everything else.”

Not a complete lie. You made the rice, and you made three different banchan…just not today.

“Tokki?”

He turns away to laugh at her harsh pronunciation, grabs the rice and sides, and nods as he sets everything down. “Tokki…” he repeats, soft and slow. “It means rabbit.”

“Cute.” She doesn’t seem amused, though. “Rabbit.”

Seungmin wants to take the baby from her, but doing it gracefully, and like he isn’t irritated by everything about her right now, is difficult. Luckily, Haesung starts to get upset and pulls away, as if he can sense his father’s need for him. It works perfectly. Your mother hands him off without a second thought, and Seungmin gets the cuddle that he wants.

“Does…Tokki…know your friend from the hotel?”

“Huh? Oh…yes.”

Heecheol? You can’t lift your eyes to look at him, but you can feel his on you. He was visiting Heecheol again. Seungmin left for thirty minutes and found time to visit him, and in front of your mother, no less.

You stand and keep your cheek pressed against Haneul as you head for the bedroom, and nobody says a word as you do.

“Sore spot?” She took a chance mentioning Heecheol. It could have gone either way, and it paid off in her favor. You were right. Even though the meeting was brief and accidental, you don’t know that, and Seungmin has to hope that you’ll trust and believe him when he goes in there to talk to you again. But he doesn’t go right away. “No, no we’re all friends.”

No more comments, she just gives him a nod.

“But maybe,” he holds Haesung up and looks him over, “you’re due for a change. We should check before we have dinner.” It’s a valid reason to disappear for a moment. “I’ll be right back.”

***

The room is still dark, but the curtain is pulled back enough to let the light from the setting sun spill across the floor. He’s nervous. In all of your time together, the only tense moment between the two of you was the morning you cut his hair, the nightmare you had about him…the day he found out about the pregnancy test. That was a silly thing to fight over, if you could even call it that. Seungmin knows this is different. He understands you’re feeling left out right now—betrayed, maybe. It seems like a strong word, but if you knew how deeply he kissed him, you’d be even angrier.

Haneul is cuddled up next to you. There’s enough light to see his tiny hands reach toward your face and successfully grab at strands of your hair. “Can I come in?”

“It’s your bedroom.”

He doesn’t correct you. It hasn’t been his bedroom in a long time, and he doesn’t want to be pushed back to a time when it was his…alone. “I know you don’t want to be out there with her, and maybe not with me either. I can entertain her if you’d rather have your dinner in here.”

“No. I’m not going to make you sit out there with her by yourself. That’s not fair.”

He’s relieved when you sit and look at him, and even more relieved to see your face dry. No tears this time. “He saw me sitting in the car waiting. I didn’t go looking for him. We talked for two minutes.” No, maybe this time it’s anger.

“She’s probably listening to us right now. I’m just making this easier for her.”

“Then she can hear me tell you how much I love you, and nothing she can do or say is going to change that.”

His phone buzzing in his pocket is deafening—one text, and then another. And a third. Heecheol has impeccable timing.

“What did he say?”

Seungmin pulls out his phone and reads. “Hope your dinner is going well. In-laws can be pretty scary…I’ve heard, at least. No personal experience. I hope her umma is as kind as yours was.”

You scoff.

“I was trying to remember everything I did yesterday, and I definitely didn’t see you. I hope your head is in a good place. Are you keeping up with your meds?” And the last one; “sorry, I’m already a few drinks in, and I hate drinking alone. I hope I can see you all sometime soon. Especially the twins.”

“He doesn’t remember yesterday?”

“No. I mentioned it when I saw him, and he didn’t know what I was talking about.”

Heecheol not remembering means nothing to you. “But you remember. It happened, right?”

Did it? Would it be unusual if the memory was entirely false? It’s not a thought he’s going humor. The last thing he should be doing right now is trivializing what ultimately comes down to cheating. However small it seems in the grand scheme of things, it’s as big as anything in your mind. “Yes. Even if I dreamed it, what I feel is very real, and I feel awful. I’ll do anything I can to fix things.”

You decide to leave it at that, mostly because you have no idea what to say. Forgiving and forgetting the whole thing would be easy, because you do believe his remorse is real, but you still think some part of him enjoyed the kiss. If he falls into that trap again, how could you forgive him? It might make him the charming, heartless killer you assumed he was before he convinced you otherwise. “Let’s try to get through dinner.”

***

It could have been worse. Your mother ate with almost no complaints, though she made sure to question whether you actually made dinner.

“You were always clumsy in the kitchen.”

You never let me cook with you, you thought. Seungmin lets me cook with him. He speaks to me like his mother probably spoke to him—patiently, sweetly. Defeat was working its way in all day, and you’re not surprised that it won. You took everything quietly. No disagreement, no back-talk, no arguing.

"You quit your job? One income household must be nice. I assume you have a job?" Seungmin wasn’t prepared for it. He was not prepared for her to question you as a house wife, but also question not supplying an income in the same breath...he’s settling uncomfortably into the realization of what you had to fight back against growing up. Nothing you did was good enough. Everything you did was (and still is) wrong. Watching you hunched over at the table made him think of his mother, who did her best raising him, and as far as he’s concerned, did a great job despite the obstacles she faced. Maybe she too sat at the kitchen table just like this after Seungmin went to bed; scared, heartbroken, helpless. Putting that smile on for you the next morning was only possible after a long night of sorrow.

You don’t even have him to turn to for comfort right now, or you don’t want him. All you have right now are the boys, and you’re watching the clock tick down to feeding time.

“You could always move back home, bring your husband and kids…”

“What?” Seungmin sits up and looks to you, but you’re still staring at your half empty plate of food, completely checked out, and he doesn’t blame you. “Uhm, I don’t think so. But…my mother grew up in the US, well, she lived there for six years when she was a kid.”

That grabs her attention more than anything else has. “She did? Why didn’t she stay?”

“She missed home. But it was a good time in her life, I know that. She spoke English well enough to teach me when I was little.” He hates these moments where they seem to be getting on like good friends, but he’s just trying to get you through the night. “Which was very lucky when I met you.” Finally, you look up at him, but he can sense your mother look somewhere else. She turns away, takes a drink—anything to get through the moments where Seungmin lays out his affection. Your mother doesn’t even want him loving you.

You say nothing in return, and at last, the alarm goes off.

He hopes when he returns, you’ll be better. If not, he needs to fix what he did. Seungmin has never had to do this, so he’s in the dark, and who can he turn to for advice? It can’t be Heecheol, not this time. He needs his mother…he needs— “Oh.”

It’s late, and his aunts will certainly be sleeping, but he pulls up her info and calls anyway. When he left five years ago, he told himself he wouldn’t burden his family anymore, but he’s been sending cards and checks to his aunts for four of those years. Phone calls are rare, and visits even moreso, mostly because he's still afraid his mask will come off without realizing, and they'll see the monster he turned into.

It rings a few times, and just when he expects the answering machine to chime in, he hears the sound of a landline receiver click.

“Yeoboseyo?” She sounds sleepy, and a little stern. Probably wondering who the hell would call her after 10pm.

“Gomo annyeonghaseyo!”

“Eh? Puppy?”

“Yes it’s me, I’m sorry for bothering you so late. I hope you weren’t asleep.”

Her laugh takes Seungmin back ten years. “No, I’m still a night owl unless I take something. Is everything alright? Haven’t heard from you in some time.”

“Everything is alright. I’m sorry I haven’t kept in touch.”

“Don’t apologize! You have your own life to live, and we have your cards to let us know you’re still out there. But…you sound like you need something. That's a nice change.”

It’s no surprise that Eun-ji can hear something in his voice, both of his aunts could read him like a book unless he worked hard to hide it. “Just some advice.”

“My favorite thing to give! Ask away.”

“How many times can I apologize before she gets tired of hearing it? Does it even help?”

“Oh no, a fight?”

“I’m not sure I would call it that, but…”

“And a girlfriend. You’ve never mentioned having a girlfriend in any of your letters. Is this new?”

Are you still new? Maybe this would still feel new to most people. “Uhm…eight months.” Maybe Eun-ji will give him more insight. Despite never marrying, both of his aunts have had plenty of experience with relationships, and they never shied away from talking to him about it. They didn’t shelter him—Seungmin sheltered himself, until he didn’t. “Sort of, but it doesn’t feel new.”

“Do you know what made her so upset, was it something you said, or did?”

“It was something I did, but there may be some other things out of my control adding to it.”

“You don’t have to explain what you may have done, but give her some space, at least for tonight. Oh, do you two live together?”

“We do. And we got married last month.”

“Married! Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Married? Who?”

Seungmin hears another voice in the background getting closer.

“Who are you talking to at this hour?”

“It’s Minnie, Woo…say hi.”

“Seungmin, you got married and didn’t tell us?"

He’s feeling awful all over again. The distance he put between him and his remaining family was for their own safety, of course, and what little sanity he could hold onto. Mentioning you and the babies didn’t cross his mind, because you and the babies fill his mind completely. “I did, I’m sorry I didn’t call, or write.”

"We have missed your letters. You’re such a lovely and thoughtful writer."

“I will write, and I’ll visit.”

Eun-ji returns to the phone, “give her space, but stay close. Make sure she knows you’re there for her if she needs you, but no hovering.”

“Thank you, both of you. I should get back to the apartment.”

“Jal jayo, puppy.”

***

Just as he suspects, the apartment is silent. The table is cleared, the dishes are clean, and the only light is the one he put near the still flourishing moonflowers. A sick, empty feeling starts to rise in him—you didn’t wait up. Was he gone too long? The drive to the hotel was quick, and he didn’t linger; the drive back was even faster, and the conversation in the car only lasted…he checks his phone…six minutes.

The bedroom is dark and silent, too, but he can make out the lines of your body curled up beneath the thin blanket. Both cots are next to each other, pulled close. You fed them, cleaned up, and went right to bed.

Instead of stripping and climbing in with you like he so desperately wants, he grabs an extra blanket and decides the couch might be better tonight. But first he kisses each boy on the forehead. It’s necessary, but it’s also a chance to peek at your sleeping face. “Jal ja.”

***

The bedroom door is cracked, and he plans on listening for any hint of a cry all night. He’ll take his aunts advice and Seungmin will give you space, but if you both happen to each have a baby to sooth in the same room, well…he’s going to take that opportunity.

Puppy?

Seungmin leans back and takes a long drink of the beer he knows he shouldn’t be drinking. He’s stressed, and he’s tired. Of course he’s hearing things.

What’s bothering you, sweetheart?

The voice is there, but his meds make him question whether it’s there and real, or there and not real. She wasn’t there when he called for her before…so why now?

You’re hurting, I can feel it. I can’t stand to see you so sad.

“I’m going to be sad for a while, I’m sorry.”

Everything will be okay soon

“How do you know that? You can’t. I don’t know that.”

Silence.

"Why are you back now? Where were you before?" He tries to whisper. “That’s it…you’re gone? Umma?” But it comes out in choked stutter, and louder than he expects. Seungmin doesn’t want you to hear him talking to himself. “Umma?”

She’s gone.

The couch is cold and uncomfortable, but his pillow and blanket still smell like you. Daengmo does, too, because he almost always ends up clutched to your chest in the morning. It makes him wonder if there’s a small comfort of yours that was left behind—something soft that you clung to every night when you needed to forget the day. He feels a pang of guilt knowing you might wake up at some point and reach for him. He doesn’t have much time to dwell on it, because he made himself tea and his brain is already starting to get fuzzy, and too tired to care about how much he doesn’t want to sleep here. The last thought that runs through him is a small hope for good dreams. Seungmin wants to dream, and he wants to dream about you.

*

he’s running. he hasn’t run like this since he was a kid running the bases. no…not since the incident with the bartender. the burn in his chest is unbearable and if he doesn’t stop to catch his breath, he’s going to collapse from the pain. a tiny bark in the distance is the only sound, and it’s not like he imagines his big black dog sounding. this is different. is this what daengmo sounds like? daengmo doesn’t bark, he thinks, daengmo is a telepath. and he can see his breath. why? it’s july…

“seungmo…”

he knows who that is. heecheol says it again in a teasy, sing-songy voice.

“mo, look at me…turn around”

“where are we, cheoli?”

“you don’t recognize this place?”

he doesn’t, and as he turns, what looks back at him is nothing…nobody. hecheol is not where his voice is.

“where did you go?”

“this is where we felt it for the first time" heecheol is laughing as he says it, as if he’s proud.

“yeah, I think I remember” how many memories of his are still shoved where he can't reach them? “where is that barking coming from?”

heecheol shrugs, “barking? you must be hearings things.

His eyes pop open to the dark living room. He hates it. Waking in the pitch dark alone can send him spiraling if he lets it, but this time he takes his deep breaths until his heartbeat begins to slow. Daengmo is clutched tight in the bend of his elbow, crushed under the weight of whatever he was dreaming about. Some of it sticks in his mind. “What a stupid fucking dream,” he sighs and fluffs his dog back to life. “Do you bark?”

It takes no time at all for him to drift back to sleep.

this time he’s home. not in uljin, but right here, in this apartment. it looks different, like maybe you finally redecorated (because you hate the couch, and the chopped up rug—you don’t like the minimalist style he went for and never changed)

“tokki?”

no answer. you have to be here, though. he heads for the bedroom, and it feels like he’ll never get to the door. every few steps, he resets, and he’s right back where he started.

“tokki!”

finally, he twists the doorknob. the bedroom is empty. the bed is neatly made, but a few of your drawers are partially open. no cots, no mess of nighttime feeding things on your bedside table. the only thing he sees is his silver medallion where your phone usually sits. he pulls open the drawer and finds it empty. the chest where you put all of your winter things is empty, too.

“what’s happening? where are you?” he says it to himself in a shaky voice. you wouldn’t leave and take his children without a word. would you?

This time, he can’t slow down his racing heart. Seungmin can barely catch his breath when he sits up, and as he does, Daengmo slips to the floor with a soft thud. A moment later he’s up on his trembling legs, headed for the bedroom. It was just a dream, you’ll be sound asleep when he opens the door, all three of you. You’re awake, and the sound of you humming to them makes it to his ears. Feeding them, talking to them, humming the same tune his music box used to play. The courage to open the door and go in is not in him, despite how relieved he feels after the dream. You didn’t pack up and leave him in the night—his brain did that, but Seungmin is just as afraid of losing you now as he was in December.

“Are you at least trying to keep the nightmares away?” Daengmo stares quietly until his soft neck gives out and his head falls to one side. “Can you try harder, please?” Seungmin’s eyes close, but open again immediately. “I didn’t mean that, I know you’re doing your best.”

The third attempt is dark and cold and wet.

he hasn’t dreamt about the shed in months, but he knew it would return eventually. the soil beneath his fingers is as real as it has ever been, and maybe it’s because he’s been away for so long—seungmin has been too comfortable and safe with you. the other hand clenches around something soft and damp. daengmo is clutched in his left hand, limp and dirty, two sad black eyes staring right at him.

"why are you here…you’re not supposed to be here"

the shk sound of the shovel hitting dirt makes his stomach turn. he’s next. as long as he’s finished off before being put in that hole.

"no…no, I don’t wanna die anymore” tears sting his eyes and roll down his cheeks “please don’t kill me”

he can’t move. the squeeze of his fingers and eyes, that’s it. he’s stuck, and every bit of energy he has left turns his head toward the sound

"tokki? help me, I can’t move." it’s only in his head. the only sound that leaves his mouth is a sigh

No, not again, he thinks, because he can’t move. There’s the smallest sensation of his finger twitching against the couch, but that might be his imagination. It definitely is. He thinks about moving his arm, but his brain can’t find where to send the signal, so he relaxes. Seungmin almost lets his eyes close, but the floor creaks. It’s not real. The sleep paralysis sounds are never real, and he knows that. It’s taken him years to train his mind to remember that.

what’s wrong…puppy?

Is that you? It sounds like you. No, it’s not real. But it’s never addressed him before.

I watched you yesterday. she saw me. she didn’t tell you, did she?

What did you see? Seungmin’s eyes are wide open and he sees nothing. Where is it? He can hear it, and now he can smell it—the smell of damp, rotten earth and a freshly lit cigarette burns his nose and throat. It’s not real.

I am very real

Something cold touches his bare shoulder and slowly moves toward his neck.

she hates you, do you feel it coming from her? how silly to think someone could ever love you

It’s right. Seungmin can feel it right now. The love you felt for him is slowly leaving you. Or maybe it was never truly there, because how could it be?

how silly to think you could love someone unconditionally, and that they could love you in return

Even if she hates me, I still love her. Seungmin thinks about you in there with his children, holding them close and singing, and he feels like he could cry. Unconditionally. He does. A tear slides across the bridge of his nose, and through blurry eyes, its bone white face comes into view.

The force of his body and mind waking simultaneously almost sends him to the floor, along with everything else. The blanket, Daengmo, his phone. The sun is starting to glow faintly in the window, and he hoped by morning he would feel better, but that’s not the case. Seungmin feels worse; empty, hopeless, stupid, broken, unlovable. He remembers everything It told him.

He stumbles into the bathroom and wonders if he should take his aunts advice and continue to give you space, because all he feels he can do is kneel in front of and beg for forgiveness again.

The reflection looking back at him, is that really what you love? Why? Seungmin runs his fingers through his hair and pulls. All the worst parts of him are showing, he can’t hide them and he never could, and you’re finally coming to your senses.

He drops to his knees and swings the cabinet door open, rifles through boxes of hair dye, extra toiletries and forgotten things thrown under here and out of the way. Finally, he finds what he’s looking for in the little black bag, and when he rips it out and plugs it in, he isn’t even sure it’s going to work. But it does, and the buzz of the clippers is louder than he expected. One more look at himself, and then he pulls at his bangs again, up and out of his face, and the clippers have little trouble going through. Again and again, over and over…erratically at first, but as he calms, the strokes become slow and careful. And he doesn’t know it, but the buzz wakes you from your deep sleep.

Seungmin doesn’t hear as you carefully make your way toward the sound, and if he would have closed the door, you might not have heard him at all.

The door creaks as you push it open, but he still hears nothing.

“Seungmin, what are you doing?”

He jumps and drops the clippers into the sink, sending the guard flying onto the floor, and finally quieting them.

“Seungmin…”

Why are you looking at him like that? Confused, disgusted, mad that he woke you… “I’m sorry.” The feeling rushing through him is familiar. It’s the itch, the one that makes him want to claw at his skin until there’s nothing left. The itch that It put into his brain, and in every nerve in his body. Seungmin looks at himself in the mirror, only for a moment, before bracing himself on the sink and sending his face straight into it.

The sound is unbelievable, and the crunch of glass is even worse the second time. All you see is red. It pours from the center of his forehead and onto every part of his pale face…it drips as he stumbles backward, and when he leans forward to keep from falling, you unstick yourself from your spot and put your arms around his neck. “Seungmin, look at me.” You reach for the hand towel and drape it over your shoulder, and he naturally falls into your embrace. Three small shards of glass stick to his wound, and he stares, bewildered as they’re carefully pulled away. “Why?”

He lets out of body shaking sob when your hands slide over his back. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

You sush him, run your fingers up his neck and into his much shorter hair. He feels as cold as the bathroom floor, and sitting here in nothing but shorts is not helping. “Why did you do that?”

Seungmin only groans and pushes his forehead against your shoulder. “I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't." It's a lie, but whatever gives him a small amount of comfort right now. "I'm gonna run you a bath, okay?"

There is no energy in him to tell you no. The throb in his head might be the worst physical pain he’s ever been in, but it’s somewhat soothed by the sight of you. Seungmin presses the towel against his wound and one sleepy eye watches as you kneel and turn the water on. Nothing would be better than crawling closer to touch the bare skin of your thighs, or the shoulder peeking out from the bed shirt you’ve worn down to almost nothing—the same shirt he gave you the night you came back with him. He won’t, though. Seungmin will keep his hands to himself until you invite him back in.

"Come over here."

His steps are still shaky and cautious, but your hand reaching back gives him more courage. You touch his leg, and goosebumps move all the way up to his neck…then your hands are on his hips, pulling gently at the waistband, sliding them down his thighs. Such a stupid moment to feel a jolt of pleasure in his dick. Not now. A drop of blood escapes and lands on your arm, and then another until you stand to face him.

