#he's so fucking strange... fully dressed save for shoes and getting up out of a coffin looking disoriented as hell

[hxneylavendxr]

Did you see the card where rei has a potato

im looking at it now and laughing at him he's kind of slutting it up Also he is not looking where he is cutting

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | fake marriage au [18+]

in holy matriphony ch6. the in-laws

ᰔ pairing. fake marriage au - neighbor&realtor!gojo x nurse!reader (ft. choso x reader & suguru x reader)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is your extremely annoying next-door-neighbor who you're pretty sure is the most insufferable man you've ever met. given the fact that you exclusively work the night shift at a chaotic emergency dept, just got broken up with your boyfriend of seven years, and have been taking care of your sick mother ever since her multitude of diagnoses, yet somehow your neighbor is the main source of stress in your life should speak volumes. but when your mother's medical bills start to skyrocket to more than you can manage, and you learn that said neighbor of yours has the best private health insurance plan in the country, you ask him to enter a matrimonial agreement with you for the spousal benefits all in the name of saving a few hundred thousand dollars. but you'll have to see if suffering cohabitation w him is worth any amount of money.

ᰔ genre/tags. fluff, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), annoyances to lovers (that's more like it), small town romance, fake marriage, next door neighbors, lots of bickering, suburban shenanigans, slow burn, mutual pining, gojo likes to play house but you don't, hatred for the american healthcare system, gojo always forgets to mow the lawn, jealousy, an insane amount of profanity, mentions of cigarettes, depression/anxiety; btw gojo in this fic is in his mid 30s n reader is in her late 20s

ᰔ warnings. reader in this fic has a sick mother w alzheimer's & cancer so there is secondary medical angst!!

ᰔ chapter. 6/x

ᰔ words. 12.6k

a/n. hiii my ihm lovelies!! hope you all had a great holiday season. i wanted to get this chapter out as a christmas gift but i failed and then i wanted to get it out as a new years post but failed and then i got food poisoning yesterday and while i was rotting in bed i ended up finishing the chapter LOL. it seems i can only write when i'm under duress? but anywho. hope you enjoy haha and see you at the bottom!

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“Alright, let’s head out,” you hear Gojo say from the bottom of the staircase, followed by the sound of dress shoes on the hardwood floor, and you glance over to see him clad in a navy suit with a white button up shirt that had one singular button undone. He’s messing with the cuffs of his suit jacket as he makes his way over to you. You catch the scent of his cologne, and it’s alarming how familiar it’s become to you.

Days go by shorter lately, mainly because it’s winter, and so the sun has almost fully set by 6pm. The sky outside is a dark hue of purple, seen past the windows of Gojo’s house, and the warm, dim lighting inside makes you feel strangely nostalgic. Like in a way that feels like home.

You tirelessly tousle with your hair at the mirror hanging above the foyer table that was snug up against the wall at the front entrance. Your hair wasn’t cooperating. You attempted to curl it, for the first time in forever given you can’t remember the last time you had enough time to do your hair, so you were out of practice. It was obvious, given the way some strands were curled outwards from your face, some inwards, some straighter than others, some curlier than others, and you were about to have a full blown mental breakdown before you remember your grounding exercises– 1, 2, 3, 4.

You turn to face Gojo, who you saw in the mirror was standing behind you and watching you with amusement, and you breathe in deep. “How do I look?” you ask, petting down the fabric of your dress as you face him. The thought occurs to you–why do you give so much of a fuck how you look right now? It’s just Gojo’s family. It’s not like they’re actually your in-laws. And from what Gojo’s mother had told you, it was just an intimate little get-together with Sana’s family. It’s really not a big deal. Yet the necessity to impress still consumes you.

Gojo threads his hands into the pockets of his pants and tilts his head to assess your appearance, and you watch his gaze trace the frame of you. “Nice,” he says, “you look nice.”

“That’s it? Just nice?”

“Well, I tried to call you hot earlier, but it got me yelled at.”

You roll your eyes and grab your purse off the foyer table, “okay, whatever, I’ll take it.” And then you head towards the front door. You hear the jingle of car keys from behind you as they’re shoved into a pocket.