“In.”

He listens and carefully steps into the water, and he’s relieved when you hold him steady on the way down. It’s not a good time to trust his coordination, considering the lightheadedness he’s keeping from you. But there’s an awful lot of blood on the sink, the floor, him…and now it’s in the water, bursting and spreading like rainclouds. He watches, transfixed, and he moves the towel in an attempt to make more. There’s a warm gush between his eyes, and then you’re back, pressing a clean white towel against it.

“Tilt your head back a little.”

“Are the boys okay?”

“They’re good…they’re asleep. I’m gonna clean this up and try to get a better look. It might sting.” The brand new first-aid kit came in handy. Ever since the garden shear incident, you decided to prepare in case something similar happened again. This wound doesn’t seem as deep, but there has to be pieces of glass still stuck in the two criss-cross gashes—one is at least two inches long, and the other isn’t much smaller. They’re jagged, very unlike the cut on his arm, and you know it needs stitched by a steady hand. “Close your eyes.”

The sting of the antiseptic brings a new pain. He lets himself cry out in release as the warmth of blood mixes with it, and a soft piece of gauze soaks it up. He thinks back to the shed, and the pounding, bleeding wound he woke up with on the back of his head. There must be a scar there, but he never looked for it. He might be able to see one now.

“I don’t see anymore glass. Nothing big enough to see, at least.”

“Feels like…” yours eyes meet, and he stops. He has no business complaining about the pain he caused himself. There may not be anymore glass, but it feels like there is. “Thank you.”

“That’s why I’m here.” Seungmin’s eyes close as you pour warm water over him, filling the tub with more blood, more clumps of his buzzed hair. “I’ll even this out in the morning.”

He wants to tell you cleaning up and taking care of his stupid, reckless behavior is not why you’re here, regardless of how you meant it. But he can’t get any words to come out. You could have left him feeling embarrassed and in pain on the floor…it would have been so easy just to go back to bed. But you’re here, another clean washcloth in hand, wiping away the blood on his lips and chin and down his neck. “Thank you,” he repeats, because he doesn’t think you want to hear another I’m sorry. “I love you.” It’s barely a whisper, and he knows you hear him, but you don’t say anything in return. He’s not very easy to love right now. “The first time we went to Uljin, I said...” Why is he even remembering this? “You asked about who took me in after umma died, and if they were good to me.”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“I was gonna say…I wasn’t easy to love. I don’t think I was a bad kid, I was just,“ Now you aren’t even looking at him, “I was sad all the time, always in a bad mood. I cried a lot, didn’t talk or leave my room for days at a time.”

“That didn’t make you hard to love, you were just hiding from it.”

He knows his aunts would agree, and he knows you’re probably right, but that’s not the case tonight. “I don’t wanna be hard for you to love.”

***

Morning comes while you finish cleaning and bandaging him, which you’re getting very good at, and he almost heads for the couch. Seungmin seems surprised when you stop him and take his hand in yours. He’s relieved, because all he can see by the couch is that white face staring down at him, the promise of more nightmares. None of that will mix well with the pain in his head.

“Go, I’ll get your things.”

The bedroom feels safe despite what his nightmare told him—I watched you sleep, and the sounds of the babies waking up distract him from everything going through his mind. It doesn’t matter right now. If the monster is here and watching him, there’s nothing he can do the fight back against it…is there? He never could before. Finding someone to kill…”it’s only been,” he picks up Haesung and holds him tight against his chest… “too long I guess. Not enough.” Killing has always been his only defense, and he hasn’t done it in weeks.

“Not enough what?” You return with Daengmo and a handful of painkillers.

The last attempt was a failure, at least so far, but the noises have yet to return. “Nothing, just…thinking. Maybe I’m overdue.”

“Overdue to…kill?”

Seungmin nods and switches babies. And as preoccupied as he is with them, he notices an unusual hesitancy in your reply. “No noise or voices, but it still feels close.”

“What feels close?”

“It does, the voice. Voices. But, something else, too.”

“Oh, right.”

“We don’t have to talk about it. I’m, uh…“ anything but sorry, stop saying that word. “I’m just tired.”

You crawl across the bed and adjust his pillows, add an extra one so his head stays elevated, but he doesn’t get in right away. Seungmin watches you return to your own spot first. “We should.”

“Talk?”

He’s relieved when you nod, and now it’s easier sliding in next to you, but his spot feels cold in more ways than one. You want to talk, though, and that’s good.

“Something is close.”

This isn’t how he expected things to start, but he’ll take it. The quiet of your voice sends a shiver over him, but it’s replaced by a more pleasant one when you run your palm over the mess he made of his hair. He felt like he was doing an okay job, but he quickly realized the state he was in did not allow for a steady hand. “What do you mean?” The monster’s words come back to him again. She saw me, she didn’t tell you.

“Yesterday, I thought I saw something at the foot of the bed while you were asleep. I heard something, thought you were awake, and I came in to check on you. But I think I was just seeing things because it was gone when I turned on the light.”

“What exactly did you see?”

“A shadow, a black figure…like a person covered in a cloak, I guess. Tall, hunched over. It felt weird.”

“Did you smell it.”

“Yeah.”

Seungmin can only assume it was the rot of the forest, and the decaying stench of the thing that haunts him. He doesn’t need to ask. That same sickening scent from his dream is still stuck in his nose.

“Did we bring it home with us, Min?”

***

Seungmin?

You already know you’re dreaming, but this is the most lucid you’ve been since you were pregnant.

Seungmin, you’re holding too tight

The grip on your waist is pushing the air from your lungs. A pinch doesn’t faze him, and neither does a squeeze of his forearm. You can feel the taut muscle move beneath his skin as he holds even tighter.

Minnie please

But you’re stuck in some half paralysis. Just like a dream, you’re moving through air twice as thick as it should be, and you feel like you’re drowning.

Seung—

Your eyes open, and the room is unbearably bright. The only thing squeezed around you is the sheet you tangled yourself into, but you are a little breathless from your dream. “Min? Are you…” He’s not here. It’s late, though, and you start to panic at the thought of sleeping through an alarm. But even if you did, sleeping through two crying babies would not be possible.

Both cots are back on your side, so Seungmin took the time to move them both close to you. And both are sleeping peacefully.

The kitchen and dining room are empty. The bathroom is empty, but you know he was in here, fixing his hair most likely, changing his bandage—the first-aid kit is still sitting on the sink.

“Where did you go, Seungmin?” A few more steps back toward the kitchen bring you some sort of answer—the folded note on the coffee bar would have gone unnoticed if you weren’t hoping to find something. Scribbled on the front is a cute attempt at a bunny, and on the inside is a single, messy line of Hangul..

이것도 고칠게요

TAGS: @kkamismom12/ @r0tt1n/ @heluvschibi / @feckinbecky / @missystay / @seungluvr / @babrieeee / @curiouscocoabean / @feelikecinderella / @carpioassists / @soulsbbg / @san-axa0 / @vixensss / @keiizzx / @xyliskz / @reignessance / @velvetmoonlght / @ghostedgameplays / @pochaccochacco / @lashaemorow / @eastjonowhere / @fackeraccount / @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna / @maddycline / @smilefordongil / @lolniall / @caughtinthemoment163

[yunholic-jongholic]

Dreambound Seduction [Part 3] | OT8 Ateez x Succubus!Reader

SUMMARY | You were sent to Earth with a mission—to observe and ensnare eight men, all untouched and inexperienced. Your task was to infiltrate their dreams, seduce them, and make them yours. Though this was your first time carrying out such a mission, failure wasn’t an option. You had to ensure they craved you, surrendering themselves unknowingly, so you could feed off their energy and sustain your own existence.

PAIRINGS | OT8 Virgin!Ateez x Fem!Reader

RATING | Mature, 18+, NSFW, MDNI!!!

CONTENT WARNINGS | NSFW, Smut, Explicit Content, Religion-Mentioning, Hell Setting, Sex-Dreaming, Somnophilia, Size kink, Breeding kink, Rough Sex, Marking, Cursing, Creampie, Dom!Yunho, Multiple Orgasms, Cowgirl Position, Dirty Talking, Multiple Rounds, (Might be missing some.)

WORD COUNT | 3.3k

AUTHORS NOTE | Third Chapter! YUNHO FOCUSED!!! I hope yall enjoy! I will be continuing this series before going to the next series. :3 (Also these chapters are short due to being a one shot with really no plot in them. just pure smut.)

TAG LIST | @mingisleftnipple @atinyzen117 @nkryuki

•

Yunho was your next target, and from the very beginning, you realized he wouldn’t be as easy as the others. Unlike Hongjoong and Seonghwa, Yunho was distant—his mind guarded with layers you hadn’t expected. Every attempt to slip into his subconscious, to seed dreams twisted with desire and illusion, was met with resistance.

Something—unseen and powerful—was blocking you.

It was infuriating.

You tried everything: charm, temptation, even your most potent dreamweaving techniques. But nothing could penetrate the mental defenses he seemed to have built around himself. His thoughts were steady, his willpower firm. He didn’t give in to subtle glances or fleeting touches. And worse, it felt like some force deep within him knew exactly what you were.

For the first time in your mission, you had to step back.

So, you waited. You observed. You let time soften the edges.

And gradually, it worked. A week passed, and you began to notice the changes—the slight, almost imperceptible moments when his eyes lingered too long, when he hesitated just a second longer in your presence, when his path always seemed to cross yours.

He wasn’t yours yet. Not fully.

But the cracks had begun to form.

And now, it was only a matter of time before you slipped through them.

You decided it was time for a different strategy. The usual charm and dreamwork weren’t enough with Yunho—he required patience, something slower and more calculated. You hated that it was taking this long, but you knew pushing too hard would only drive him further away.

And truthfully… you were growing weaker.

Your energy had drained more than you anticipated, and the hunger gnawed at you relentlessly. But instead of letting it break you, you chose to use it. Vulnerability—real or not—had power. If Yunho wouldn’t give in to seduction, maybe he’d fall for sincerity.

You made yourself more approachable, softened your edges. You let yourself appear tired, worn down, a little off balance. You studied him closely, day after day, observing his routines, the way he moved, how he reacted to others—and to you.

For the past week, you tried to get close to him. Little conversations, quiet run-ins, small moments where he couldn’t help but notice you.

And finally, one afternoon, he caved.

“Hey,” he said, voice low but gentle. “You… wanna grab a coffee or something?”

You looked up at him, feigning surprise with a soft smile.

Perfect. The door had opened—just a crack.

Now all you had to do was step through.

You walked side by side with Yunho to the small coffee shop tucked away on a quiet corner of the street. The conversation was casual, light, and surprisingly comfortable—at least for him. For you, every word, every smile, was a calculated step toward unraveling the defenses he’d built so carefully.

He offered to pay, and you let him. Two coffees later, you both sat down by the window, the late afternoon sun spilling in like a spotlight on the moment.

You barely touched your drink, letting it sit untouched in front of you. Yunho noticed, of course—he was observant like that.

“You don’t like it?” he asked gently, not offended, just genuinely curious.

You shook your head with a soft, apologetic smile. “It’s not that. I’m just… not hungry for anything right now.”

He nodded slowly, accepting your answer, though you caught the faint flicker of concern in his eyes.

If only he knew the truth.

You weren’t craving coffee. You weren’t craving food.

You were craving him.

Every beat of his heart, every flicker of emotion across his face, every drop of energy pulsing through his veins—it called to you, and you were doing everything in your power to keep the hunger from showing.

But soon…

He would feed you exactly what you needed.

There was something off.

You could feel it like static in the air—every time you tried to draw Yunho in with the smallest touch of seduction, something pushed back. Something subtle but firm.

It was maddening.

No matter how soft your voice, how charming your smile, how close you leaned in—none of it affected him the way it should have. He was polite, kind, even a little bashful at times, but not once did he falter. Not once did he fall.

The realization hit you like a cold breeze.

You tilted your head slightly, your voice casual, controlled. “Are you religious in any way? Just curious.”

Yunho gave a soft, sheepish smile, nodding. “Yeah… I’m Catholic. Been raised that way my whole life.”

And there it was.

The invisible wall. The shield you hadn’t been able to see until now. You felt your stomach twist—not with fear, but with raw irritation.

You forced a smile, doing your best to make it seem genuine. “Oh… me too!”

You wanted to laugh at yourself—or slap him. Either would’ve felt great.

Instead, you took a sip of the coffee you didn’t want, letting it mask the bitter taste of frustration.

So that’s what you were dealing with.

Faith.

This would be trickier than you thought. But not impossible. Not for you.

You just had to find the right way to unhook him from it… one thread at a time.

Yunho's heart gave a subtle flutter—you could see it in the way his eyes softened when you smiled, in the small, almost imperceptible shift in his posture.

That was something.

You stood slowly, brushing your fingers against the edge of the table as you looked at him with that perfect mix of sweetness and mystery. “Can we go back to your place?” you asked, keeping your tone light, almost playful, but letting your gaze linger on his just long enough to stir something deeper.

For a brief second, you saw it click.

A flicker of hesitation. A pause.

That conflicted feeling deep in him—the push and pull between curiosity and caution. He wasn’t immune. Not completely.

You kept the smile on your face, soft and warm, even though internally you were ready to tear down whatever wall still stood between you and the hunger gnawing inside.

This was your opening.

And you weren’t going to waste it.

Yunho’s apartment was modest but cozy, filled with small personal touches—books, photos, a few neatly organized game consoles stacked beside the TV. It was painfully normal.

You sat on the recliner, pretending to take interest in the space while subtly scanning for any signs of how to loosen his grip on himself… and on that damn faith.

He returned from the kitchen with a glass of water and settled on the sofa across from you. There was a hint of nervous energy in him—like he wasn’t sure what to do now that you were actually here.

Then he asked, “Do you like playing video games?”

It caught you slightly off guard. The question was harmless enough, but you blinked for a moment, wondering what exactly “video games” were again. You were still getting used to Earth’s endless, pointless entertainment.

“Wh… Yes,” you said with a slight pause, masking your hesitation with a quick smile.

You had no idea what you’d just agreed to, but if it made him more comfortable—if it helped him drop his guard—you’d play along.

You tucked your legs under you, leaning forward just a little to close the space. “Why? Are you going to show me how good you are?” you asked with a teasing lilt.

His ears turned pink, and he laughed softly, rubbing the back of his neck.

You could feel it—his walls weren’t down, but they were softening.

Now you just needed to keep chipping away…

“I can if you want!” Yunho grinned, clearly excited, before hurrying over to grab a controller.

You watched as he powered on the TV, the screen lighting up with vibrant colors and unfamiliar sounds. Moments later, he was settled back on the couch, controller in hand, fully immersed in the game.

You sat quietly at first, observing the strange world unfolding on the screen. You had absolutely no idea what was happening—just flashing lights, fast movements, and occasional shouting from Yunho when something dramatic occurred.

Still, you played along.

“Wow! That was… cool!” you fake-cheered as he executed some combo move or defeated whatever pixelated monster was threatening him.

Every time he pulled something off, he would glance at you—waiting, hopeful, clearly fishing for approval. It was almost endearing, in a very painfully human sort of way.

He wanted to impress you.

You could see it in the way his posture shifted with each passing minute, how he leaned a little closer without even realizing it. He was proud of himself, and more importantly, he wanted you to be proud of him too.

You smiled sweetly, nodding every time he looked your way, even if you didn’t quite understand what he’d just done.

And as small and silly as it all seemed… it was working.

He was trying. For you.

And that meant his guard was finally starting to slip.

Night had quietly settled in, the sky outside turning a deep indigo, and the once-lively room now felt wrapped in a soft, quiet calm. You glanced toward the window, pretending to check the time on your phone, then let out a perfectly timed sigh.

“Man… I need a drive back, but my place is like an hour and a half away,” you said, adding a gentle pout for effect. “Do you have a room I could maybe stay in? If you don’t mind, of course.”

You made sure your voice held just the right blend of sweetness and innocence—enough to disarm, not enough to alarm.

Yunho paused, processing, and then nodded without hesitation. “Yeah. I have a guest bedroom. You can stay the night, and I’ll take you back in the morning,” he said with a soft smile.

You beamed—grateful on the outside, but inwardly, pleased.

“Thank you, really,” you said, placing a hand on his arm briefly, letting the warmth of your touch linger just a little longer than necessary.

He led you down a short hallway, stopping in front of a tidy guest room. “Here you go,” he said, stepping aside so you could enter.

You looked around, then turned back to him with a small smile. “It’s perfect.”

He gave a nod and rubbed the back of his neck, clearly unsure what else to say. “Alright… goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Yunho,” you hummed, your tone soft, almost melodic.

As the door shut behind him, your smile slowly curled into a smirk.

Now that you were inside his home, alone in his space… the real work could begin.

You sat quietly in the dim guest room, staring at the door with a mix of anticipation and tension. The only thought echoing in your mind was a single, silent hope: please don’t pray tonight.

You knew if he did… it could make everything harder. Maybe even impossible.

Time crawled by until you finally sensed it—his energy softening, his breathing steady. Asleep.

The hunger inside you was gnawing now, clawing at your insides. You couldn’t wait any longer.

With a whisper of darkness, your form melted into shadow, slipping silently beneath the door and gliding down the hall like smoke. You reformed inside his room, feet barely touching the floor as your eyes landed on him.

Yunho was asleep, curled beneath a single blanket on a plain mattress. No pillows. No photos. No clutter. Just him in a near-bare space.

Seriously… who sleeps like this? you thought, raising an eyebrow.

Still, despite the simplicity, there was something peaceful about him. His chest rose and fell in perfect rhythm, his face relaxed in sleep.

You inched closer, the pull of your craving stronger now, your body nearly humming with need.

You hovered silently at his bedside, shadows gently flickering around your form as you reached out and placed your hand on his forehead. Your touch was soft—gentle, almost loving—but the magic behind it surged like a pulse of heat, slipping into Yunho’s mind and diving deep into the world of his dreams.

You shaped them carefully, weaving the scene with precision: the heat, the tension, the overwhelming presence of you—and only you. There was no escape in this world, no resistance. Just desire, slowly intensifying.

Yunho’s breathing grew ragged, his chest rising and falling more quickly beneath the thin blanket. His fingers clenched the sheets, legs shifting restlessly. You watched with satisfaction as the dream began to take hold of him.

It was working.

Even in sleep, you could feel him trying to hold on to control—but it was slipping, crumbling with each passing second as your influence seeped deeper.

You leaned in closer, your lips near his ear, your voice a sultry whisper only his subconscious could hear.

"Don’t fight it, Yunho… you want this."

And judging by the way his body arched slightly, the way he murmured your name in a broken breath…

He already did.

You finally softly lifted yourself onto his lap and pulled your top off. You finally removed your hand and his eyes flickered open immediately. He noticed you on top of him, straddling his lap and you purred.

Even though you felt weaker you were ready to take the power back.

"Morning sleepyhead... I am... UFF!" You immediately get pinned down and he growls against your ear gripping your waist as he pins you against the mattress harshly.

Oh fuck.

He was much stronger than you and you didn't really expect this to happen.

His eyes were dark full of intense lust and he was completely aroused. He wrapped his hand around your neck gripping it tightly pulling you back up and slid you over his lap. You fell flat on your stomach feeling his bulge poke you in the stomach.

"Trying to fuck me when I am asleep?" He growled against the top of your head.

"Maybe..." You huffed out kind of enjoying this.

"Well now since you made me this way, you're going to fix this mess." He smirks. You were so ready. It was finally happening.

He took his shirt off and placed you next to him on the bed as he took his boxers off. You watched his cock spring out and you mouth watered at the sight.

You were so ready.

He was much larger than you expected. You were already feeling drenched down between your thighs.

Yunho helped you pulling your shorts and panties off, noticing your pussy was glistening wet.

"Ah, such a naughty girl." He laughed softly throwing you straight down on the bed again. You let him take the lead, but it maybe wasn't the best idea...

Yunho immediately aligned his cock towards your entrance before shoving himself deeply in. You let out a breathy moan throwing your head back and felt a wave of pleasure starting. He groaned gripping your waist firmly almost hurting you.