The outside air is chilly in a way that’s almost sobering. Gojo opens the door for you to get inside his car and the warmth of your peach cobbler in your lap comforts some of the nerves you felt. By the time Gojo clicks his seatbelt into place in the driver seat, you realize you’ve never been in his car before, or driven anywhere by him before.

The interior smells of pine and something more familiar too, with sleek leather seats that are so comfortable they make you feel like you’re floating. You know it’s a Benz, you’re just not sure what year or model, and you’d usually ask most people out of a friendly curiosity, but for some reason your pride always got the best of you when it came to him.

“I seriously can’t wait to eat that thing you made,” Gojo comments after he’s backed out of the driveway, “it looks really nice.”

“Do you have a sweet tooth?” you ask him, glancing over at him, and you try not to stare at the strong one-handed grip he has on the steering wheel as he corrects it. 

“Oh yeah,” he answers, “big time.”

“You don’t seem like it,” you mindlessly say, turning your head to glance out into the dim street, passing by houses that idly sit in this neighborhood.

“Why’s that?” he asks.

“You seem to maintain a steady weight,” you politely comment.

You can hear the smile in his voice. “Is that the closest I’ll ever get to a compliment from you?”

You roll your eyes. “It’s just science. Hard to maintain a build if you eat a lot of sugar.”

He turns onto the mainroad, and you keep your gaze plastered to the outside. “I seem to manage.”

“It’s because you're tall. Tall people get to eat whatever they want.”

You see him nod his head once in your periphery, and you take it as some form of dismissal. “Sure.”

It doesn’t take terribly long to get to Gojo’s parents’ house, just a thirty-five minute drive without traffic. He kept surprisingly silent throughout most of it, and the few moments you did glance at his face, you could even say he looked like he was deep in thought. With a creased brow, a grip on the steering wheel that sometimes faltered, sometimes strengthened, but rarely fully eased. It was all so different from his usual impulse to talk. You know that you often wish for Gojo to shut the fuck up sometimes, but the silence seemed unsettling today.

His parents’ house is large, maybe twice the size of the homes in your neighborhood, but it’s tucked away in a slightly remote area, where the next closest house is about a quarter of a mile down the road. The driveway is long and runs downhill, so you stumble a little on the high heel of your shoe when you step down onto the pebbled pavement, but Gojo holds your elbow so you don’t fall onto your face. And also so you don’t drop the peach cobbler he so desperately wants to try. You’re not sure which of the two was the bigger priority for him.

As you two walk up the driveway towards the front entrance, you hear him sigh behind you. “Just so you know, my mom doesn’t really have any sense of boundaries.”

“Ah,” you comment, “nice to know where you get it from.”

He gives you an irritated look, seen in the corner of your eye, and it’s hard to fight the small amused smile that makes its way onto your face.

He sighs again as you two make it to the top of the steps. “Seriously, though. Chances of you wanting to leave me after this dinner are high.”

“Why? You’ve got a hot older brother I don’t know about or something?”

“I am the hot older brother,” he tells you.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, and then face him fully. “You’re not the first guy that’s warned me about his parents, okay? I’ll handle my own. What good is life if your in-laws–er, fake in-laws–aren’t at least a little strange?”

He lifts his finger to the doorbell, and just before pressing it, he says, “alright, then.”

It only takes twelve seconds for the door to swing open, the aroma of fresh herbs and something more sultry like vetiver arouse your senses, along with a warmth beckoning you from the inside of the home. 

Gojo’s mother stands at the doorway, surrounded by a halo of warm lighting, and her face instantly morphs into one of delightful glee.

“Oh! My dear, you’ve made it!” she exclaims happily, and just when you think she’s about to pull Gojo in for a hug, she pulls you in for one first instead, which startles you. “How lovely!”

“Oh—” you stutter, stumbling slightly as your nose becomes buried in the fluff of her silk pressed hair, but the delicate fragrance of lilac is somehow comforting.

She pulls you away to hold you by your shoulders. “You poor thing, you’re shivering! Come inside.” She hastily ushers you inside and you can feel the heat from Gojo’s body as he follows closely on your tail.

When his mother closes the door behind you, you find yourself surrounded by the kind of warmth only a house could provide. 