He didn't waste time before slamming hard and deep into you. You felt almost like you were being split in half. You felt tears form in your eyes as you looked down watching your pussy being abused.

"What's the matter? Does it hurt?" He growls before hungrily making out with you. You moaned into the kiss feeling your power come back to you.

"Hey. I asked you a question." He growled gripping you by the neck making you face him.

"No... It feels amazing..." You moaned digging your claws into his back. He only smirked at your response. He thrusted hard and deep into you.

"You are so large..." You moaned throwing your head to the side. Yunho grabbed you and flipped you over telling you to go on your knees. You obeyed him and he slammed back in without a warning or giving you time to readjust.

Your lips parted and eyes rolled back feeling him hit a certain spot causing you to melt on him. He wrapped his hand around you looking down at your face.

"Fuck." He cursed, his breathing got heavy and hot. He closed his eyes panting hard as his thrusts got a bit sloppier.

"You are so fucking beautiful..." He leaned down kissing your lips. It was completely sloppy, but you were not complaining.

Yunho growled as his lips traveled down your neck and he started biting and kissing your neck.

"I just want to breed you and fill your pretty little pussy up." He growls. You whimpered begging him to do so.

"Do it then... Fill me up as much as you can Yunho..." You placed your hands on his arms which were gripping you.

Yunho lifted you up by your thighs and thrusted upward into you panting harder. You felt his cock throbbing inside you like he was about to explode.

You closed your eyes feeling the intense pleasure feeling as you both hit a hard orgasm together. You felt his cock twitch as he released a thick load inside you causing you to shiver in such a pleasuring feeling. You felt all warm and good inside as you finally felt strong enough.

"That was amazing..." You huffed out. But he lifted you back up.

"Huh?" You were a bit confused.

"I am not done with you." He growled smirking against your ear as he started thrusting back up hard into you. You let out a moan feeling him bury his cock deep inside you again before thrusting in and out.

The last two men got exhausted, but he was going for another round? What the fuck?!

Yunho slammed upward into you causing you to scream moan a bit.

"Yunho! Oh!" You cried out and he wrapped his hands around your waist pulling you onto his lap to ride him.

"Aww is my pretty girl sensitive?" He smirks. He huffs out and now you both were sweaty and out of breath going into a round two.

"Yes... I am but I guess we can continue." You whimpered trying to control yourself.

"Good girl." He smirks as he lifted your waist up helping you ride him. You did realize he was a bit tired, but his energy was too much. He didn't stop and didn't want to stop.

Your eyes rolled back again moaning in pure pleasure as you started to roll your hips as well.

Yunho thrusted upwards, hands wrapped around your waist firmly again and his lips attached to your neck kissing you as much as he could.

It felt messy and you were kind of feeling icky now. You immediately hurried this up and touched his forehead giving him the energy to climax again.

You felt him fill you up again and this time you felt full inside. He pulled out watching the cum ooze out of you. He felt exhausted and immediately fell flat back onto the bed.

You hummed softly, satisfaction curling in your chest as you felt the steady surge of energy pouring into you. Yunho’s dreamstate was warm, intense charged with that irresistible vulnerability you craved. His body writhed faintly beneath the blanket, lost in the fantasy you created, completely unaware that he was feeding you with every breath, every filthy desire.

Power flooded your veins again, your strength returning, your essence reigniting.

You smirked, leaning down slowly, brushing a soft kiss to his forehead—mocking sweetness for someone who would never realize what he’d truly given you.

"Thank you for your time, Yunho,” you whispered, your voice velvet-smooth, laced with amusement. “I must go now..."

And with that, your form melted into the shadows once more, slipping from his room unnoticed—leaving no trace behind but the lingering warmth of your presence.

In a blink, you were gone, descending back into the dark embrace of Hell, full, recharged… and already thinking about your next target.

Three down.

Five to go.

•

A/N: Sorry this chapter took so long, and it wasn't even that long... LMFAO. Yeosang next. (Poor Yeosang going to be played like his hyungs. </3)

[deadpool1763492]

A Very Late Road Trip AU Update

Art by @toonzxy

Hello everyone! Yes, it's been quite a while since @toonzxy, @joyfuladorable, and I have posted anything about this AU, but I promise the story is still in the works! To keep you all in the loop, we decided to make a sort of update post for the progress of the story.

Read to the end for a little teaser!

Okay, so, Book 1 is currently at 51k words. I promise I am writing it as quickly as I possibly can, but I had a pretty busy summer and am currently in my senior year of university, so it's safe to say that I don't have too much free time on my hands at the moment. I know we said we'd try to start posting it by July/August, but as of now, I don't think this book will be finished before the end of the year. Once we finish writing it, we still have to go through the entire process of editing the thing, which is a pretty daunting task. At the rate the story is going, Book 1 will probably end up being at least 100k words long.

In other news, toonzy and joyfuladorable are currently in the works of a comic! You all clearly enjoyed the comics released earlier this year, so they've decided to create a comic that will run alongside the fic but will have its own minor changes to the story. It won't be too different, but it'll be just different enough for it to stay entertaining if you want to read them both.

Most of our time has been dedicated to world building, which, admittedly, is taking a lot more time than we thought it would. It's also been a lot of rewriting previous plot points so that the continuity makes sense overall. All three of us REALLY hate plot holes, so there's been quite a bit of compromising on all fronts. All in all, it's been a lot of work for three people who not only have normal adult lives, but also have other projects on our hands that keep grabbing our attention. This has been our top priority though, I promise.

Okay, that's enough of that. You guys wanted some teasers? Here you go:

via @toonzxy

There you go. Two comic panels, the titles for the first four chapters (mostly) and a very random very mature name of a place in Idaho that one of us stumbled upon. Do with that what you will.

Alright, that's all from me! Hopefully, the next update won't be as long of a wait as this one, but I won't make any promises.

Hasta luego true believers

-DP

[krokusplays]

A Rising Dawn - Chapter 5

Mydei x (female) Reader

Fic Rating: Mature (will change for a later chapter)

Chapter Length: 4.1k

Fic Status: Ongoing (5/8)

Tags/Warnings: Fluff, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Falling in Love, Learning to Trust, Sweet, Wholesome, basically no angst, no use of y/n, smut in a later chapter, set before the events of 3.0

Author's Notes: I'm really glad that most figured out what mythological figure Reader is based on. If you didn't: Reader is based on Andromeda. I had the idea for Reader's backstory and given how Mydei's backstory was also inspired by Perseus's story it felt so fitting <3 That aside, this chapter contains a scene I enjoyed writing so much ;; I hope you'll like it <3

Previous Chapter

AO3 Link

Summary: In the Holy City, daily life remained the same for the citizens despite the threat of the Black Tide lurking beyond the city's borders.

But sometimes, a brief encounter can bring about a new dawn for its residents. Chrysos Heirs and regular citizens alike.

Even more so when the Golden Thread has tied your fates together a long time ago.

The next few days and weeks were ridden with more playtime with the kids, more encounters at the store, more meetings to share food - often prepared by him - and more training sessions.

Mydei sparred with you, taught you more moves, and avoided touching you. He didn’t grab your wrists, didn’t hold you, didn’t physically adjust your stance… Though in the heat of battle - be it a sparring match far beneath his actual skill level - an entire lack of physical contact was rendered almost impossible.

It did not bother you.

When you brushed arms or shoulders, you didn’t flinch, when you stepped on his toes you winced because his feet were armored and that hurt but you didn’t retreat. Didn’t panic. Didn’t flee.

Whether these moments simply did not matter to you or if they became a result of you wanting to work on it, he didn’t know.

He did not pry.

It was not his business nor place to do so and yet, he deemed it a personal success for you. You met him in your matches more openly, with more confidence, a tad less hesitation to move - to act.

You were having fun.

And he found himself enjoying your encounters whenever he saw that soft smile on your lips that made your eyes shine and made his chest swell with a sense of warmth.

Maybe that’s why - after training - he was taking you to the small terrace overseeing the residential area of Okhema with Marmoreal Palace visible in the far distance. It was small. Hidden. Obscured by architectural structures that were built after the terrace's construction and demanded navigating through tiny alleys and old, partly crumbled stairs.

Nature has reclaimed this small place with time. Vines wound around the balustrade and up the walls of the buildings attached to the balcony, the shiny white colors of the stone have faded by now.

He liked it here. The peace and quiet. When he truly wanted no one to find and interrupt him.

And he found that your presence… did not disturb that.

Mydei crossed his arms in front of his chest as he watched how you walked to the balustrade and took in the view stretching out in front of you.

You lowered the basket you have brought with you to training to the ground without looking away from the sights, fascinated - awe-struck - with everything you were seeing.

Endearing.

You both basked in the serenity of it all. The subtle breeze, the faint sounds of leaves rustling in the wind, the clear blue sky. It calmed his pounding heart, the adrenaline still rushing through his veins after training…

You leaned on the balustrade, folding your arms on the smooth stone, as he joined you. He came to stand next to you, crossing his arms in front of his chest again and gazing upon the scenery unfolding before you.

His gaze fell onto you. You blended into the scenery like a painting adorning the walls of Marmoreal Palace. A soft smile on your face, brows a gentle curve, your dress swaying in the breeze…

You remained quiet as you observed and watched, your face calm. Relaxed. And for a while he found himself watching you rather than the view before him.

“You know,” you said without looking at him. Though he thought he caught an amused look cross your face for a moment. “This is kinda romantic.”

He suppressed the instinct to let out a “hmph”. Instead he averted his gaze and looked up ahead again, eyes catching a pair of birds flying together towards the horizon.

“There is no word for romance in the Kremnoan language.”

You looked at him then, a contemplative look in your eyes, though that soft smile didn’t fade away.

“Then, what would you call this?”

His eyes widened the slightest bit and his lips parted. You tilted your head as you undoubtedly caught the surprise - confusion - on his face. He looked away. His gaze unfocused.

Romance. A word he knew from the Romance titan but only a concept he was familiar with through tales and words on the streets.

Ptolemy often used to tell stories around the campfire. One of the books he’s brought with him after leaving Kremnos contained fairytales from distant lands. Laughter had filled the rusty air as he had laughed with his friends while Ptolemy read and Peucesta played a gentle tune to accompany him.

Those tales were fun. Amusing. Yet, nothing any of them ever took serious.

Not before he came to Okhema. And even then something he would acknowledge but not dare to think further about. Too afraid to come to realize all he has been missing and all the chances and opportunities that have passed him by on his long, arduous journey from Castrum Kremnos.

His thoughts turned back to Hephaestion. He remembered his laughter, how his scrawny figure shook when they all told jokes and found the tale particularly amusing, but he also recalled the red hue on his cheeks that was born neither from the warmth of the fire nor the honey brew.

Mydei remembered spending rare but cherished moments with him alone. By the side of the camp, when the fighting and traveling of the day has come to an end and when too much of the night still remained for him to ponder - worry - about the future of his people.

Hephaestion has been there. Always. Sought him out and found him when the thoughts became louder, when his determination threatened to waver, stood next to him in silence, basking in the scenery of the wilds. Serene. Peaceful. Happy.

He recalled how nice these moments have been back then. How his breath hitched when Hephaestion laughed, how in awe he has been when Mydei managed to prepare something special while in camp to eat, how one eye has always been on him in battle, even though that scrawny figure tore through enemies unlike any other Kremnoan warrior he’s known. He brought Mydei a sense of comfort he wasn’t familiar with, one he’s never gotten in any other circumstances.

Nothing has ever come close to these sensations. To being fine - comfortable - just basking in the presence of another person.

Only when he has reached Okhema, long after Hephaestion’s death, did he learn about the term romance and came to the realization that whatever it has been between him and Hephaestion was the closest to the concept he’s ever come to it.

It’s something he’s pushed into the furthest corner of his mind.

Mydei looked at you again.

And this? The here and now? Didn’t it feel exactly like those moments he’s shared with Hephaestion all these years ago? Familiar? Comfortable? Enjoying someone else’s company, wanting to preserve their smile…

Maybe it wasn’t the same.

But maybe it didn’t have to be.

Perhaps he was overthinking this.

“I don’t know,” he said finally as you were still waiting for an answer, looking up at him with a soft smile. Waiting. Anticipating.

If the answer was to your dissatisfaction - he couldn’t imagine it was anything but - you didn’t let it show.

Instead, you turned to him and took a step closer, your hand sliding over the stone of the balustrade while doing so. You came to stand in front of him. Close. Too close that you should be comfortable. He could touch you without his elbow leaving his side if he wanted.

Yet, he didn’t move away.

He looked down on you. You didn’t meet his gaze. There was an uncertainty in the way your gaze shifted around. Hesitation. Nervousness. Your eyes never found his but they also averted staying on the exposed parts of his chest.

Despite the confusion, his lips twitched upwards for a short moment. How amusing.

He caught the trembling of your hand as you raised it and his breath hitched in his throat for a moment when your fingers found the red fabric attached to his shoulder armor and held together by the belt around his waist.

You didn’t hold it. More cradled it. Let it slide over your open palm as if feeling the material, mesmerized by the texture. Your fingers moved with a gentleness that caught him off guard.

Yet, it was so expected from you.

And it made him realize if your hand brushed his skin, you would be able to feel the way his heart began to pound just a bit harder in his chest.

Your hands stopped trembling. Still, your movements were slow. Cautious. As if testing the waters. To see his reaction or to figure out your own level of comfort with the gesture, he didn’t know.

He remained unmoving in place and let you figure out whatever you were trying to get from him in that instant.

And he didn’t mind.

You have never deliberately initiated contact with him before. Not even when he pushed you to your limits during a sparring match - when the adrenaline pumped through your veins enough to cloud your mind.

And something about the way you moved your hand and observed the gesture with your own eyes with a softness no one has ever confronted him with, stirred something deep within him.

“I think I would like to know,” you said, your voice quiet and you swallowed. To hide your nervousness. To push back your hesitation. “What you would call this one day.”

And before he could reply - even think of a reply - you took a deep breath and stepped forwards.

Within a moment - no longer than a heartbeat - your arms came up and wrapped around his body.

Mydei froze.

Out of instinct his hands came up. To defend against an attack. To push the threat away. But, you were not the enemy. You meant no harm. So his hands hovered in the air. Awkward. Uncertain.

His mind struggled, fought against the sensations pushing down on him at this strange gesture. Unfamiliar. Confusing.

And Mydei was lost. He didn’t know what to do.

He knew what an embrace was. Yet the only times he ever came close to it was when enemies threw themselves at him in the midst of battle or when his friends threw an arm around his shoulders to celebrate their victory.

Never had another person sought his body - his proximity - for the sake of being close to him.

Never.

This body only knew death and the pain of rebirth, the marks of his curse visible for everyone to see.

And yet, you pushed yourself closer to him - you, who had every reason to avoid such contact - and relaxed against him.

Slowly - a hesitation in his movements that was so unlike him - his arms came around your shoulders. He told himself his inhibition came from the intention of giving you time to stop him, to escape the gesture, but deep down he knew he used it as an excuse to cover his own uncertainty.

He was the crown prince of Castrum Kremnos, a warrior of Okhema after all.

These arms could crush stone, tear through enemies like paper, and you were alright with them being around your body. You wanted them there. Holding you. Cradling you.

He wondered what they could bring you.

Comfort? Did it make you feel at ease? Safe?

He didn’t ask it out loud.

Your body felt warm against his.

A warmth that seeped through his skin and slowly engulfed every part of him until it made him feel lightheaded. Like a breeze that swept away all the nagging thoughts. Doubts. Worries. All irrelevant. Pushed back into the back of his soul that could not reach him in this moment.

This felt nice. Calming. Soothing.

The itch in his veins, the urge and yearning for battle running through his veins, railed in. Quiet.

And Mydei tightened his hold just a bit more. Held you closer, encouraged you to let yourself fall into him the very same way he was - albeit so very slowly.

You did.

There was a trembling in your form when his hold tightened but it faded away quickly. And when it did, he could feel how the tension left your shoulders but whether the quiet sigh he heard came from you or was a trick of the wind, he couldn’t tell.

When you - gently, slowly - pulled back from him, he lowered his hands without hesitation. To give you space. To move at your own pace.

Yet, the cold invading his body when the warmth of your body left his, almost made him chase the contact. Without thinking. Instinctual.

The realization left him puzzled. Bewildered at his own… neediness.

And yet, he didn’t find it in him to fight against it.

He was… comfortable.

You smiled, more to yourself than at him, your gaze turned to the ground as you put a little bit of distance between the two of you. He wondered what that expression was.

Joy? Relief? Pride?

Silence settled upon the both of you again. He did not know what to say and you were thinking - contemplating - and he didn’t ask. Didn’t pry. Yet, your slackened shoulders, the smile on your lips…

He did not think you were uncomfortable. And something within his chest stirred at the realization.

After everything, you initiated that contact - albeit slowly and with hesitation - and you looked like you enjoyed it. Felt comfortable with it.

You opened your mouth as if to say something but nothing came out. Neither did he know what to say now. His mind was racing, occupied by thoughts that have been quietened while you’ve been in his arms.

What did any of this mean?

Where would you go from here?

You took a deep breath. He found it fascinating that your smile never left. How peaceful you looked.

“I think,” you started, “we both have something to think about.” You chuckled with a finger on your chin.

He couldn’t disagree.

“I’ll… see you later,” you said, a soft smile on your lips and yet, you shied away from his gaze. Though the faint red hue on your cheeks let him know more than you probably wanted him to know. He didn’t push it.

This situation was as unusual for the both of you as it was new.

He let you go, watched you as your form left the balcony and vanished down the old, worn down stairs before he turned his eyes toward the sky. He crossed his arms in front of his chest.

What was he supposed to do now?

Never let his fellow Kremnoans know about this probably. The thought was tinged with amusement but it did hold a sense of truth. Such sentiments were not befitting a Kremnoan warrior, much less the successor of Kremnos.

Warmth and comfort. Not something one could find on the battlefield.

And still…

You have become a constant in his life over the past weeks already. One that gave him a sense of normality and peace. Playing with the children, encountering you when he purchased his pomegranates, training you, sharing a meal, you’ve been in his home before…

Instances of a normal life that hasn’t been granted to him before.

A sense of normality and peace that he didn’t mind.

He ignored the somber thought in the back of his mind that - in the face of the Flame-Chase journey - he had no idea how long he could make it last.

But he didn’t find it in him to oppose the idea of enjoying whatever this was between you.

And, did a mere embrace really bring such a big change to the both of you that it required him to rethink his place and fate in this city?

———————

The feel of Mydei’s body against your own lingered long after you have left.

Warm skin, a thumping - quick - heartbeat beneath your ear, strong arms around your shoulders…

You had acted on a whim. A feeling. And your heartbeat had threatened to burst out of your chest as you moved but… the tension, the hesitation - the anxiety - have been worth it because the feeling of safety that had followed was still clouding your mind now.

Maybe you shouldn’t have left so abruptly. And instead enjoyed the moment a while longer, basked in the scenery and that feeling blossoming in your chest.

But… you felt like he needed some time alone.

Perhaps you did as well.

Some time ago he had grabbed your wrist and the result was a flash of panic. And today…

You’ve tried. You’ve really tried to work on it. Allowing him to brush your shoulder during sparring, letting the metal of his gauntlet touch your hand when you handed him something. A fight against your instincts but whenever touch happened… it was fine.

Only with him, however.

At the store, a customer had brushed your hand when you handed them their bag - and you let it happen just to see if maybe… - but it was nothing like when it happened with Mydei. The cold sweat had felt dreadful, the hammering pulse uncomfortable, the instinct to recoil overwhelming…

Why wasn’t it like this with Mydei?

Because you trusted him? Have been through so much trial and error with him that you knew what to expect when being around him?

Or simply because you… liked him?

Your racing heart and lightheaded - pleasant - feeling occupying your mind should be more than an answer.

You’ve thought about… them when you approached Mydei. The way they treated you like less than an animal. But when his arms came around you… It all went away. And you knew that nothing could reach you here.

Not while you were in his arms.

He wouldn’t let it happen. Ever.

Yet, how to go from here?

And how did he think and feel about it? You noticed his surprise - shock - but… was it because he knew your story? Or because of the gesture itself?

You couldn’t imagine that gestures - affection - like this were common for Kremnoans.

He did reciprocate it though.

Regardless…

This hug has been the nicest thing that has happened to you in so long, how could you ignore that and pretend you didn’t want to experience it again?

Yes, perhaps you needed a moment to think as well.

———————

Mydei might imagine it. But ever since that day on the balcony, it seemed to him you didn’t even try to keep from engaging in any type of physical contact with him.

Maybe since that embrace he’s gotten more perceptive and aware of it, but you never pulled back during sparring sessions, willingly risking him brushing against you, your hands brushed - metal against skin - when you handed him a bottle of pomegranate juice or when you took the payment for his fruits…

Never something he particularly paid attention to before but now that he noticed, he couldn’t ignore it either.

Mydei looked after the kids as they left, running and laughing, as lively as before they came here. Nothing truly rivaled the energy of a kid. They have been on their feet, playing and practicing this entire time and a sense of fatigue was nowhere to be seen.

His gaze turned to you as you put back the bowls and small boxes into your basket. The fruits you’ve brought all gone. The kids didn’t leave a single slice. Good. At least they ate healthy. Also good that the effort you constantly went through to prepare it for all of them didn’t go to waste.

When did he start to consider that?

Mydei took the final sip from his bottle of pomegranate juice. Always a delight. Though one day he had to introduce you to the idea of adding milk to it.

He handed you the bottle again, noticed how the tips of his armored fingers met your skin - soft but the metal did not convey any sense of warmth - and saw how your eyes jumped to the contact but you didn’t say anything. And despite the flinch - instinctive and involuntary - you didn’t pull back.

He noticed how you stared at his hand. Contemplating. The gears in your head turning. But whatever you thought about, you didn’t voice it.

As he let go of the bottle and turned around to store away the training weapons the kids have left behind, your voice sounded behind him.

“Wait, Mydei… please.”

He turned around again, looked at you. You hesitated, looked away for a moment, before you took a small step towards him.

“Can you show me your hand?”

He furrowed his brows but curiosity and silent wonder remained in his gaze nonetheless. He obliged and held out his hand, palm pointing upwards. And waited.

You didn’t meet his gaze. Your eyes locked on his hand with a focus that seemed to drown out anything else. How odd.

You swallowed but reached up and took a hold of his hand. You didn’t grab it but cupped it. Cradled it in your hands with a grip so light, he barely noticed any pressure.

He let you prevail. Let you explore and satisfy that curiosity. Or were you trying to figure something out? How focused you were. What were you thinking about? What did this touch give you? This was not a hug. You were exploring his hand as if it was something unfamiliar, something new.

Maybe it was.

One of your hands began to trace his fingers. Your fingers slid along the metal, followed the black material, but when your other hand curled around his fingers to reveal his palm more to you, he noticed how your hand trembled.

And the realization hit him that your aversion to physical contact has been so much stronger or severe when it was about hands.

Your initial reaction at the store happened because the threat of your hands brushing had loomed over you. The panic and instinct to flee came about because his hand grabbed your wrist…

His brows furrowed.

Maybe you were realizing it just as he was in that moment. And perhaps this was what all this was about.

Mydei intended to pull his hand away. No need to put you through this when it was obviously a struggle.

But when he slowly retreated his hand, your fingers clasped around it with a pressure that made it abundantly clear that you didn’t want him to leave. Mydei frowned.

Your hands were trembling. Your movements hesitant. And yet, you raised his hand to your face.

And made him cup your cheek.

Mydei’s mouth opened but words evaded him. What were you doing? And as if his fingers could communicate his surprise, they remained stiff. Hesitant.

“Why?” he dared to ask.

“Because,” you said and closed your eyes but kept his hand in place with your own. “I wanna know that hands are… capable of more.”

His eyes widened at that. Caught off guard. He didn’t know what to say. But he thought back to what you’ve told him.

Hands had dragged you away, hands had treated you like an object meant to be sacrificed, hands had chained you to that rock…

Memories that haunted you to this day. None of them pleasant.

And he… he could relate to that. For when did he ever feel the gentleness and warmth of someone’s hand? His first ever memory that he could recall was fighting. It had ruled his entire life since then. He has fought, crushed enemies - of flesh and stone alike - while people in Okhema did not even offer him their hand in greeting…

Did he know that hands are capable of more than violence?

He looked at you again. How your so much smaller hands held his armored hand against your cheek, your eyes closed, the barest hint of a smile on your lips, the trembling of your hand ceasing as you leaned into it.

No one has ever cradled your head before with the intention of making you feel nice. Safe.

Neither has he ever used his hands to provide such comfort. Such reassurance.

Like that embrace. Just that this was different. It seemed… deeper than that. Though he did not find the words to explain the turmoil in his own soul at the realization.

Unfamiliar. But not unpleasant.

His hand so subtly curled around your cheek.

He did not know what to say, but he could follow your lead and give you that moment that you craved from him.

And all he could think about - as you stood there leaning into the gesture as peaceful and relaxed as you could be - was the wonder how soft and warm your skin must be beneath the metal and fabric.

[cherrykpawp]

Heat // Ch 3.5

Rating: Explicit, Mature (M)

Pairings: Yunho x reader, Mingi x reader, San x reader, Wooyoung x reader, Yeosang x reader, hinted San x Wooyoung, hinted Mingi x Yeosang, hinted San x Mingi, hinted Wooyoung x Yeosang, hinted San x Yeosang

This fic includes/ This chapter includes: hybrids, Afab!reader, reader-centric, fluff, angst, Fashion designer!Seonghwa, Owner!Seonghwa, Calico hybrid!reader, Dobermann hybrid!Yeosang, Maine Coone hybrid!Wooyoung

W.C: 3k

“You know, I had thought Yunho’s house was big already. But this…” You were astonished, to say the least.

Today, you're going to sleep over at Seonghwa’s house, exposing yourself more to Yeosang and Wooyoung. Yunho dropped you off ten minutes ago, he packed your duffle bag with clothes for the weekend last night so that you could feel comfortable and find your things easily. Although he initiated the plan to have this sleepover, he was downcast that your presence wouldn’t be in the house for the next two days. San and Mingi gave you the tightest bear hug you’ve ever had, acting as if they couldn’t just come over. It was better for you to go alone, though.

Seonghwa tucked his hair behind his ear. “It’s nothing. I wanted Yeosang and Wooyoung to have easy access to whatever they wanted to do.” Just like San, Mingi, and you, they had the freedom to go outside since they had phones and tracking. 

Seonghwa showed you to your guest room, it could’ve been considered a mini apartment. The interior had a bathroom and a balcony with sliding glass doors, shielding you from the sun outside with large white curtains. Everything was nicely tucked in and organized just like the rest of the house, an array of decorations adorning it. 

“You can put your things away in the meantime. When you’re done, I’d like to get your measurements for your clothes in the future to wear if you ever feel like sleeping over again. It’ll stay here since it'll be more convenient for Yunho. Unless you prefer to wear what you already have, then by all means. My house is your house,” Seonghwa kindly informed you before shutting the door behind him. You love his congeniality. 

The room even had a floral aroma, relaxing you times ten. In the room was one of those drawers with no handle, so you had to push the drawer for it to open, very elegant like Seonghwa. You briefly put your clothes away, quickly changing from outside clothes into something for the inside. Seeing how clean it was here, you didn’t want to be the reason dirt was brought in. After changing, you walked out to the living room, your guest room was conveniently on the first floor, out of the three stories. The top floor is a full-sized gym.

Seonghwa busied himself on his tablet, sketching away at a new idea. “You mentioned that you wanted to measure me?” Seonghwa looked up from his tablet, pleased to see that you had changed clothes. 

He reached inside the drawer of the table in front of him, which was filled with supplies, taking out a measuring tape before towering over you. “I won’t do too much, just some standard measurements”. You don’t know what ‘standard measurements’ were, but it seemed like he measured every inch of you. Your legs, the inside of your legs, your arm length, the width of your shoulders, the length of your back, your bust, waistline, hips, and even head size. You don’t even know if he made hats. “Perfect. Thank you, my canvas”.

Padded feet made their way down the stairs, it was Wooyoung. His hair was tied back in a half-up ponytail, showing his ears more, wearing an oversized maroon shirt and gray sweatpants. “Y/n!” he’s already full of exuberance, sweeping you off your feet and spinning you around.

“Hello, Youngie,” you giggled after he put you down, his ears pointed up. “Where’s Sangie?”

“He’s finishing up his workout, but forget about him.” He interlocked your hands together, “What do you want to do today?”.

You laced your fingers back, “I’m down for whatever you or Yeosang want to do.” His face was suddenly mischievous.

“You can’t tell me that”, his tail swayed in tune with his body. “You heard what the guys told you the other day.”

Everything came racing back. “You seriously like kissing and showing affection, huh?”

“You have no idea,” you focused on the deep voice coming from the stairs. Yeosang's hair was dampened with sweat, his skin glistened in it too. He wore a black compression short-sleeved shirt and black sweats, wiping down his glowy skin and auburn hair. “He’d do it for hours if he could.”

Wooyoung didn’t have a response for that, considering it was true. “Besides that, I like cuddling, playing board games, and bullying Yeosang cause his reactions are adorable.”

Yeosang disapproved, heading off to wash up so that he didn’t come off unappealing, and because Seonghwa doesn’t like touching sweat. 

“Do you have Jenga? I saw it on YouTube, but I never played it before,” you inquired, earning a surprised expression from Wooyoung.

“Really? We have two versions, the regular and the one with the prompts. Which one do you fancy?”

You pondered. “Maybe just the regular one for now. We can save the ones with prompts for a different day.” Wooyoung agreed, joyful that you thought about visiting again.

He released one hand, leading you towards the other side of the house where all the “entertainment” was. It ranged from technology to board games, card games, puzzles, and stuffed toys. There were cushions on the floor for you to sit on, taking a seat on one, letting go of his hand so he could grab the Jenga. He sat across from you, opening the box and carefully preparing it, dropping some blocks anyway.

Your tail wrapped around your arm, catching Wooyoung’s eye. “Your fur is divine. I love Calico patterns.”

You waved off his compliment. “Yours is so fluffy, it's probably extremely velvety.” Wooyoung beamed at your compliment, he spun around excitedly. “The Jenga!” you exclaimed. He tumbled it over clumsily.

“Don’t worry,” Wooyoung didn’t care at all. “Touch it.” You complied, caressing it; his tail was more plush than you imagined. You almost forgot it was his tail with how you squeezed it to feel the density, making Wooyoung jerk.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” You retracted your hands. He switched to his original seating, an excited smile still plastered.

“It’s fine, it didn’t hurt, rebuilding the tower he dropped. “I groom it every two days and apply some oil so that it gets soft and shiny like this. One of my favorite attributes about myself, besides well”, he gestured to himself, head to toe. Seonghwa had some confident hybrids, which makes sense since Seonghwa was secure in himself as well. 

You played two rounds of Jenga, both games were more intense than they should’ve been. In the first round, you started safely choosing a middle block dead center of the tower, thinking of taking things easy. That was until Wooyoung skillfully flicked the bottom left block away, nonchalantly placing it on the top right of the tower. Your eyes widened. Was he trying to make it difficult from the start? Tilting your head to the side, you pulled out a side piece three stories above the bottom row, placing it on top. But Wooyoung just flicked the right block on the bottom, making the whole tower balance on its single middle block. 

“Do you want to lose or something?” You asked, perplexed. You thought the whole point of Jenga was to prevent it from dropping.

Wooyoung chuckled, placing the block on top. “No, but it makes the game more intense and entertaining”. He wasn’t wrong because the way you started stressing over where the tower was about to fall had you on edge. Because of Wooyoung’s earlier choices, the tower fell on your turn, the Maine Coone praised himself. 

“That’s not fair, you literally made it difficult from the start,” you pouted, slowly building the tower back.

“Win the next one,” Wooyoung shrugged, playfully sticking a tongue out. 

So you were determined, being the one to remove the bottom middle block and place it on top. He looked at you with a shocked expression, and you responded by poking your tongue back at him. Now, if he were to pull either side of the bottom blocks out, the tower would tumble over regardless. Most of the blocks pulled were safe, but you attempted to make it difficult for him. It was safe to say you won this round, watching as the tower fell on his turn. His head dropped in defeat, Now it was your turn to celebrate. 

“Did he cheat?” Yeosang appeared in fresh new clothes, wearing a white long-sleeved shirt and black shorts. He sat on a cushion beside you, playing with one of the Jenga blocks.

“No, he won the first round, and I won this one,” you proudly stated.

Yeosang faked a gasp. “Wooyoungie? Winning? This is unheard of. How did you let that happen? He’s usually egregious at losing games,” Yeosang quipped, releasing a belly laugh.

Wooyoung hissed at his friend. “Yah! I win sometimes.”

“Sometimes, very few,” Yeosang nodded, rebuilding the tower.

“You see why I bully him? He’s like this to me on the regular,” Wooyoung eyed you defensively. “He may look innocent, but he’s secretly a Charlatan.”

Yeosang couldn’t help but smirk, ignoring his friend. The three of you played one more round of Jenga. Wooyoung was persistent on making one of you lose, but Yeosang remained forbearing. Not knowing how Yeosang played, you stayed with the safer block options. Ultimately, you ended up winning again. Yeosang happily cheered for you; he secretly lost just so Wooyoung wouldn’t win, but he wasn’t going to admit that.

“New game,” Wooyoung packed away the Jenga, not accepting his defeat twice in a row. “Do you guys want to play truth or dare?”

“Sure—”, you were cut off by Yeosang.

“If I have to reiterate, she just came over about an hour ago. Put it away.” Wooyoung’s ears dropped, putting the game away.

You frowned. “What’s wrong with truth or dare?”

“Nothing’s wrong with truth or dare. But the one he picked out was for couples, so it includes suggestive prompts. He played this when San came over the first time,” Yeosang informed you, monitoring the games Wooyoung reached for. 

“Oh. Are you guys a couple?” Curiosity getting the best of you. 

“No. But we do help each other frequently. We even played this yesterday,” Yeosang pulled down the collar of his shirt to reveal his chest decorated in love bites. “He picked dare, as always, and the prompt was to leave one love bite in a place of your choice for thirty seconds. He decided to see how many he could make in a minute,” releasing the grasp on his shirt. 

“It didn’t seem like you pushed him away, he kept doing it thirty seconds extra past the time limit,” you eyed him teasingly. Yeosang tucked an invisible strand of hair behind his ear, you heard Wooyoung snicker at your comment. You technically weren't wrong.

Wooyoung brought out a card game called ‘We’re Not Really Strangers’. “This is a safer option. It’ll help us get to know you better since it’s your first day with us.” He opened the box, placing it in the middle of you three. “Ladies first”.

You pulled out a card, reading its prompt. “WILDCARD: Admit something.” You gestured the question to both of them. 

Yeosang stroked the back of his head, shy to admit. “I definitely let him continue,” earning a small shriek from you. How scandalous. He laughed in embarrassment, it was the first time you heard him laugh, and you wanted to hear it on repeat, honestly. 

“Out of all the scents amongst the hybrids, I love yours the most,” Wooyoung safely answered, Yeosang suddenly feeling like he should’ve kept it to himself.

Considering he was on the left of you, Yeosang picked out a random card. “What do you think my defining characteristic is?”

You didn’t have to think too hard about that too hard. “Your birthmark. I meant it when I said it was beautifully unique,” Yeosang smiled, the apples of his cheeks prominent.

“Your eyebrows,” Wooyoung commented. Yeosang hummed at his response. Wooyoung reached into the box for a new card. “What was your first impression of me?”

“Considering we met in the same clinic, probably ‘wow, this friend is very outgoing’ and then you introduced yourself 'formally' by biting me.” Yeosang reminisced. 

“Good thing I didn’t ask you, this was for y/n.” Wooyoung nodded toward you, Yeosang bit his tongue from what he wanted to say.

“I thought you were outgoing as well, you’re a people person. Not overwhelming at all,” Wooyoung’s tail swayed behind him, bowing his head towards you to rub his head. You did, loving how adorable he was acting.

Yeosang leaned towards your ear. “You say this now. Just be careful,” he pulled away, acting coy.

Softly chuckling, you reached for another prompt: “What is the most toxic trait you can admit to?” 

“I can be too assertive at times. Some people got distant because of my rowdy attitude, I was a million times worse than this until I met Seonghwa hyung,” Wooyoung replied, stretching his legs forward. 

“I can be possessive when in the mood,” Yeosang shyly admitted. “I mean, it’s natural in canine hybrids. I just thought I’d be different, it’s not like I’ll put anyone in danger. It’s more so that I need to remind myself or be reminded to relax.”

“Neither of those is too bad, especially if you have tactics that restrain you from harming the other person,” you reassured them. Yeosang’s tail wagged softly. 

Yeosang reached for a card: “Who in your life deserves the biggest thank you?”

Wooyoung answered quickly, “Everyone here and hyung’s house. You guys allow me to be who I am”. 

This was another question you didn’t have trouble answering, “Definitely Yunho. You have no idea how my life was before him…” Suddenly, the air got a bit heavy, but they let you talk; they never got to hear all the full details. 

“Having to move from one town to another to find shelter, stressing to find anything to eat let alone a hot meal, your only pair of clothes getting worn out and torn having to rely on bandages to keep you modest, being too naive and easily trusting of people that weren’t as genuine as they said. Having been like that for four months humbled me to never take anything for granted. Before Yunho found me, I was seriously about to give up. Staying in the alleyway that cold night, I hoped to freeze so I wouldn’t continue another day in torment. But it seems as if my previous owner sent me an angel. And to that, I owe him more than a thank you, but my soul.” The sincerity in your words left the hybrid's heartbroken. The fact that you had to endure all that but still put on a loving smile every day completely altered their brain chemistry toward you. 

They vowed to give you anything and everything you needed. Without hesitation, they would tend to you from here on out, guaranteeing you a life of pure happiness.

Instead of apologizing, and to lighten the mood, Wooyoung spoke from the heart. “Yunho made a wonderful choice that night. He saw a dandelion in the crack on the sidewalk and decided to carry it home, now that dandelion gets to bloom and share her love with others”. 

Your eyes got glossy, but you didn’t allow your tears to fall. “Thank you for your kind words, Wooyoungie”. Wooyoung gave a bittersweet smile, still saddened by your story.

“I’m utterly glad to have met a person like you. You’re patient with all of us and have such an angelic spirit. You display your selflessness effortlessly, and it's admirable. It’s as admirable as your will to keep going despite everything. You’re too pure for this world, a star falling from the sky and into our lives,” Yeosang softly spoke, wishing you nothing but the best in life.

Your neck felt hot, fighting back your emotions. “Are you two poets or something? My goodness,” you heartwarmingly giggled, grateful for such genuine people in your life.

You all decided to put the game away, not wanting to open further wounds. The rest of your day with them consisted of the three of you watching dramas and reality television, catching up to date with the newer episodes. Seonghwa had ordered takeout for all of you, deciding to settle for Japanese food. He ordered different sushi rolls, sashimi, ramen, udon, and onigiris to eat as a late snack. You never had ‘Ramune’ before, puzzled about how you’d drink it since a marble blocked the spout. Seonghwa showed you, using the blue plastic piece to push the marble down, releasing a small pop. As you sipped it, you’d hear the glass marble hitting against the bottle, it was kind of satisfying to hear. 

You noticed that as you ate, the hybrids would give you their favorite parts of the sushi rolls. They didn’t have to, but the gesture was sweet, so you accepted it. If you liked a certain sashimi cut, they would leave it only for you, even telling Seonghwa not to eat it. Seonghwa was confused as to why they were acting this way towards you, especially since Yeosang didn’t get a piece of his favorite sashimi—the one you were eating. He concluded that you opened up to them, seeing as they cleaned your face if sauce got on it even for a second. And if that was the case, he let you indulge to the fullest. You gave them a piece or two anyway because you couldn’t eat all this. 