You take a small look around the foyer, noticing that it’s large with tones of deep wood and a bright white and golden chandelier that hangs daintily above in the cavity of the high ceilings. Leather, wood, velvet, silk, these are the textures that you see as you look around. It’s an old-fashioned taste, with a polished grand piano off to the right in the hall and display cases of vintage dolls and porcelain plates. So very different from modern, but it’s comforting. Like a wave of nostalgia, but from something you’ve never experienced before.

“What’s this?” Mrs. Gojo asks with curiosity lilting her voice as she walks up to you and points at the casserole dish you were holding.

“Oh, it’s peach cobbler,” you say, holding it up slightly with a small smile adorning your face, “for dessert.”

“How sweet! You’re an angel,” she coos, then twists her torso towards the kitchen, “honey! Come here, will you?”

Shuffling down the hallway from the heart of the house is, who you presume to be, Mr. Gojo. He’s tall, with his shoulders slightly curved forward as he approaches you all, and you note that he looks more aged than his missus.

“Ah, this must be my new daughter-in-law,” he says, his voice gruff and crackly from years of use. You smell the faintest hint of smoke from his clothing.

You glance at Gojo, who is watching you interact with his parents, an unreadable expression on his face as his hands remain shoved into the pocket of his suit pants.

Mr. Gojo takes the peach cobbler from you and gives you a curt smile before taking it back towards the kitchen.

“Darling, I must say, you have a lovely figure—” Gojo’s mother begins to say, reaching her hand out to hover it over the curve of your waist, but just at that moment, Gojo comes up to stand in between the two of you.

“Alright, what time’s dinner?” he asks.

Mrs. Gojo glances up at him, her face immediately twisting into a frown. “Nevermind that. I want to take y/n with me back to the kitchen to help braise the chicken,” she says, grabbing a hold of your wrist and tugging you towards her.

“Oh—” you stumble slightly.

“Nope,” you hear Gojo say from beside you, and suddenly there’s a strong arm wrapping around your waist as he pulls you back to his side, “she stays with me for the night.” You’d remember to blush at the feeling of being pressed flush up against him, but the shock overshadowed.

“Satoru!” Mrs. Gojo exclaims, rather loudly, and she lets out a hmph noise before placing her hands on her hips. “You’re no fun!”

“I’m not gonna let you indoctrinate her into whatever multi-level marketing scheme you’ve fallen victim to this month,” he says, his hold on your waist tightening.

“How petulant!” she says, trying to manage a stern look but Gojo doesn’t seem fazed by it, “quit acting like I’m going to corrupt her! I’m not some witch.”

“Your track record would prove otherwise,” he comments.

“Oh please, the only other time was when you brought—”

She suddenly stops speaking, her eyes going wide, and she glances at you. You cluelessly tilt your head at her.

Ah. The other woman. This mysterious ex-wife. Would you be the other woman in this case? Seeing as to how his entire family seems to walk on eggshells about the subject around you. And they all seem to think that any mention of her would devastate you, when really, you and Gojo aren’t even actually lovers.

But there’s a small part of you,

A teeny tiny part,

Revealed from the way your heart sank at the realization of who his mother was referring to,

That actually does feel some type of way about it.

You want to know who this woman was to him. Does he still think of her? Does he still love her? What happened between them? Was she the one that got away? And how does he feel about the fact that he’s now here with you?

You shake your head vigorously to get those thoughts out of your head.

It was like method acting. You stepped into the role of wife this evening, and now you feel the way that they expect you to feel at the mention of your husband’s ex-lover.

That must be the reason, right?

You slowly push yourself out of Gojo’s hold, and you try not to become hyper aware of his eyes on you as you smooth out the fabric of your dress, then you glance at his mother.

“I’d love to help you braise the chicken,” you say.

There’s a brief silence as you find your voice in this house, and then Mrs. Gojo flashes you a grin.

“Come with me, honey,” she says before wrapping a delicate hand around your wrist and pulling you towards the heart of the house.

There are pictures hung up on the walls as you brush past every hallway, along with peeling wallpaper that is peppered with florals and striped prints, sanded off from years of shoulders brushing against their surfaces in a way that creates an old, dated charm. You learn quickly that Gojo has always been pretty tall, judging from the photo of him standing with, whom you assume are his middle school friends, out on a boat, holding a bass the size of a small child. 