Once lunch was over, Seonghwa encouraged you three to rest as he cleaned up and put the leftovers away. You settled for the sofa in the living room, using the tablet offered to you by Seonghwa. And because they couldn’t leave your side, Yeosang and Wooyoung joined you. You originally had your legs straight along the sofa until Yeosang sat beside you, placing your legs over his thighs to scoot closer to you. His ears were more relaxed, holding your legs close to him with one hand as his other hand scrolled along his phone. Wooyoung sat on a cushion on the floor next to you, leaning back against the sofa. He tilted his back to give you a quick wink before closing his eyes for a brief nap. 

Even their silence comforted you, feeling more than safe in it.

[frostedclock-writes]

Angelic Radio

Angel! Reader x Alastor

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Prologue

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Warnings: rated M for Mature.

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Chapter 1

It was an easy assignment at first.

A boy who loves his mother- a sweet woman with so much love in her heart and a eyes that reminded you of a doe's. Such warmth between the two of them.

You remember when the little boy would walk through the city in the mornings, hand in hand. You would float above them and watch as hours passes like moments to the two of them, the little shops they would enter and the park they would roam through. He would sit so patiently and draw as his mother worked long shifts at a little shop.

He loved playing piano. He took to it like a fish to water, always played such beautiful melodies in the afternoon for his mother as she cooked. He would sing tunes and his mother had a beautiful smile and laugh. She could have put some angels to shame with the brilliance she brought into a room.

He loved sitting in front of the large radio and listening to the far off broadcasts of the night. Enraptured as he doodled on scraps of parchment with whatever came to his little mind. He once had a shoebox filled with them.

You just had to nudge a bit. That was all. Stop him one step before going out into the road when those 'automobiles' first started to hit the streets of New Orleans. Catch his attention right before something would fall.

Then. It changed.

You wish you had been assigned to her as well. Truly. But, you had no choice. You couldn't do anything as you watched the brightest light in the boy's life get snuffed out. The mortals called it the 'Spanish Flu'. You prayed to the Heavenly Father on his behalf, but it seemed it fell on deaf ears. It at least happened quickly, but you didn't know if it was truly a blessing. Or just cruel.

Alastor Hartfelt was a different boy after that, though he was on the cusp of being a grown man. You couldn't believe the sweet boy was completely gone. It was getting harder to prove that to your supervisor.

Tonight was a good example of it.

You weren't ever visible to the mortals, a perk of being classified as ' guardian ' you suppose. You often stretched your wings as you floated a few feet above your assignment. Right now you had them sprawled as you glided on the gentle fall breeze. It was the middle of Autumn, and the sights in this part of creation always seemed so beautiful. You had appreciated it in previous years but now your thoughts were more worried on the young man below you.

Alastor still hummed, he still put on a smile, but you could see he forced it on his face. No longer a bright one. No it was a facade, a bit of your heart hurt when you would see him put it on for those he came across. You wondered if you could see that real smile again one more time before you had to be reassigned . You could only hold out for so much longer, keep your boss off your back.

He had been following a man for several days though, now. Same man, older than him by at least twenty years. Familiar lanky structure and sharp jawline. Lighter hair and skin though. Alastor hummed a jaunty tune today, he even actually seemed happier. Determination seemed to burn in those deep brown eyes.

You wondered what he was doing.

You flapped your wings a few times as Alastor came to a stop and you had to slow yourself. He tucked next to a new stand and picked up a newspaper, paid for it, though his eyes never left the man who had stopped into a store a few blocks ahead. Usually, after this, Alastor leaves and let's the man leave the city limits our to the swamps that swallowed the land around the city. He wouldn't do this, he would turn down a different street. You land down next to him. Your wings folded in to not bump anything, more out of habit than necessity.

Alastor wore a faded white button up and brown slacks with a few wrinkles in them. A simple bowtie brought attention to his sharp jawline and even sharper smile. He was handsome to be sure and every year you find yourself appreciating the Lord's creations. Or at least that is what you told yourself. Appreciating.

" Like clockwork." Alastor spoke under his breath, not intended to be heard by anyone.

The man came out of the shop with a few meager groceries in a paper sack. Alastor began to move again, you watched for a moment and you felt this twist in your gut. You opened your wings and flew above the small crowd of people that he weaved through to get towards the last few blocks that were residental and then out to the dirt trail that barely qualified as a road. You kept feeling a bad tingle in your skin. You flew down closer to where you were almost a foot away from Alastor.

" What are you doing?" You ask, though knew better than to expect an answer. Maybe he could feel your intentions though. " Why don't we turn around? The radio shop is sure to have a new delivery in. " You floated in front a few feet and kept pace. " What about.... Going to the park again? You liked the bands there. What about going to the cemetery ? I bet your mother would love a batch of new flowers? What did you place last time? Lilies?"

Alastor sighed and he kept moving. He pulled leather gloves from his pocket and slowly slipped them on. Darkness was fast approaching, you could feel the warmth leaving the air and little bugs the mortals had affectionately called lightning bugs joined in the dusk. You bit your lip and you stayed for a moment as Alastor walked past and down the dirt path towards the deep grove of trees gathered and blocking the man from view now.

" Alastor..." You whispered and then followed again.

He stalked through the woods like a predator might, you felt the feathers of your wings fluff up as you decide to land and slowly walk behind his own footsteps. What should you do? Should you grab him? Stop him? No that would get you in so much trouble, you can't directly interfere with their choices like that. It wouldn't be right. Alastor had paused for a moment, up ahead was a small cabin in the middle of the bayou. The man must have went inside, you thought. You reach out for a moment, your fingertips brushing against the faded white material of his shirt.

He moved just before your fingers made full contact and he stalked towards the door as light streamed out of the cracked front window. In the front yard there was a stump with an axe stuck into the dark rings of the wood. Alastor gripped the ax handle and yanked it from the stump, he glanced at the blade for a moment before his eyes settled on the cabin.

You felt your breath in your throat.

You hadn't wanted to believe it.

" Your getting reassigned. " Your heart felt like it might crack at those words. " This program isn't doing well anyway and the Cherubs have been able to do most of our job nowadays. " Your Supervisor, a woman whose appearance reminded you of a cat but her ears were wings. Agatha sighed. " Look, I won't put this incident on your record. "

You fidgeted with your hands, messing with your nails. " Where am I being reassigned?"

" I could send you to the Seraphim Emily's jurisdiction. You wouldn't have to go back to Earth, and you can forget about this matter. "

" Ma'am, please... I like my duties on earth, " you spoke, you thought maybe you could fix this.

" The orders have already been given. Y/N, just let it go. You shouldn't let one lost soul trouble you so much. " Agatha stood up and her ears spread with her wings and then folded back in like she was stretching. " You start there tomorrow. For tonight, go home and relax. Drink some tea or eat some cake. " She floated over, putting her hand over on your shoulder.

You felt like stones were in your stomach. "I.... Yes, ma'am . " You nodded and took a breath before leaving the Guardian Angel Office.

Your home was a little apartment just big enough for yourself on the upper portions of heaven where most of the heavenborn reside. You let your wings droop as you enter your apartment, closing the door behind you. You let out a heavy sigh.

" They are right, I should just let it go. Not like I will ever see him again. " You felt a pang of sadness at that thought. You've had millions of souls under your belt before and never felt bad about being assigned to a different human. But this time...

You shake your head. " Silly. I'm silly is all. " You move towards your couch and plop into it face first. You nuzzle your face into the plush throw pillow you had next to the armrest of the couch.

Your new assignment was easy. Decades of making winners happy, asking the newest additions what they could add to heaven to make it even better. Taller buildings, innvations in technology, something called Ice Cream, you name it, the winners got it within a few weeks of their arrival. You helped souls find long lost loved ones, that was your favorite. Some who hadn't seen the other in years, some who had only been apart for days. Though their bright looks gave a little light to your heart.

Sometimes your thoughts would drift to Alastor. Did he live to old age? Or was he cut down in his prime? Did he plead the Heavenly Father for forgiveness and he was somewhere up here and you hadn't been blessed enough to see him yet? No, but it was a hopeful thought that brought a smile to your lips even for a brief moment. Perhaps he had met his mother again.

"Y/N! Your pick up is ready!" The little deer cherub spoke loudly before moving back to working on other orders.

You pick up the two pack of smoothies and a bag of fast food. You glance at the bag and cringe a little. You hoped this was the right order. You had been asked to deliver this to a very important human soul who needed a quick meal. It was a bit different than what you were used to. But, a winner is a winner, right? A human soul who made it to heaven should be able to eat .... What was this slop? You looked at the slight brown leak out of the bottom and shook your head. You opened your wings up and looked at the adresss written in pen on your hand. It was an old address for human souls, odd. 26 Genesis Lane. You flew towards the very edge of the city towards the larger estates reserved for saints and very blessed human souls. You notice more fliers around as you approached the home. Wearing uniforms you didn't quite recognize but it was obviously some sect of heaven from the craftmanship. Some party maybe?

You landed on the concrete sidewalk that lead to the front door. Elaborate, gold and in the shape of an archway with French double doors. Statues of a man were littered all around in various poses that you had seen on TV for rock stars in the mortal realm. You walked by them quickly, you practically hopped up the stairs. Just drop it off and be quick about it. You stood in front of the door and jostle the food and drinks into one hand so you could knock.

The door swung open, you made a squeak in surprise and backed up before it smacked you right in the face. The food and smoothie however did not survive the two walking out of the double doors. They didn't even spare you a glance as they call out towards all the angels flying around.

" Alright you bad ass bitches, get your sweet cheeks down here right fucking now!"

Oh my ....

You shifted and you watched as all the girls you had dodged on the way in began to land around . You began to try and leave without causing a scene. You tiptoed around the edge of the crowd, which was beginning to be egged on by the man in white and gold robes with a mask that vaguely reminded you of a demon head with its horn shapes. You felt overlooked as you felt shoulders bumping and elbows shoving. Spears and swords wielded in hands and you felt a few handles jab you as you try to weave through the thickening thicket of angels.

" Excuse me... Pardon .. uh. If I could just ...."

You couldn't even open your wings up as the women around you clustered and the sudden rush in your stomach began to make a flip.

" Fucking go! Bitches!"

The the sea of grey became a rush of red as you suddenly felt the crowd around you move away and fly down below. A city? Red and burning. You spread your wings out to slow the quick and hard decent you are finding yourself in. Oh sweet lord. You stop just before you land on the broken concrete. You take a breath and you look around. A broken down city with blood and gore touching most surfaces. Trash and bodies were more abundant than clear space to walk. More bodies fell and joined as arrows took them down from above.

Screams filled the air.

Where even in Father's creation are you?

[arcadia-of-pluto]

Twist of Fate; Chapter One

Pairings; Rafayel x reader, Xavier x reader, Zayne x reader, Sylus x reader (Love and Deepspace)

Word count; 4,495 (sorry it's so short, I'll try to post three chapters today)

Themes; isekai, eventual smut

Rated; 18+ for swearing and some mature themes

Notes; To make things easier to read, I'm going to use emojis for who is texting.

Y/n 🩷

Rafayel 💜

Zayne 💙

Xavier 💛

Sylus ❤️

Hi everyone! This is my first time posting to tumblr so please be gentle with me! If you like this, then let me know! It would be greatly appreciated. My upload schedule will be every weekend (so either fri, sat, or sun!) Also, if the story seems similar, it's going to be verbatim with the story, just with my own embellishments to it. Without further adieu, I hope you enjoy this first chapter.

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Masterlist

A bright light shines within the dark room. There you lay in bed, playing a game on your phone late at night before bed. The soft background music coming from your speaker as the game loads up. You press ‘enter game’ as images of three men make their way across your screen, each one holding a special place in your heart.

Who says you need a real man? Fictional men are where it's at. They can't cheat on you, can't leave you, can't lie to you. It's a lot better than having to stress over a real person and worry if they'll leave you the next day or not. You know from experience, having two boyfriends in the past and neither lasting longer than six months- both breaking off the relationship before an anniversary. Screw men– well, besides the three on your screen right now. They were fine. Oh, and the fourth one being added a month from now.

The game loads in and you get a greeting from one of the men on screen. They take turns showing up in the Destiny Café, each able to say hello every time you log in. It was always sweet to see what they'd say, how they'd react, or any new text messages you'd get from them. You could even change their phone nicknames! You had Xavier, the sweet tired and aloof silvery blonde haired man, saved as Princess since you thought it would be cute. He'd definitely be embarrassed if you called him that. Zayne, the seemingly cold childhood friend and doctor, was saved under Snow Angel; you honestly didn't know what to have his name as that but it would just be amusing to see his reaction to it. Then there's Rafayel, the purple haired sassy and charming painter, who was saved as Nemo- again, very original. But Nemo works nonetheless. As you smile and send your daily stickers to each man to see their reaction, you get a new notification at the top of your screen.

“A new message?” You murmur, noticing that it's contact is unknown. The message was coming from the game. “It must be some new event. Weird…I wonder why there wasn't an update for it?” You back out of your message with Rafayel and click on the new message from the unknown sender.

:’Will you enter the game?’

“That's it?” Your brows furrow and you sit up in your bed, your phone lying in your lap as you scratch your head. “Wait..” You click on the message to reply and your keyboard pops up. “That's…” Usually, to reply in game, you get a choice between a few predetermined answers but for this…You just get to answer how you want to?

’What do you mean?’ You text back before reaching over to put your glasses on. Maybe you should've gone to bed earlier, it kind of feels like you're hallucinating.

You hear the chime of another message rolling in, and you look back down at your phone.

:’Yes or no? Hurry and pick one.’

This time the keyboard doesn't pop up, you only get three options.

ロ Yes

ロ No

And…

ロ Why?

You don't even think twice before pressing why, and the answer comes back quicker than you expect.

:’Please take care of them for me.’

You let out a scoff before running a hand through your hair. This must be some sort of elaborate prank. There's no way this is a part of the game, and even if it were there'd be no explanation for it. Is this the dev's way of getting back at you for sending so many support requests? Before you can think much about it, suddenly you feel more sleepy than before. Your eyes tiredly blink as you try to grab your phone to at least plug it up and get off of the game before you fall asleep, but instead you're lulled to sleep by the soft, melodic tune of Love and Deepspace.

Then a light so bright that it burns your eyes even though they're closed appears. It's hard to even force your eyes open, but when you do, you notice it's a big, deep crimson eye. Similar to the one you'd see in game. Your blood runs cold as you try to look around this unfamiliar area, but all you see is darkness. A dream? Yeah..this must be a dream. Although you've never been able to actively move in a dream before, there's a first for everything!

Right when you finally calm yourself down, you hear it. A loud explosion, the feeling of embers licking at your skin. Your ears are ringing, and you feel a sharp pain on the right side of your face. The darkness fades, and you're left with the blinding light of the sun against your back and your body lying on a pavement. Just lifting your head up to look at your surroundings feels like an extreme workout, everything about your body feels heavy. Sluggish. Though your left eye widens as you realize you're laying in front of a burning building. Something shining in the sunlight catches your eye, and once you grab the object, you find it harder to breathe. It was a dog tag with a charm on it. An apple charm with a star design in the center, and in the center of that was a ruby gemstone. The words ‘When U come back’ were written in cursive on the dog tag.

“No way..” you manage to croak out, the necklace clutched in your hand as you try to push yourself up, but the pounding in your head and the pain coming from your eye are no match, and you end up laying face down on the pavement in front of the burning home until you pass out from the pain.

Being passed out had its perks. You finally had a chance to think and put together a few puzzle pieces before you woke up. So if memory serves, what just happened was your- no, the main character's childhood home just blew up right after her best friend and basically brother Caleb stepped inside and her grandma, who adopted them both, was inside as well. They both died, and supposedly a mafia-like group called Onychinus was behind it because they were tying up loose ends as Grandma was a former researcher and scientist, experimenting on children and modifying them with aether cores. But the main character wasn't badly injured after the explosion, which never made sense honestly. You're that close to a building exploding, and you only get off with trauma and minor scrapes? That doesn't seem right…and honestly, the pain made it feel all the more real. If you were in a dream, that pain most likely would've woken you up.

So coming to terms that you're inside of the game was a bit easier that way. Though the bigger problem lies with your evol. You wouldn't even know the first step to using it, let alone resonating with another person. And firearm training. You've never shot a gun before, but you did take self defense and fighting lessons a few years back, but you can't exactly punch a wanderer. They're durable monsters that can shoot ice or anything at you and, some even have blades for arms…

“Great, it seems like she's waking up now.” You hear the deep, yet cold voice of a man. Then, you hear the higher pitched voice of a woman, “Finally! It's been three days, I just hope she doesn't insist on going back to work..” “She won't, doctor's orders.” The male voice says before you hear a door close.

Your eye slowly opens before you have to squint to adjust it to the bright white lights. A hospital? You try to sit up and the woman next to you rushes to help you. You have to turn your head to look at her since she's on your right side. Your right eye was also bandaged since all you can see is darkness out of it. The first thing you notice is her short bob cut. “Tara?” You say, your voice sounding a bit raspy and you tilt your head to the side. “Thank goodness, Y/n! We thought you'd never wake up.” She seems excited, bubbly and sweet…just like her character in game.

“That's..” Before you can finish your sentence, you start coughing. “Here, let me get you some water!” She hands you a plastic cup and you take a sip before continuing, “I…can't remember much.” You squeeze your hand in a fist, the sound of metal clinking together has you looking down at your hand. “You never let go of that. You've been holding it since..” Tara trails off and you're caught off guard by a sudden surge of emotions. You take a shaky breath as to not start crying, since that would definitely hurt your right eye before you look up at the ceiling. “I don't recall how to use my evol, how to shoot a gun…Can I still even call myself a hunter?”

“Y/n…” Tara sighs before taking your free hand, “Things can always be retaught, we're all just glad you survived. You should be glad to still have both eyes being that close to the explosion!” She smiled at you before handing you your phone. “I can't stay here long, but your phone has been blowing up for the past three days so make sure you check it out.” She pats your hand and stands up. “I'll visit later with a coffee or something for you.”

“The patient is advised to not have anything caffeinated until after being discharged.” A voice comes from the door before he steps inside.

Black hair, glasses, hazel green eyes, tall…

“Doctor Zayne,” I greet him with a small smile, suddenly more nervous and I turn to look at Tara. “I'll see you tomorrow, Tara?”

“Sure! That is, if I don't get a call about a wanderer..Metaflux readings have been crazy as of late, so we've all been pretty busy- but that's not to push you into coming in or anything! Your health matters more to us at UNICORNS so only come back when you're ready.” She says before leaving the room.

“How are you feeling?” Zayne asks as he comes closer, taking a seat where Tara once was. His eyes scan your whole body to make sure you're okay before landing on your face. He leans forward to take the bandage off of your right eye and you wince at how bright the light is for your non-adjusted eye. “It'll probably scar..” he murmurs, presumably to himself.

“I'm..” You trail off, sighing before you decide it's best to tell the doctor the truth. “I'm fine, but I can't remember-”

“Can't remember what?” He cuts you off, almost seeming more worried about just what you can't remember, which makes you laugh a bit. “Calm down, I was getting to that. I can't remember how to use my evol, use my gun, or anything to do with wanderers.” “Hmm..are you sure it won't come back with time?” Zayne seems to have calmed back down as he's now writing everything down on a clipboard. “I'm sure of that.” You clear your throat, looking back down at the necklace in your hand before running your thumb across it.

“I don't mind relearning everything but I won't be as good as I was before, that's for sure.” You lean your head back and Zayne quickly corrects you, gently tilting your chin back down. “If your wound reopens, we'll have to use stitches so be careful.”

“You'll get better at it in no time. Don't forget that I'll help you out.” Zayne says before standing up. You take a glance at the clipboard and it seems like he added ‘post traumatic stress disorder?’ as a note. You guess he assumes your forgetfulness might be caused by that, but you knew otherwise. “I'll leave you so you can check up on your phone.”

With that, the doctor leaves the room and you can finally let out a sigh of relief. It seems he didn't notice anything was off with you. He was honestly the hardest hurdle since he's known the main character for a long time, but you've noticed you tend to act like her to begin with so maybe it wouldn't be as hard as you thought.

You finally decide to put the necklace down on the table next to you, your hand aching from having held it so tightly and grab your phone. There was no code on it so you easy got into it, might as well put a code on it now..and now you go to check your messages. 45 missed calls from Nemo…Nemo? Your brows furrow and you flinch because, of course, that hurts the wound on your face so you quickly straighten your face out. The nicknames are the same as they were in your game. 11 missed calls from Princess, 55 missed messages from Nemo, and 5 missed messages from Princess. Zayne didn't leave any since he works at the hospital… though on the day of the incident, he did leave two missed calls and a reminder of a doctor's appointment.

You decide to check up with Rafayel first since he's a certified drama queen. You don't scroll too far up but the most recent text messages are just him being pouty that his ‘miss bodyguard’ is ignoring him.

🩷 :’Been in the hospital for three days, sorry!’

You decide that's sufficient of an answer before nearly jumping out of your skin as he immediately calls. You laugh before answering the call, being bombarded with questions the moment you press the green button.

“Which hospital, Miss bodyguard? What happened? Are you okay?”

“One question at a time.” You laugh before you start coughing and have to take another sip of water from the plastic cup. Your throat was a bit achy from not being used for three days.

“Which hospital?” Rafayel sticks with his first question, his voice void of his usual playful banter. “Uhm..” you look around for a moment, not exactly remembering the name of the hospital in game before spotting its name on the whiteboard in front of you. “Akso Hospital, room 205.”

“Got it.” Then silence. “Uh…Rafayel?” You say, taking the phone away from your face to notice he had already hung up. You shrug it off before going to your messages with Xavier. Most of the messages were just asking if you wanted to go hunting with him, sending locations, and the most recent one was from a few hours ago with him asking if you were okay.

🩷 :’At the hospital right now, been out for three days! Sorry about that. I might need some help soon though.’

Xavier doesn't immediately call like Rafayel did, instead just exchanges a few texts with you.

💛 :’what happened? are U alright? is it’

🩷 :’Is it what? I'm fine, a bit sore though. I got caught up in an explosion three days ago and have been out since then.’

💛 :’..nevermind that how can U be okay if u were passed out for 3 days? what's the extent of your injuries?’

🩷 :’Just a few bruises, scrapes, a sprained ankle, and…’

💛 :’and what?’

🩷 :’I might have a cool new scar over my eye!’

💛 :’thats not funny..what hospital, i'm coming now.’

You pause your messages, knowing he definitely can't come now if Rafayel is. None of the love interests have ever interacted in the game before, so you're not sure of the consequences just yet.

🩷 :’I'm probably about to sleep again! You can visit tomorrow, the doc gave me some pain medicine that's making me a bit tired and I wanted to talk to you.’

💛 :’alright as long as ur okay. i can wait as long as you need.’

You pout, trying your best not to gush over how sweet Xavier is, and drop your phone as your room door suddenly opens to reveal an exhausted looking, purple haired man. His shirt was haphazardly buttoned, his hair tousled as if he just got out of bed, and panic written all over his face.

“You didn't think to describe the details of your injuries to me?” Are the first words out of his mouth before he shuts the door behind him, walking deeper in the room to grab your plastic cup to drink some water. “You've been out for three days, you shouldn't even be sitting up right now!” He sits down on the chair next to the bed and you reach toward him to try and fix his shirt buttons. The tips of his ears turn red and he pushes backward on the rolling chair. “What're you doing- you're a patient.”

“Your shirt..” You drop your hands into your lap with a small smile.

“Oh-” Rafayel clears his throat, turning the chair to fix his shirt before he rolls the chair back up next to you. With his hand gently cupping the right side of your face, he murmurs, “How did this happen?”

You assume he's probably in shock since you were never scarred like this in any of the past lives you shared with him.

“An explosion from my..” You trail off, lips pressing together in a thin line as you find it hard to say what happened, even though you know they're not your actual family. “..my childhood home. Two casualties.” You finally finish your sentence, not meeting Rafayel's bluish pink eyes as he still cups your cheek.

The silence is almost deafening before Rafayel sighs and drops his hand. “I'm sorry for your loss.” He finally says. “Do you need a hug?”

You quickly shake your head. “If I hug you, I'll cry and I really don't need to..irritate my…” You can't seem to get your words out as your eyes water and no matter how hard you try to stop it, your cheek stings as salty tears run down your still healing wound. Rafayel moves to sit on the side of the bed, guiding your forehead to rest against his shoulder as his arms wrap around you. “We can always get your doctor to fix it, huh? It won't do you any good if you keep your feelings all bottled up now, will it?”

You can't seem to stop crying, even as your breath stutters in your chest and you find it harder to breathe. Sure, you cried when they died while playing but for it to affect you like this? Maybe it's because someone offered to be a shoulder you could lean on.

“Focus on my breathing. Don't hyperventilate on me now, miss bodyguard.” Rafayel murmurs, hand still patting your back as your tears eventually fade and you fall asleep.

Rafayel pulls you back from his shoulder, moving you so you're laid flat on the bed before he grabs a soft tissue to wipe your face, wiping the trail of blood coming from your wound since the salt from your tears irritated it. He then leans forward to kiss your forehead. “I'll see you soon.”

The next time you wake up, your eyes are puffy and your nose is stopped up.

“I see you cried yourself to sleep.” Zayne comments, tilting your head by your chin so he can examine your wound. “You irritated it.” He sighs. “If you don't cry anymore, it'll probably be healed up in two weeks..then you can cry all you want.”

“Well, I'm sorry, I had to cry.” You say with a pout, knowing it's not his fault. “When can I be discharged?”

“After today, your ankle should be better to walk on so tomorrow? But if you want to start work again, I'd say another few weeks.” Zayne finishes writing something down before standing up. “I also did a routine checkup on your heart in case that was the reason you can't use your evol and I don't think that's the case. I believe your evol revolves around your emotions so if you're not confident in it, it won't work.”

“Thank you, Zayne.” You say before taking a sip of the iced coffee that Tara left for you thirty minutes ago. Then you finally shoot Xavier a text to say he's free to come to the hospital whenever he wants, that you'll be discharged tomorrow.

Not even a minute after you sent your message, there was a knock on your door. You look toward the noise before smiling behind your hand. “Come in.”

A silvery blond head pops in from the now opened door before he comes in and shuts the door behind him. “How are you feeling today?” He asks, his soft tired voice sounding a bit more emotional than usual. “Mmh, pretty good. I'd probably feel better if you came a bit closer.” You say, leaning over to pat the chair next to your bed. He quickly comes to sit down, almost as if waiting for the invitation.

“Your eyes are swollen. Did you have a rough sleep last night?”

“No, I..” it's probably best to keep telling the truth for now. “I just cried myself to sleep.” You shrug, trying to play it off as nothing but Xavier isn't falling for it. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“If I cry myself to sleep again, will you hold me?” You ask, raising your left brow before laughing to yourself. “Just thinking about what happened, not being able to save anyone, getting hurt like this…” You feel a hand on top of your own and turn to look at Xavier. “It's not your fault.” He finally says after a moment of silence. A small smile tugging at his lips before he changes the subject, “What is it you wanted to ask me?”

“Oh right!” You sit up before turning your body to face him. “I need you to teach me how to use my gun…and how to fight….aannnd how to use my evol.” You name off each one and tap on your fingers to count them off.

“You..forgot all of that?” His head tilts to the side before he nods his head. “Alright, I can do that. Is there anything else you need?”

“Uh…can you pick me up tomorrow? I don't know where our apartments are…or how to drive my bike either.” You rub the back of your neck and smile sheepishly.

“What else did you forget?” He lets out a small laugh.

“All of Linkon?” You say before adding, “I mean, I remember names but I don't remember where anything is..like Azure Square, UNICORNS HQ, Twinkle Toys, Meow's Café..”

“Don't worry, I'll help with anything I can.” Xavier smiles, his thumb rubbing across the back of your hand.

“Thank you, that means a lot to me.” You smile before looking down at your phone as it buzzes. Rafayel. He's- on his way?

“Actually, could you get me a friend for tomorrow?” You ask, a smile tugging at your lips. “A..friend?” His head tilts to the side until you say, “Can you get me a fox plushie and bring it to me when I'm discharged tomorrow?”

“I-” Xavier laughs before nodding, “Of course I will.” He stands up, looking toward the door. “I'll leave now though, since you seem a bit restless, but I'll make sure you get all the plushies you want.”

Not even five minutes after Xavier leaves, Rafayel is in the room. Almost as if he felt a disturbance in the force that someone was with his lady right now. “Was someone just here?” He asks, trying to act nonchalant as he sits down in the chair.

“No?” You phrase it as a question before you nod your head. “Yeah, the doctor just left. He was upset that I irritated my wound but, at least, I'll be discharged tomorrow! I can't go back to work for another two weeks though.”

“So does that mean my bodyguard is still out of commission?” Rafayel pouts, a hand on his hip. “Well, that's a shame. I had an art expo to go to in a few days and I was wondering if you'd join me.” “Ah…about that,” you clear your throat before telling him all about the troubles with your evol and even not recalling how to use a gun. “Why don't you try resonating now?” He asks, placing his hand on top of yours. “But what do I even do?” You murmur, closing your eyes.

“Do you feel all of that energy coursing through your chest? Try to direct that through your body to your fingers.” Rafayel whispers. “Think of it like paint. If you pour paint on a flat canvas, it spreads all out like crazy. You have to take a paintbrush and direct the paint to where you want it to go. So your evol is the paint and you are the paintbrush.”

That…helps but doesn't help at the same time.

You take a deep breath, trying to silence your mind to be able to focus but it's difficult to have dead silent thoughts. Instead you try to imagine the energy moving from your chest all the way to your hands, which were clasped between Rafayel's much bigger ones. Then, you finally felt it. You were resonati-

You flinch as you’re bombarded with a few blurry memories of your past life with Rafayel; Well, if you didn't know, you would've just been confused but since you played the game, you knew they were of your past lives with him. Though they were blurry, so you didn't catch anything besides a soft ‘my bride’ at the end.

My eyes blink open and you take one hand away from Rafayel to rub your temples. “I think it worked but..” you look at Rafayel, who was uncharacteristically silent. Maybe he saw the same images too?

“Hey, did you see it too?” You ask, which finally gets his attention. “Huh, see what?” He tries to brush it off but you don't let him. “It was kind of blurry but I remember seeing you…in a purple outfit? Oh and you said something at the end.” You tap your bottom lip with your index finger, pretending to try and recall what you saw when, in reality, you only saw a blurry Rafayel. You never saw specific details like that. “You said my bri-”

Rafayel covers your mouth with a hand. “That's enough of that.” His ears were red and he wasn't looking you in the eyes. Then he clears his throat. “Anyway, I'll contact you soon about the expo since you seem to resonate just fine and then maybe I can show you around Linkon City to try and jog your memory.”

He leaves as quickly as he showed up, clearly embarrassed by what you were going to say.

“Cute..” you say to yourself, laughing into your hand before wincing and touching the right side of your face.

---------------------------------------------------

That's it for the first chapter! Since I wrote this on goggle docs, I wasn't sure just how short the chapters were but they'll get longer as we go on! I have a few chapters piled up so even if I don't write for a few weeks, I'll still be able to post. I'd love any feedback or even any explanations of the features on here to make the reading experience a bit better. I've never posted to Tumblr before so I've been just copying what I see from the tags and word count so I think I've done pretty well for my first time. I would love to learn how to do a masterlist though and also a next button, I guess I just have to link the next chapter on it? I'll have to test it out so please bear with me and I hope you enjoyed- and stick around for the chapters to come! 🩷

[burtreynolds-esquire]

Ashes

Chapter One - Change

Lottie Matthews x gn!reader

—————————

'You will never do anything in this world without courage. It is the greatest quality of the mind next to honour.' - Aristotle.

You moved to Wiskayok, NJ during the Summer of ‘95. Before the faithful day of the Yellowjackets plane crash, you have to navigate a normal high school life of friendships, crushes, unnecessary drama, actual serious drama, a shitty home life, and cheering at the sidelines for the girl’s soccer team.

Covers pre-crash, wilderness, and adult timeline.

Mature rating for later chapters for obvious Yellowjackets reasons. Cannibalism, violence, injuries, lots of swearing, possible sexual content (we’ll see).

AN: I originally wrote this with my OC in mind and changed the pronouns and everything for a reader version for tumblr. I noticed tumblr folk prefer reader inserts over OC’s so I did my best to accommodate that. There may be slip ups of female pronouns but I did my best to change every single one. I’ve kept it as vague as I can for the reader but certain things I can’t change, such as Lottie’s height being taller than the reader, the reader’s backstory and hobbies (which are still fairly vague in comparison to my OC) and during intimate scenes later on (if I write them) reader may be AFAB, it depends how well I am at writing sexual content without using gender specific words. I’ll do my best though!

~ Well begun is half done ~

1995

The warm rays of the late-afternoon sun cast a pleasant glow over the trailer park as it made its descent in the cloudless sky. A potent smell of marijuana lingered in the air as two teenagers sat on the back door steps of one trailer in particular, sharing a joint.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna come tonight?” Natalie Scatorccio asked her companion before taking a drag of the joint in her hand.

Natalie had met you, the seventeen year old who was currently sitting to her right, just a few weeks ago when you and your mother had moved to New Jersey from out of state. The two of you had grown somewhat close rather quickly, bonding over your paternal trauma and habit for smoking weed.

“Absolutely not,” you replied, your accent a stark difference to that of your New Jersey friend. “I don’t know anyone there and I’ll just be stuck on my own all night while you have Kevyn following you around like a little duckling.” You took the joint off Natalie as soon as it was offered to you again.

“Come on, it’ll be a good way to meet some people before school starts,” Nat tried to persuade you. “Besides, it’s the last weekend of Summer vacation and the party’s at the resident rich girl’s house… a house that has a pool. Which means it’ll be your final chance to attend a pool party before school starts.”

“Then I definitely don’t wanna go,” you replied as you gave what was left of the joint back to Nat. “The bigger the house, the more people will be there. No thank you.”

“Suit yourself,” Nat shrugged as she stood up to leave. “You still cool with picking me up tonight, though?”

“Of course, someone’s gotta make sure you get home safe. Tell Kevyn I’ll take him home too, I don’t mind.”

“Will do, thanks,” Nat replied before making her way to her own trailer.

“No worries,” you half-heartedly waved her off. You continued to sit for a few moments, listening to the sound of gravel disturbed by your friend’s boots as you heard her walk away. You leaned your head back against the rear door of your trailer home, soaking in the sun’s rays on your face with a contemplative sigh before finally standing up.

With the rest of the afternoon now free, you made the decision to wander the area a little more with your camera. You entered the trailer through the back door to grab the item in question from your bedroom, catching sight of your mother on the way in. She was sat on the couch in front of the television as she usually was on her days off, chain smoking her way through another packet of cigarettes.

Once you had what you needed, you walked passed your mom on your way out of the front door, which you noticed was slowly turning a shade of yellow from the constant cigarette use within the home.

“Hey ma, I’m going out for a bit. You need anything?”

“Hm?” Your mother looked up at you hazily, having not noticed your presence until you spoke. “Oh yeah, get me another couple packs of smokes, will you?”

“Sure thing,” you replied as you took some cash from your mother’s purse to fund the cigarettes. “I’ll see you later.”

Your mom didn’t reply, her focus being back on the TV once more. Rolling your eyes at your mother’s disassociation, you left your home.

As much as you hated that you had literally become trailer trash since moving to New Jersey, you were thankful to be away from your father at least. You often wondered about what he was up to now that you and your mother had left him behind.

‘I hope he’s drank himself to death by now,’ you thought bitterly as you made your way to a nearby park. ‘The world and everyone in it would be better off without him.’

~

Natalie woke up on Monday morning hungover as hell, feeling overly sensitive to the bright rays of sunlight filtering into her room through the gaps in the pitifully old curtains. Despite the party being on Saturday night, she’d spent the entirety of Sunday still drinking with a couple of her friends. And today she was feeling it.

And so, despite the pounding in her head and constant nausea in her stomach, she swallowed some pain killers, took a quick shower, and got ready for the day before hearing the telltale beep of a car horn outside.

Nat grabbed her leather jacket and opened the front door, seeing you waiting in the driver’s seat of your blue 1989 Toyota Corolla, 80’s rock music now playing from the tape deck.

“Get in, loser! We’re gonna be late,” your voice carried through the open windows. Nat rolled her eyes as she made her way to the car, noticing that you had placed your camera in the back seat.

“You bringing that to school?” She enquired once she sat in the passenger seat, nodding to the item sitting behind the you both.

“Yeah I was thinking of joining the yearbook or something, I dunno,” you explained, making your way out of the trailer park and onto the main road, heading in the direction of the school.

“Seriously?” Nat asked, her eyebrow raised. “Have you seen the kids that do yearbook? Nerds pick on them.”

You playfully scoffed at your friend’s teasing behaviour. You knew Nat well enough by now to know she wasn’t seriously insulting you.

“Be that as it may, I need an extracurricular and I’d rather it be something to do with photography. Otherwise what’s the point?”

“You could always try out for the soccer team.”

“Wooaahhh, I’m gonna stop you right there. Absolutely not. I’m nowhere near athletic enough for sports and you know it,” you laughed as you spoke.

Nat shrugged before answering.

“Fair enough, you could always try for the school newspaper as well. Either way, you’ll have to come to some of my games. The student photographers and reporters always make it to the most important ones,” she explained.

“Oh please, I’d be at all you important games anyway,” you smiled with sincerity. “I have yet to see these so-called legendary Yellowjackets in action.”

“Hey, we are legendary! I reckon we could go to Nationals this year if we don’t fuck it up.”

~

French class first thing on a Monday morning had to be a crime. Despite your maternal grandmother being born and raised in France, you had never taken to that particular language very well.

You looked around the classroom trying to find your seat, praying you didn’t seem as hopelessly lost as you felt. This classroom was laid out with tables built for two people instead of a single person, presumably so students could perform speaking exercises with a partner.

You finally found your assigned seat and sat down, the other one at the table already occupied. The student next to you was a girl with bright eyes, a warm and welcoming smile, and dark blonde hair. Or was it light brunette? You couldn’t quite tell to be honest.

“Hi there, you’re new,” the girl stated before introducing herself, her voice sounding just as sweet as her smile. “I’m Jackie Taylor.”

“Oh, uh hi…” you replied, a little taken aback at just how one person could be filled with so much pep this early in the morning. “I’m (Y/N)… uh, (L/N).”

You didn’t mean to sound so awkward, really you didn’t. But Jackie’s attitude just took you by surprise and if you were being honest with yourself, you were still half asleep.

“Oh wow, a different accent! You’re from out of state?!” Jackie asked in awe. “People are gonna love you around here. Most of us have never left New Jersey. I have, of course, but still!”

“Uh, really? I can’t be that rare.” You honestly didn’t know how to respond.

“In small town New Jersey you are,” Jackie explained as she watched you take out your things, almost fascinated by your existence.

“So, (N/N)… can I call you (N/N)? you any good at French?”

~

“Anything good happen on your first day of school, then?” Natalie was once again sitting in the passenger seat of your car, her right hand hanging out of the window holding onto a lit cigarette.

“I actually made a friend,” you replied in the driver’s seat as you pulled out of the school parking lot.

“No shit!”

“You have the audacity to sound surprised. I can make friends, you know,” you squinted your eyes in a mocking manner. “Her name’s Jackie.”

“Ugh,” was the only reply you got from Nat. Evidently your first friend did not approve of your newest friend.

“What’s wrong with Jackie?”

“Seriously, Little Miss Preppy Over-Achiever? How’d you end up friends with her?”

“She sits next to me in French class and insisted on showing me around during lunch,” you replied simply.

“Oh, well that explains it. She’s gonna be relying on you all year, Jackie sucks at French,” Nat explained as she flicked her cigarette away out the window.

“Well, I suck at French too,” you shrugged. “By the way, when’s your first practice? I kinda need to meet your coach.”

“Wednesday straight after school, what d’you need coach for?”

“Because not only are you looking at a brand new newspaper photographer, I’ve also been tasked with taking portraits for the sports teams,” you smiled as you explained. “I’ll be sticking around you guys a lot this year by the sounds of it.”