There’s photos of the four of them together, like one professionally taken photo where Gojo and Sana are knelt in front of their parents, and your gaze fixates on the strong grip Mr. Gojo has on his son’s shoulder, digging deep in the bone, creasing the fabric, almost desperately. Gojo looks young in the photo, maybe a recent high school graduate, and his smile is bright but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

And, God, the trophies. The trophies that adorned the surfaces of aged cedar wood dressers, seemingly random in the order they are sprawled across the display yet you know there was intention behind it too. Ballet, soccer, tennis, spelling bee, FRC, even dragon boat racing. 

“Feel free to take any of those home,” Mrs. Gojo says with a teasing tone, “you eventually get tired of staring at them.”

You wouldn’t know. Your mother never had much extra cash hanging around to take you to tennis lessons, or ballet lessons, or SAT prep, or whatever. You were lucky enough that you got into college with the cards you were dealt, but you sometimes wonder what your potential could’ve been if you had parents like Gojo did. Maybe the house you live in would be your own, and not something that your mother has spent the past forty years of her life trying to pay off. Maybe you’d have a freshly renovated kitchen and a pretty boat out on the street. But throwing a pity party for yourself right now wasn’t exactly going to get you through the evening.

Mrs. Gojo finally leads you into the kitchen, and the aroma of fresh herbs overwhelms your senses. 

“Smells wonderful,” you comment.

“I know,” she cheekily comments, “will you turn the meat please?”

You grab a pair of tongs and attempt to sear the cuts that were sizzling on the stove.

“Sooooo,” she coos, wasting no time to playfully bump her hip to yours, “how is married life?”

“Nice,” you respond, your cheeks warming slightly, “it’s nice.”

“It won’t always be that way, you know,” she muses with some underlying sense of sincerity that isn’t lost on you.

When you remain quiet, concentrating on the searing sizzling noises coming from the pan, she decides to keep speaking.

“Eventually, you two will settle in a little too much…start to care less about your bodies…and then, oh gosh, when kids come into the picture, forget about having any time for yourselves,” she continues, “some days you’ll resent him, others you’ll feel like it’s the first time all over again.” She sighs. “Marriage is a funny thing—”

“Mrs. Gojo,” you interrupt her, turning to face her, “I—…I really appreciate you, I do, but, um, I’ve already learned a lot already about marriage from my own parents. Things are fine between Satoru and me.” You look into her widened eyes. “And…if something does happen down the line, and we choose not to be together anymore, then that’s okay too.”

After all, you had to prepare her.

“But that’s the thing!” she chirps, “your generation is too—…too impatient. Unwilling to work anything out! A marriage is supposed to be hard, but also it’s something you aren’t supposed to give up on so easily.”

It’s your turn to meet her with widened eyes in response to her preaching, and her posture immediately deflates before she holds you gently by your arm.

“I’m sorry, honey…I know it’s too early to be saying all these things to you,” she says, managing a small smile, “I always forget that I’m too old to be doting on my children like this anymore.”

Your expression softens and you wrap your palm over her bony knuckles, feeling the thinness of the skin that stretches over them. In a brief glimpse, you see your own mother in Mrs. Gojo’s eyes, something familiar, a universal expression of the love a parent has for their child.

“Well…” you say after clearing your throat, “for what it’s worth, you have nothing to worry about, Mrs. Gojo.” You try to manage a small smile. “I’m—…I’m really happy with your son.”

It was hard to lie to someone like this, especially from the way there’s relief that floods her irises, a genuine feeling that is so hard to come by in these days of false niceties. You often wonder how far a single white lie can stretch before it shatters against its own resistance.

“That’s a relief,” she says, managing her own prim smile, “I’m so glad.”

The two of you finish up in the kitchen, and when you circle around back into the hall, you see Sana standing in the warmly lit family room with Gojo and their dad.

Sana catches your eye, and you purse your lips together hesitantly before walking up to her.

“Hey,” you say softly and she returns the small smile you give her.

“Hi,” she says back to you.

“Um, where’s Juno?” you ask, looking around.

“Oh, she has a sleepover at her friend’s house tonight,” Sana says, “Jun’s dropping her off, and then he’ll come by here later.”

“Ah, I see,” you comment, itching at your elbow from the awkwardness.

“Well,” Mr. Gojo says, gesturing towards the dining room, “let’s eat, shall we?”

The three of you nod at him.

It’s fascinating to watch how the family falls naturally into their chairs, an assigned seating pattern that stays consistent among all dining halls and rooms and tables in the world, one that every family has. Mr. Gojo sits at the head of the table, his wife to his left, his son to his right. Sana sits quaintly to her mother’s left, and you sit across from her to Gojo’s left. The one empty seat is left for the presence of Jun.

“Food looks wonderful, darling,” Mr. Gojo says before leaning over to place a kiss on her bashful cheek.

Your heart does something weird at the sight. A simultaneous twinge paired with a warmer feeling that follows. You hardly witnessed any affection within your household growing up, not between your parents at least, probably because you were young when they got divorced and so the turmoils and tribulations started long before you had any higher order of cognitive discernment beyond the childish interest in Disney princesses and The Backyardigans. For you, the only memories that last of your parents’ marriage are those that feel like nothing more than the frigidity of a business arrangement. Ironically similar to the one you were currently in with Gojo. Except at least yours hadn’t been initially built on a foundation of love and a promise to be there for one another until death did you two apart.

Death was knocking on your mother’s doorstep now. But your father was nowhere to be found. So much for a vow.

Mr. Gojo pours his son a glass of whiskey, single malt as read on the label. Mrs. Gojo pours you and Sana a glass of red wine, and you try to hide the grimace, because you would’ve much rather had the whiskey.

“To y/n,” Mr. Gojo says, raising his glass up into the air, “for being our newest addition to the family.”

You all clink your glasses together, then in a variety of pairings, the last one being the tap of Gojo’s glass against yours, before you all take a drink.

“So…” Mrs. Gojo speaks up, “exactly how long have the two of you been married?”

You glance at Gojo for help, which isn’t exactly an unsuspecting thing to do.

“Four weeks,” he says.

You watch Mrs. Gojo’s eyes twitch. You can understand. Her own son gets married and doesn’t tell her anything about it for four weeks after the wedding. Well, in your case, a courthouse arrangement.

“Where did you two go for your honeymoon?” she asks, and Mr. Gojo clears his throat.

You look at Gojo for help again, and mentally pinch yourself for not being more discreet about how fake this whole thing is.

But Gojo surprisingly looks at ease. “Greece,” he says, and leaves it at that.

Mrs. Gojo’s body language turns to you, clearly irritated by her son’s short and curt answers. “Did you have a fun time, dear?”

“Oh! Yes, it was a very fun time. Definitely did all the newly wed stuff. Just as normal newlyweds do, you know. Because we are newlyweds,” you say through an awkward cough.

“Like…?” Mrs. Gojo pushes, and you can tell that she’s asking out of a genuine curiosity over the itinerary you two had allegedly carried out, but you crack under the pressure.

“W—…We made love,” you say, “we made lots and lots of love.”

The sound of silverware clanking onto ceramic plates startles you out of the blissful ignorance you had to the words that you had just said. Like you were so caught up in your mind about wanting to seem like an actual real life couple to his parents that you almost forgot about the number one social rule when meeting your (fake) significant other’s parents: no references to copulation. 

You glance up to find Mrs. Gojo’s eyes are wide, a slight tinge of pink to her cheeks. The width of Mr. Gojo’s eyes match his wife’s except his expression is also duly accompanied by a furrowed, perplexed brow. Sana looks visibly uncomfortable, shifting in her seat and trying hard to put on a poker face as she pretends like she didn’t just hear what you said.

You finally glance at Gojo, who’s looking at you with the most what the fuck? face you’ve ever seen someone make, and there’s concern on there somewhere too, like he’s not even fully convinced that you’re mentally sane at the moment because why on God’s green Earth would you say something like that at a family dinner table.

Trying your best to laugh it off, you say, “ah…ahaha, d-did I say make love? I meant–I meant that we–”

“Just–” Gojo interrupts you. “Just stop.”

Everyone are still stunned silent and the flush to your cheeks grows warmer. While clearing your throat, you set your lap napkin up on the table and clumsily scootch yourself out of your chair.