“No fuckin’ way, that’s actually pretty cool,” Nat responded with genuine enthusiasm.

“Oh? What happened to me being worse than a nerd?”

“Shut up. I was messin’ with you, (L/N), and you know it.”

You just gave a chuckle in response as you drove

home.

~

Wednesday morning rolled around all too quickly for your liking and you had woken up barely on time, so you got ready for the day ahead with what little time you had. By the time you were showered and dressed, you noticed your mother had already left for work.

Since moving here, the two of you didn't spent much time together anymore. Hell, your mom barely spoke to you now but you couldn’t help but not hold it against her. You’d both been through a lot in terms of what your father had done and you figured your mom would be ready to talk about things, or anything really, in her own time.

You found yourself sitting in your car once again waiting on Natalie. This would soon become your usual morning routine, you figured. And, yet again, the two of you drove to school whilst sharing playful banter and a morning cigarette.

At lunch time, you spent your time in the room assigned to the school newspaper. Wiskayok High seemed to love its sports teams so much, even the newspaper had affectionately been named The Buzz Bulletin after the school’s mascot, the Yellowjacket wasp.

You didn’t really have anything to do other than introduce yourself and meet the people you’d be working with until graduation. Most importantly, you would be getting to know a girl named Jennifer Miller, a journalist who would be covering all the sporting events, both soccer and baseball, alongside yourself.

She seemed nice enough and you both got on just fine, but you didn’t immediately click with her like she had done with Nat and even Jackie. You felt like you’d be coworkers at best.

Your last class of the day was English, which you coincidentally took with Nat. The bleached blonde girl sat in the seat directly behind you so you were in prime position to be pestered the entire time. Whilst Natalie was a good enough student that she’d do her assigned work, she also took every opportunity to torture her poor friend.

“Natalie Scatorccio, I swear to God…” you mumbled quietly enough so only Nat could hear after another small paper ball had been tossed at the back of your head.

“God, I’m so fucking bored,” Nat commented with a sigh. “I can’t wait to get out of hear and blow of some steam at practice.”

~

“Okay girls, listen up,” Coach Martinez called out to his team, all of whom were scattered around the soccer field in their blue soccer uniforms, which they’d worn specially for picture day.

Everyone instantly stopped what they were doing and made their way to their coach as he stood near the edge of the field with you, where you were feeling nervous at suddenly being the centre of attention.

“This here is (Y/N), they’re our new sports photographer for the school paper,” he explained as he placed his hand upon your shoulder in a gesture of introduction. “They’re in charge of taking your portraits for the year so I’ll leave them with you. They’re all yours, (Y/N).”

A few girls nodded at you in acknowledgement and Jackie even shouted from among the crowd,

“Hey (N/N)!”

You found Jackie and waved a little awkwardly at her. With both Jackie and Nat just across from you smiling encouragingly, you started to feel a little more comfortable amongst the strangers that you could soon hope to call friends.

“Uh yeah, what Coach said,” you started, cringing internally at your clumsy first impression. You took a moment to take a breath and calmed yourself before speaking up again.

“I’m gonna need some group portraits from you all first before I move on to doing your solo ones,” you spoke a little more loudly, willing the confidence to be there. “I’m thinking in front of the Western goal post, there’s less cloud coverage which makes for better lighting. Also the sun won’t be in your eyes so less squinting.”

You got a few chuckles for that as the girls started to casually make their way over to the specified area. Coach Martinez and the other younger coach were already manoeuvring a long bench in front of the net for half the team to sit down on.

“Okay, I’d like the goalie to be front and centre on the bench please,” you called out once you had quickly checked that the area and lighting were perfect. A red headed girl holding a soccer ball made her way to the bench, introducing herself as she walked by you.

“Name’s Van,” she said as she nodded her head briefly in your direction.

“Hi Van,” you replied, repeating the name in an effort to remember it. Van obediently sat down on the bench and placed the soccer ball between her feet as you instructed the rest of the team.

“Okay so I’d like the captain to be right behind Van, so Jackie if you please… then you with the big doe eyes, you can stand next to Jackie… Nat I’d like you to go next…”

This went on until only the tallest of the girls were left, and they were to join Van on the bench. You looked around the remaining crowd to figure out who you’d like to place where.

“Hey,” you gestured to one of the girls, “tall, dark, and beautiful… you can sit on Van’s right side.” The girl in question seemed to hesitate for a split second and very nearly tripped over her own feet as she made her way over to the bench, thanking whatever Gods were out there that you hadn’t seen the hint of a blush spread across her cheeks. Unfortunately for her, Van had seen everything and watched with a smirk as her teammate sat next to her.

“Aaaand tall, dark, and gorgeous,” you gestured towards another player, “you can go on Van’s left side.”

After another few minutes, every single one of the Yellowjackets were in place and ready to be photographed. You were about to get started until someone else caught her attention. An excited looking blonde girl with a hopeful look in her eye was watching from the edge of the field. Her blue and yellow jacket stated that she was the equipment manager.

“Hey, Curly, you getting in on this or what?” You shouted towards her. The girl wore an expression of pure shock before changing it to enthusiasm.

“M-me? Really?!”

“Yeah, get over here,” you called casually, not realising how much being included meant to the girl. The young equipment manager ran over and stood on the end, a wide and toothy grin adorning her face.

“Okay guys, let’s do this.”

~

Once you had taken an adequate amount of group shots, you let everyone go about their warm ups while you did the solo photos of each player. With the promise that they didn’t get too sweaty, of course. These would be their portraits for the year so they had to look good.

You did each one in numerical order, starting with number one: Van

It didn’t take long to get through each girl and when you got to number five, you smiled warmly as the girl approached somewhat nervously.

“Oh hey, if it isn’t tall, dark, and beautiful,” you greeted her as you got your camera ready to take yet another portrait for the team portfolio. “I’m sorry, I got way ahead of myself back there and never actually asked you your name.”

You, once again, were completely oblivious to the deep blush on the girl’s face.

When number five finally reached you, you realised just how tall she actually was in comparison to yourself. The height difference was very apparent.

“Lottie,” the girl introduced herself softly, her voice sounding careful and deliberate as she made eye contact with you for the first time.

“Lottie…” you repeated. “It’s nice to meet you.”

———————

[jungkoode]

死 KKANGPAE | #08 死

† chai †

"Sweetness doesn’t have a place in Jeon’s life, or at least it didn’t, until now. Because he’s been craving vanilla and cardamom and… chai? Hoseok is as annoying as always, and the fact that you may be at tonight’s celebration is… something he doesn’t quite know how to process."

next | index

⚔ chapter details ⚔

word count: 6.3k

rating: mature

content: snippet into jeon’s head, jeon’s POV, jeon being emo, sad vibes, insomnia, mental health issues, pills, suicide jokes, j-hope being a good friend and also a good doctor, celebrations, booze, female friendships, moon being surprisingly good at mixing drinks

☠ author's note ☠

I can literally HEAR all your "I can fix him" screams from here and honestly? SAME. I, too, want to fix the emotionally constipated sniper who probably sleeps with his combat boots on (￣ω￣)

Here's the thing—I started this whole endeavor thinking I'd stick strictly to the protagonist's POV. Very tunnel vision, very "we only know what she knows" vibes. But then Jeon's broody ass started living rent-free in my head and I was like... fuck, I want to show what's happening in that disaster brain of his too???

I'm sure you know the feeling. When reading, you just NEED to know what the hell is going on behind those cold eyes and that jaw that could cut glass. But it gets tricky, especially when you're trying to do this whole slow reveal thing without dumping too much info at once.

And trust me, the character of Jeon is like a cocktail made by a bartender who's having an existential crisis—way too many conflicting ingredients, definitely going to give you a hangover, but you're still going to drink it because you hate yourself. Or love pain. Or both.

So I decided to include snippets of his POV sometimes. It feels necessary—some conversations need to happen when our protagonist isn't there, and some emotional baggage needs unpacking for you readers to understand what's actually going on (like back in chapter 2 when we got that glimpse into his head).

Now, I'd love to ask for your opinion on this whole POV-switching business, but let's be real—this story is pretty much gonna be completed by the time you're reading this author's note. So... I'm just gonna trust my chaotic writer instincts on this one.

And if you don't like getting glimpses into Jeon's beautiful disaster of a mind? Well... you're gonna like it today anyway (•̀ᴗ•́)━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

⚔ socials ⚔

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tumblr/twitter: @jungkoode

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎

Jungkook doesn't do sweets. Never has.

His world operates in darker shades, tactical operations and precise calculations. Sweetness belongs to a different universe—one of bright colors and soft edges that he left behind long ago.

Sometimes a piece of candy appears in his pocket, usually after a meeting with JM who keeps bowls of them everywhere. He'll unwrap it absently, the crinkle of plastic echoing in his quiet office. Let it dissolve on his tongue while reviewing mission reports. The initial sweetness isn't unpleasant, stirring something old and forgotten in his chest.

But it never lasts.

The sugar becomes too much, coating his mouth like an unwelcome invasion. 

Cloying. 

Suffocating. 

He usually tosses the rest, wondering why he even bothered.

Lately though, something's changed. 

He finds himself reaching for vanilla cookies in the cafeteria. Ordering cardamom tea instead of his usual black coffee. Small impulses he can't explain, like his body's searching for something his mind hasn't caught up to yet.

And now?

Now the clock reads 4:16 AM. 

It's yet another night of minimal sleep—three and a half hours if he's being generous. The neon numbers mock him from his bedside table, surrounded by an array of pills that could probably tranquilize an elephant. 

All prescribed by J-Hope.

All increasingly useless.

Benzos. Narcotics. Nothing touches the corners of his insomnia anymore.

He's been fighting with his sheets for the past hour, tangled evidence of another failed attempt at rest. The black covers pool around his feet like spilled ink. His bedroom surrounds him in familiar darkness—walls painted to absorb light rather than reflect it, matching the void that lives behind his ribs.

The king-sized bed stretches out like empty territory, conquered by nothing but restless thoughts and the occasional phantom of memory. His room is a fortress built of clean lines and minimal decoration, a cell of his own design where even the shadows know better than to dance.

But lately, even this usually comforting solitude feels... different. Like something's missing. Something warm and sweet that he can't quite name.

Jungkook steps into the cold, the floor a shock against his bare feet. The shadows stretch across his bedroom, making the space feel hollow and vast at 4 AM. His movements are silent—years of training making even his insomnia graceful.

The lounge area of his wing feels abandoned. Empty sofas and tables wait like props on a stage, missing their usual cast of lieutenants and strategists. During the day, this space buzzes with mission plans and tactical discussions. Now it's just him and the quiet.

He closes the door to his wing, crossing into the neutral territory of the entrance hall. It's the DMZ between his domain and V's—a thought that makes his head hurt. Even at this hour, he can feel the shift in energy. 

V's presence lingers here like a bad taste.

The access card feels heavy in his hand. A small piece of tech that reminds him of his rank, his responsibilities. AD's security system responds with a soft beep, elevator doors sliding open on silent tracks. He steps in, presses the button for the common area. It's not his usual haunt—too exposed, too public—but lately he's been drawn there.

The descent gives him time to think. His mind drifts between fragments of nightmares and that strange, persistent craving for sweetness. It's been haunting him for weeks now, this urge for vanilla and cardamom. 

For chai and spices.

Maybe his brain is trying to balance out the bitterness that fills his days, or maybe he's finally losing it.

The elevator announces his arrival with a quiet ding. The corridor stretches before him, dark and empty. Somewhere down there is the snack area, and maybe, if he's lucky, a moment of peace.

He moves towards the corridor. Posters and artwork splash color across the cream walls—a jarring contrast to his stark quarters. He never quite understood the need for decoration, but the members insist on making the space "lived in." Whatever that means.

After 3 minutes, the common lounge sprawls before him, so different from his wing's militant precision. Here, rank means little. Divisions blur. The high ceiling should make the space feel cold, but somehow it doesn't. Maybe it's the worn leather sofas or the gaming consoles scattered about like abandoned toys. 

The air smells of polish and something unknown yet weirdly tranquil—comfort, maybe. 

He pushes that thought away.

Vending machines hum quietly in the snack area. Behind the glass, rows of sweets beckon. His eyes linger on a vanilla protein bar, then drift to some cardamom cookies. The craving hits again, piercing and mercilessly insistent.

But he's not alone.

AD slouches in a puff chair, bathed in the blue light of his game screen. His face twisted in its usual scowl, fingers jabbing at buttons with unnecessary force. 

The sight stirs something in Jungkook's chest—regret, maybe. 

Or guilt. 

Both emotions he'd rather not examine.

Their eyes meet. The air grows heavy. Unspoken words. Shared trauma.

The gaming console beeps softly. AD's character dies on screen. The silence that follows feels like an accusation.

Jungkook notes the way AD's blonde hair glints in the dim light as his eyes snap to Jungkook. His fingers still on the controller, body shifting into something more guarded, more alert. 

Jungkook feels his muscles tense automatically. The late-night sugar craving fades to background noise as AD's frosty stare pins him in place. 

Like a fucking needle cutting into skin. 

His hand hovers over the door handle, and he can't decide whether to stay or retreat. There's too much history here, too many buried regrets—and AD's presence brings it all rushing back—memories Jungkook would rather keep locked away with his other nightmares.

He immediately clocks the way AD's face contorts—sharp and bitter—and it makes Jungkook's chest tighten with familiar remorse. 

The younger man has never quite forgiven him. 

Probably never will.

Just as Jungkook decides to leave, to return to the safety of his isolation, AD's voice slices through the silence.

"No need for you to scurry off." The words barely mask the hostility underneath. "Was about to leave anyway."

Jungkook forces his shoulders to relax, though his jaw remains tight. Their paths cross rarely these days, and when they do, it's always like this—loaded silences and measured distance.

AD sets the controller down. Sharp. Angry. His movements are stiff as he rises, radiating enmity in waves that fill the common room. The scent of fresh lemons—AD's signature—grows stronger as he approaches.

But Jungkook doesn't move. 

Doesn't flinch. 

He deserves this, after all. This anger, this hostility, this remorse that reminds him of betrayals he can never make right.

The collision comes swift and deliberate—AD's shoulder slamming into his with force. The impact jolts through Jungkook's body, but the physical pain is nothing compared to the guilt that floods his system. His throat tightens with dusty apologies he knows AD would never accept.

He watches him stride away, the blonde's back rigid with years of accumulated anger. The sound of his footsteps fades down the corridor, leaving Jungkook alone with the quiet hum of the vending machines and his own thoughts.

There was a time when AD looked up to him, when their dynamic was different—better. Now all that remains is this bitter aftermath, this chasm Jungkook carved with his own choices. The memory of who they used to be makes the present cut deeper.

The gaming console's screen still glows, enhancing AD's absence in the empty chair he left behind. The 'GAME OVER' message blinks mockingly. Jungkook's fingers twitch, remembering late nights spent teaching AD new gaming strategies, back when trust wasn't such a foreign concept between them.

He should feel angry at the shoulder check; at the constant hostility that feels like a reprimand. 

But all he feels is hollow. 

Empty. 

Because how can he blame AD for hating him when he did this? When he destroyed something irreplaceable with decisions he can never take back?

He can't help but stare down the empty corridor where AD disappeared, the bitter taste of their encounter lingering longer than he'd like. His craving for sweetness feels almost desperate now—a childish attempt to wash away the guilt that gnaws at his chest.

His throat tightens. He swallows hard, trying to maintain the aloofness expected of Kkangpae's deadliest sniper. 

But it's hard, when AD's hostility has cracked something open inside him, letting old memories seep through like poison.

The vending machines hum quietly, offering a welcome distraction. He scans the selection without really seeing it, until—

Croissants.

Something shifts in his stomach at the sight of those packaged pastries. They're nothing like the fresh ones from the cafeteria, the ones you always grab during breakfast. Not that he's been watching. It's just that you're always there when he is, picking up one of those flaky pastries along with your coffee.

He's noticed, despite himself, how early you arrive to snag them before they run out. Same time as him, though his early mornings are spent running from nightmares rather than hunting down breakfast.

The memory of your routine feels oddly grounding after his encounter with AD. It's something simple, predictable. 

Unlike the mess of guilt and regret that follows him through these halls at night.

It's a strange comfort, this knowledge of your habits. 

One he doesn't understand.

One he probably doesn't deserve.

The scent of fresh lemons still lingers in the air, like a ghost of bridges burned and trust fractured. But as Jungkook stares at those artificially-made croissants, he finds himself thinking of chai tea instead.

He tears his gaze away, scanning other options until he spots a nutty protein bar. Practical. Sensible. The kind of choice the Chief of Tactical Assassinations should make. 

He jabs at the keypad hastily, and then, the machine whirs and drops his selection with a dull thud.

The wrapper crinkles in his grip as he retrieves it. Such a simple thing—choosing a late-night snack. No one gets hurt. No trust gets broken. No consequences ripple through the gang's hierarchy. 

Just him and a protein bar at 4 AM.

The common room feels different now that AD's gone. Quieter. Jungkook lets himself breathe, really breathe, for what feels like the first time since AD's shoulder slammed into his.

He should feel worse, probably. Should let the weight of past betrayals and broken friendships crush him like they usually do. But something about this moment—this stupid protein bar in his hand, the quiet of the room, the lingering thought of croissants and early mornings—makes everything feel a bit lighter.

His lips almost twitch into what could be a smile. It's weird, this tiny bubble of something in his chest. Almost like contentment. He doesn't examine it too closely, afraid it might shatter.

The corridors don't feel as suffocating as he makes his way back to his wing. The shadows seem less interested in reminding him of his sins. 

For now, in this small hour between night and dawn, he allows himself this moment of peace.

He probably doesn't deserve it. But for once, he takes it anyway.

Jungkook stares at his lunch without really seeing it. 

The cafeteria bustles around him, but he's carved out his own bubble of silence at the far end of a long table. It's better this way—no small talk, no pretending to care about division gossip.

His chopsticks push a piece of fish back and forth across his plate. The encounter with AD keeps replaying in his mind, each memory tasting bitter like the coffee he's been nursing for the past hour. Some wounds, he's learning, don't heal with time. They just scab over, waiting to be picked open again.

And then, a tray clatters across from him. 

J-Hope drops into the seat, his white medical coat slightly rumpled from what's probably been a busy morning in the infirmary. The doctor's eyes scan Jungkook's face with scrutiny, his mouth pulling into that familiar worried frown.

"You look like shit," J-Hope announces, ever the picture of bedside manner. "Two hours of sleep? Maybe less?"

Jungkook shrugs, still focused on mutilating his fish. "Don't count anymore."

"Those new meds I gave you—" J-Hope starts, unwrapping his sandwich with more force than necessary. "You're actually taking them, right?"

"They don't work." The words come out flat. "Nothing does."

"Jesus christ," J-Hope mumbles through a bite of sandwich. "Have you tried, I don't know, taking them before you spend six hours staring at your ceiling? Maybe with some tea?"

The concern in J-Hope's voice makes something twist in Jungkook's chest. 

He doesn't deserve this—the worry, the care, any of it. 

Not after everything. 

But J-Hope is one of the few people who still treats him like a person rather than a cautionary tale, so he tries to sound less dismissive when he responds.

"I don't need a lesson on how to take pills. They just don't work for me."

The doctor sets his sandwich down, eyebrows pulling together. A bit of lettuce falls out. "Look, I know you've built up tolerance, but we need to find something that works. You can't keep going like this."

"I'm fine." He's not, but he doesn't truly care. "Function better on less sleep anyway. More efficient."

"That's bullshit and you know it." J-Hope's voice rises slightly, anger seeping through. "You think I can't see what this is doing to you? The mood swings? The isolation? This isn't healthy, Jungkook."

Jungkook flinches at the use of his real name. "I don't need a lecture. I'm handling it."

"Oh yeah, real healthy coping strategy." J-Hope's scoff holds more concern than mockery. "Just pretend everything's fine while you run yourself into the ground."

Exhaustion weighs heavy on Jungkook's bones. Three hours of sleep and memories of AD's hostility from last night make his tongue looser than usual. "Maybe you should prescribe me your finest benzos. Let me wash them down with vodka. That ought to do the trick."

The slam of J-Hope's palm against the table makes the silverware jump. Several heads turn their way, but Jungkook can't bring himself to care. 

"If you want to kill yourself," J-Hope's voice is deadly quiet, trembling with rage, "don't you dare make it my prescription."

The cafeteria suddenly feels too small, too crowded. J-Hope's worry tastes bitter in the back of Jungkook's throat, mixing with guilt he doesn't have the energy to process. He shouldn't have said that—shouldn't have joked about something so dark. But three hours of sleep and a lifetime of regrets make it hard to care about much of anything anymore.

Silence stretches between them. Jungkook stares at his mangled fish, not really eating anymore. He knows what's coming—J-Hope never could leave well enough alone.

The doctor's voice softens, trying a different approach. "Have you considered meditation? Or maybe some calming music? I know a sleep therapist who—"

"I don't need a damn therapist." Jungkook's tongue plays with his lip ring, a nervous habit he can't shake. 

The metal tastes bitter, or maybe that's just the exhaustion talking.

Because J-Hope is wrong. Therapy won't fix this. Pills won't fix this. Nothing can erase what happened, what he let happen. Some stains don't wash out, no matter how hard you scrub.

"Look, Jungkook." J-Hope uses his real name again, and his throat constricts uncontrollably. "Ever since what happened with—"

"Don't." The word comes out sharp enough to cut.

J-Hope holds his gaze, unflinching. "You can't keep punishing yourself forever."

"I'm not discussing this." His voice turns to steel, matching the cold weight that's made a home in his chest.

Another sigh from J-Hope as he leans back. "Fine. But you know where to find me when you're ready to actually try and fix this."

Jungkook's jaw clenches so hard it hurts, a muscle jumping under his skin. But he stays quiet. What's the point of arguing when J-Hope doesn't understand? 

Some things aren't meant to be fixed. 

Some people don't deserve to be.

Jungkook pushes his half-eaten lunch away with a tired sigh. He can feel it coming—the same conversation they have every year.

"So," J-Hope starts, right on cue. "Making an appearance tonight or pulling your usual disappearing act?" He peers at Jungkook over his coffee mug, eyes too knowing for comfort.

"Haven't decided." The words come out clipped, because he feels already exhausted by the mere thought of socializing.

"You should come." J-Hope takes a careful sip. "Might help to interact with actual humans instead of just your rifle for a change."

"I interact plenty." It sounds defensive even to his own ears.

"Glaring at people from across the room doesn't count as interaction." J-Hope's voice is dry as desert sand. "Neither does grunting one-word responses."

Jungkook's tongue finds his lip ring, playing with it absently. "It's just a casual thing. Not mandatory."

"Right, just our leader's rise to power celebration. Totally insignificant." The doctor's sarcasm could cut glass. "Definitely not something a Council member should show face at."

"RM himself said it's not formal." 

"Maybe not officially. But you know what it means to everyone else. Especially the newer ones—shows them what we're about, what matters to us."

Newer ones. The words make him hold his breath. He thinks of Yunjin's bright enthusiasm, of your sharp wit. Of how you'll probably be there tonight.

The thought doesn't help him decide whether he wants to go more, or run faster in the opposite direction.

"You seem perfectly capable of handling traditions without me."

"For fuck's sake, Jungkook." The doctor's frustration bleeds through. "This isn't about tradition. It's about you actually being part of the team for once. Don't you ever get tired of the whole lone wolf act?"

Something bitter rises in Jungkook's throat. His tongue presses against his cheek—a habit from childhood he never quite shook.

Silence. He takes a slow breath, measuring his words. 

"I'll think about showing up."

It's not a yes, but J-Hope takes what he can get. The doctor's shoulders relax slightly as he leans back, apparently satisfied with even this crumb of compliance.

"Got patients waiting," J-Hope says, collecting his things. The coffee mug scrapes against the tray. "Try to sleep before tonight, yeah?"

Jungkook makes a noncommittal sound, already drifting into thoughts of empty corridors and quiet corners where he won't have to pretend to be social. Where he won't have to see AD's hatred or V's cruel smile. Where he won't have to watch you move through the crowd, chai-scented and d̶i̶s̶t̶r̶a̶c̶t̶i̶n̶g̶ irrelevant.

J-Hope's footsteps fade into the cafeteria buzz, leaving Jungkook alone with his cold coffee and colder thoughts. 

Another conversation that changes nothing, fixes nothing.

Just like everything else in his life.

"What?"

The word tumbles out of your mouth before you can stop it. 

Smooth, real smooth.

Chaewon snorts, eyes crinkling. "Right, keep forgetting you're still a baby gang member. Tonight's the whole 'RM took over this shitshow' party."

You frown, because seriously? Four months in and you're just now hearing about this? Some Seduction Division recruit you are.

"It's not a big deal," Chaewon adds, probably seeing the confusion on your face. "RM didn't even start it. We just got drunk on the first anniversary and now it's a thing."

Eunchae pops her head between you and Chaewon, her light brown hair tickling your cheek. "Plus, you know. Give gang members an excuse to drink and we'll run with it."

You lean back against the couch, letting your head fall back softly. 

Great. 

Another Kkangpae tradition you and Yunjin missed the memo on. At this rate, you'll still be the clueless newbies when you're both grey and wrinkled.

"So what, we just show up and get wasted?" you ask, trying to sound casual. Like you're not low-key freaking out about what to wear or how to act around the higher-ups when they're three sheets to the wind.

Chaewon shrugs, picking at her nails. "Pretty much. Some people get all fancy, others come in sweatpants. It's not like RM gives a shit either way."

A flash of bubblegum pink catches your eye. Yunjin shuffles in, hair wrapped in a towel and dripping onto her shoulders. Perfect timing, as always.

"Did someone say alcohol?" She plops down on the sofa arm, water droplets flying everywhere. "Because I'm not playing nurse again tonight."

"That was one time!" Eunchae's voice pitches up in defense. "And that mark needed me to drink!"

Kazuha snorts. "You could've said no."

"To free drinks?" Eunchae spins around, hand on her chest like she's been mortally wounded. "In this economy?"

"She's got a point," Sakura drawls from her sprawl across the couch. Her long legs dangle over the armrest, taking up way too much space.

Yunjin tugs at her towel, rolling her eyes. "Well, don't come crying to me when you're hugging the toilet later."

You can't help but laugh. These idiots are really your team now. "I take it parties get pretty wild around here?"

"Oh honey." Kazuha's lips twitch. "There's a reason strip poker got banned."

"I'm sorry, what?" Your eyes go wide. Because what.

"It was brief but iconic." Eunchae grins, nudging your shoulder. "Sakura tried to slide across a table."

"And I would've made it!" Sakura calls out, not even bothering to lift her head. "That loose board was sabotage, I swear."

"Sure, blame the table." Eunchae turns to you with a conspiratorial wink. "Just wait till you see what happens when someone breaks out the tequila."

You raise an eyebrow, already mentally noting which Council members to avoid when the drinks start flowing. 

"Thanks for the warning. I'll stay away from any furniture surfing attempts."

Your teammates' laughter fills the room, and something warm blooms in your chest. It's weird how these chaotic idiots have become your f̶a̶m̶i̶l̶y̶ friends in just four months.

Chaewon leans back, crossing her legs. "Tonight's pretty chill though. Eat, drink, try not to pass out in a bush somewhere."

"Now that's what I'm talking about." Eunchae bounces in her seat like an overexcited golden retriever.

"Open field, 8 PM." Chaewon's voice shifts into what you've dubbed her 'mom tone.' "We're doing BBQ, and there'll be enough booze to knock out a small army. Wear whatever, but bundle up—it gets cold as balls out there."

"That's two hours from now!" Eunchae flops dramatically across the couch. "Two whole hours. I'm starving now."

"Is food literally all you think about?" Kazuha rolls her eyes, but there's fondness in her tone.

"I could think about other things." Eunchae wiggles her eyebrows. "But food's never disappointed me like men do."

You snort at that. She's not wrong. In your four months here, you've learned (mostly from Yunjin's gossip) that Kkangpae men are like a box of chocolates—mostly bitter, occasionally nutty, and always complicated.

The girls dissolve into giggles again, and you find yourself joining in. Maybe it's the promise of alcohol, or maybe it's just the way these dorks make even a deadly criminal organization feel weirdly homey, but you're actually looking forward to tonight.

God help you.

It's 8:10 PM when you finally head out. You went with comfy over fancy—oversized grey hoodie over a white turtleneck, because fuck freezing to death. The thermal lining is probably the best purchase you've made since joining Kkangpae. That, and these loose jeans that actually have functional pockets.

A flash of pink appears in your peripheral vision before Yunjin loops her arm through yours, practically vibrating with enthusiasm.

"Aren't you excited?" She bounces on her toes like a kid with a sugar rush. "I heard these parties are insane!"

You can't help but laugh. Her enthusiasm is s̶w̶e̶e̶t̶ infectious. But the elevator dings before you can respond, doors sliding open to reveal—oh.

V lounges inside, arm draped over JM's shoulders like the Finance Chief is his personal armrest. JM seems unbothered, wearing that patient smile he gets when dealing with V's... everything. His salmon-colored hair looks soft under the elevator lights.

"Ladiessssss!" V draws out the word like he's auditioning for Parseltongue lessons. He shifts to make room, though his arm stays firmly around JM. "Coming to party with us common folk?"

"Free food's free food." You shrug, stepping in beside Yunjin who's still clinging to your arm.

She giggles at your response, squeezing your arm tighter. You catch JM's eye and nod—proper respect for a Council member and all that. He returns it with a warm smile that makes his eyes crinkle behind his round glasses.

The elevator feels smaller with four people, especially when one of them is V taking up space like it's his job. But hey, at least it's not AD. Or worse, J̶e̶o̶n̶ certain other Council members.

"Evening, JM." You smile at him, because it's hard not to. His aura always feels like a warm blanket—the complete opposite of V's chaotic energy.

"Good evening." JM's voice is soft, gentle. "I hope the night finds you well."

"What is this, fucking Shakespeare?" V waves his hand dismissively. "Save the fancy talk for business hours. Tonight's for getting wasted and making bad decisions. Luckily we will be free of certain judgemental stares."

"V." JM's warning comes with a poorly hidden smile.

"What? Just saying what everyone thinks." V grins, all teeth. "Not my fault someone walks around like they've got a steel rod up their ass."

"Pretty sure that's just the natural reaction to dealing with you for years." The words slip out before you can stop them.

"Wow. Wow." V pretends you've stabbed him in the chest. "Already picking sides? And here I thought we were gonna be besties."

You roll your eyes. "Not picking sides. Just speaking from personal experience."

"Brief experience," he corrects, wagging a finger at you. "You haven't seen all my charms yet. I grow on people, like mold."

"That's... not the selling point you think it is."

Finally the metallic doors open to the ground floor. Through the glass gates, you can see the open field where everyone's gathering. The sky's already dark, stars peeking through like tiny paint droplets.

Here goes nothing.

The field buzzes with activity, gang members scattered around like the stars peppered across the night sky. A bonfire crackles in the middle, throwing warm light over everyone's faces. The smell of BBQ makes your stomach growl—you haven't eaten since lunch.

RM's white hair catches the firelight, making him look almost ethereal. It's weird seeing him like this, gesturing animatedly as he talks. The fearsome leader of Kkangpae, actually laughing. Who knew?

Moon hovers by the drinks, playing bartender—although still maintaining his usual polite efficiency. Though tonight his smile seems more genuine, less 'I'm being nice because I'm your superior' and more 'want another beer?'

Jessi and Chaewon huddle together near the fire, probably plotting world domination or sharing gossip. The flames dance in Jessi's red hair while Chaewon leans in close, looking more relaxed than you've ever seen her during training.

V drags JM toward the grill, still attached to him like a very loud, very clingy octopus. "Make way for the master chefs!" he hollers, making JM shake his head with fond exasperation.

Your eyes scan the crowd before you can stop yourself. Looking for broad shoulders in black leather, for silver piercings catching firelight. For that scent of pine and wood that's become way too f̶a̶m̶i̶l̶i̶a̶r̶ noticeable lately.

But Jeon isn't here.

You feel something waver in your chest—disappointment maybe, or just hunger. 

Yeah, definitely hunger. 

You push the thought away and focus on the party. There's food and alcohol and your friends are here. That's what matters.

Yunjin tugs you toward the bonfire, and god, the warmth feels good after the castle's perpetual AC chill. It's weird seeing everyone so relaxed—like someone hit pause on all the gang politics and murder plots for one night.

You sink onto a log bench, letting the fire chase away the evening cold. The flames bathe everyone in soft gold, making even the most hardened killers look almost n̶i̶c̶e̶ normal for once.

J-Hope appears through the crowd like a ghost in his white medical coat, looking like he's about to collapse. The bags under his eyes have bags of their own, but he's still got that manic energy that keeps him running on fumes and spite.

He drops onto the bench nearby with a groan that sounds like his soul trying to escape. The scent of sandalwood follows him, mixing with woodsmoke.

"Rough day?" you ask, eyeing his very out-of-place doctor getup.

His laugh comes out more like a wheeze. "You could say that." He waves vaguely at his coat. "Didn't exactly get a wardrobe change break."

Yunjin giggles beside you, still clutching your arm like a pink-haired koala.

Your eyes scan the crowd again, definitely not looking for anyone s̶p̶e̶c̶i̶f̶i̶c̶ particular. "Where's the rest of the Council?"

"Well," J-Hope snorts, "AD's busy losing at League of Legends. Says he'll grace us with his presence when he's done raging at his screen."

"And Jeon?" The question slips out. Smooth. 

J-Hope answers your question with a nod toward the field entrance. Your eyes follow and—oh.

Jeon strides in with Takama, both of them loaded down with enough meat to feed a small country. The firelight catches on his silver piercings, and fuck, he shouldn't look this good just carrying groceries. Your heart does that stupid little skip thing it's been doing lately whenever he's around.

But it's like... something's different about him tonight. The usual ice-prince vibe is dialed down a notch, replaced by something almost... approachable.

Unapproachably approachable.

Takama actually has him engaged in conversation—a miracle in itself. His shaved head immediately grabs your attention as he says something that makes Jeon relax slightly.

They drop the meat by the grill, and you notice how Jeon's eyes sweep across the crowd. It's quick, casual, but you catch it anyway. There's something searching in his gaze, like he's looking for... well. Probably just checking the perimeter or whatever security shit he does.

You turn back to J-Hope, trying to ignore the warmth in your cheeks. "Even party night comes with duties, huh?"

"That's Kkangpae for you." J-Hope's voice carries a touch of dry humor. "We don't do proper days off here."

He's right. Even now, surrounded by laughter and firelight and the promise of good food, you're all still playing your parts. Though watching Jeon handle those heavy bags like they're nothing makes you think some roles aren't so bad to watch.

Get it together. 

You sink deeper into the bench, letting the bonfire's warmth seep into your bones. The sound of laughter and sizzling meat hovers around you; everyone's guard lowered just a fraction under the stars.

Takama then leads Jeon toward the fire, some members sprawled out on the grass around them like lazy cats. The deputy's eyes find yours, his smile genuine—a rare sight in your line of work.

"Ankle doing better?" he asks, and you're touched he remembers.

"All healed up, thanks." You return his smile, because Takama's one of the few higher-ups who actually seems to give a shit about the recruits.

Jeon just nods at you, dark eyes meeting yours for a split second before sliding away. You're starting to notice is his thing—minimal effort, maximum impact. Your skin prickles despite the fire's heat.

The conversation naturally flows around you, mission stories and inside jokes mixing seamlessly even between different divisions. You half-listen, too aware of Jeon's presence at the edge of the group. He pulls out his cigarettes with those r̶i̶d̶i̶c̶u̶l̶o̶u̶s̶l̶y̶ ̶n̶i̶c̶e̶ steady hands, placing one between his pierced lips in a way that makes your mouth go dry.

But before he can light up, J-Hope shoots him a look that could freeze hell. Some silent doctor-patient communication passes between them, and Jeon clicks his tongue, shoving the cigarette back in its pack. Frustration flashes across his face before he quickly shoves it down. 

But you catch yourself studying him—the way his fingers fidget with the lighter he can't use, how his jaw clenches when he's annoyed. Little details that paint a picture of the man behind the cold exterior. 

Not that you're paying special attention or anything.

Moon's got a nice little bar setup going by the drinks station. You could use something to take the edge off this weird night. So you stand up, already missing the bonfire's warmth whilst stretching your arms above your head.

"Getting drinks," you tell Yunjin, who's deep in conversation with some other recruits. "Want anything?"

Her eyes light up. "Beer, please!"

You glance at Takama, still chatting with his boss. "Beer run. You in?"

"That'd be great, thanks." His smile is genuinely warm.

You look at the doctor—J-Hope's been quiet, watching everything with those too-observant eyes—and ask him too. 

"Can I grab you something?"

"I don't drink." His tone is light but final. Like a door closing.

You nod, not pushing it. Your eyes drift to Jeon last, catching him staring into the flames like they hold all life's answers. He meets your gaze for a second, and you'd swear something unreadable flickering across his face before he looks away.

"Whisky on the rocks," he mutters, barely audible over the crackling fire.

You bite back a smile. Of course he drinks whisky. Probably the expensive kind too, the pretentious a̶s̶s̶h̶o̶l̶e̶ guy.

Moon's showing off his bartending skills to an impressed crowd when you approach. Time to see if the Deputy Commander makes drinks as precisely as he runs operations.

His back is turned to you as you approach, mixing something that probably has enough alcohol to knock out a horse. But he moves confidently, like he's done this a thousand times before.

When he finally finishes serving another member, you step up. His serious bartender face melts into something more welcoming.

"What can I get you?" He wipes his hands on a towel, all proper and polite as usual.

"Vodka lemonade for me," you say. "Plus whisky on the rocks and two beers for the others."

He nods, already reaching for bottles. "Coming right up."

You watch him work, impressed despite yourself. "Where'd you learn all this fancy mixing stuff?"

"Been around a while," he chuckles, measuring vodka into a shaker. "It's useful—nothing settles gang politics like a good drink."

"You're really good at this," you say, leaning against the counter. "Like, seriously good."

His hands pause for a split second. A small smile tugs at his lips. 

"Thanks. It's an old passion. Actually wanted to open my own bar once—somewhere quiet, away from all..." He gestures vaguely at the chaos around you.

"That's... not what I expected." You watch him pour whisky over ice with perfect precision. 

"Life's funny that way." He slices a lemon expertly. "We all had different plans before this. Different dreams. But here we are."

Something in his voice makes you pause—because yeah, it's so easy to forget sometimes that everyone here has a story, a before. Even Moon, with his perfect posture and formal suits, had different dreams once.

The thought sits heavy in your chest as he lines up your drinks. You wonder what dreams everyone else gave up to end up here, in a criminal organization's makeshift bar under the stars.

"What about you?" Moon asks, stirring your drink now. "Got any derailed dreams?"

You consider the question, because it feels surreal to be having this kind of talk with the Deputy Commander—usually conversations here stick to missions and murder plots.

"Pretty sure we all left something behind when we joined." The words come out slower than intended. "Different paths all leading to the same fucked up destination, right?"

Moon hands you the drinks, and his expression is softer. "That's gang life for you. Trade in your old self, get a new family and some trauma in return."

"Any regrets?"

He gets this far-away look, like he's seeing something beyond the makeshift bar. Then he shakes his head. 

"Made my choice. Even the darkest paths have their bright spots."

You take the drinks, mentally filing away this unexpectedly deep conversation with Kkangpae's second-in-command. Who knew he had a philosophical side under all that formality?

"Thanks for the drinks. And the..." You gesture vaguely with your chin, since your hands are full. "This whole thing."

His smile actually reaches his eyes this time. "Anytime. Now go before those drinks get warm."

"You joining us later?"

"Once dinner's ready." He's already turning to help another member.

You nod, somehow managing to stuff the beer cans in your hoodie pocket while balancing two glasses. The bonfire calls you back, its warmth promising more interesting conversations ahead.

Though probably none as surprising as this one.

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