“Ex…cuse…me...” you mumble under your breath, knocking the table with your knee on accident, your wine glass almost toppling all over the pretty linen tablecloth but your reflexes catch the stem to steady it. “I need to…use the restroom.” And then you head straight down the hallway without sparing them another glance.

“Use the upstairs one!” Mrs. Gojo calls out to you, “the guest bathroom is under renovation.”

“Of fucking course it is,” you mutter under your breath, but flash them a polite smile before rounding the staircase pillar and then briskly walking up the stairs.

You quickly realize there’s more personality to the house upstairs, with some clutter in the theater loft and mismatching decorations that don’t reveal the careful deliberation of an indoor designer. The master bedroom is directly to the right of the top of the staircase and you glance across the loft at a narrow hallway that leads into the three bedrooms tucked away into the heart of the house.

One foot after the other, you float in that direction as if some force were compelling you towards it. Some trance of curiosity that no human being could ever resist. It’s fine. You didn’t actually need to piss anyways.

The first bedroom you walk past is rather boring, with beige tones all around. Beige bed sheets, beige wall paint, beige lamp shade, beige curtains. But the air smells crisp, and you notice there’s a shelf that has about half a dozen plants lined up in a variety of artistic pots. Similar to the set-up Gojo has in his house at home. You walk inside and brush your fingers across the dresser surface, rubbing fine dust over the pads of your fingers, and with your next inhale, you sneeze.

A guest bedroom, you think to yourself.

The next bedroom you walk past is sweeter, kinder, warmer. There’s pink hues scattered across, the most obvious one being the pillow covers, and there are some shades of a baby blue as well. But the furniture looks modern, sleek, and new. There were two identities at war in the room, like that of a little girl and a grown woman. Neither able to find its voice among the chaos of friendship bracelets sprawled across the desk and the Louis Vuitton purse resting at the foot of the bed. 

Sana’s room, you think to yourself. 

Childhood bedrooms are like time capsules if left untouched for very long. You’ve lived in your room at home for as long as you can remember, only recently having shifted to the master bedroom. The room grew up with you. It had no chance to become some entity of its own. 

The next bedroom you walk by feels familiar, even before you walk inside. There’s a comforting feeling that envelopes just from the lighting alone. You push the door open with a gentle palm.

The culprit of any young man’s room–navy blue sheets. Stretched taut against a made-up bed that has some sort of feminine flair to it, like it wasn’t set by Gojo, but rather his mother passing by his room one day to sit in his absence, only to needlessly mess with the sheets because it gave her a sense of purpose. You go eighteen years pouring blood, sweat, and tears into raising a child, protecting them, nurturing them, being the one they lean on for all of life’s woes, only for them to pack up and leave one day. You suppose that if you were a parent, you would find melancholy in that loss of responsibility too. 

His desk is a large expanse of cedar wood with a desktop monitor and some bookshelf speakers set up on it. The PC itself has collected dust over the years but there’s a small mechanical whirring noise you hear somewhere within. The rest of the desk is mostly empty except for some unopened mail tucked away with some books, the spines creased at the last few hundred pages, but never to the end. 

You pick one of the books up, flipping the pages open, and see sticky notes on some of them. Like English literature notes one would take in class, with studious words that over exaggerate the significance of the prose just to make a teacher happy. Who cares if the curtains were blue? Maybe the author just wanted them to be blue. Why does everything in life have to have meaning?

Setting the book back down with a sigh, you walk over to the bookshelf. There are some more trophies, some sets of comic books, some strange robotic-looking figurines. Small picture frames of foreign scenery are set up in different corners wherever there is empty space, like an afterthought. 

“Hmm…” you hum to yourself, tilting your head to the side to read the vertical spine of a thick black book that was tucked flush up against the shelf's side. 

West Valley High School. Class of 2007.

With your index finger hooking the spine, you slowly pull the book out from its comfy corner. It’s heavy in your hands and you notice that there are ink smudges across the tips of your fingers.

When you open the cover, you’re met with a page filled with a variety of colors and handwriting, and you realize they’re signatures. And to no one’s surprise, most of them are feminine. With hearts, some merely outlines, some shaded in with ink, scattered across the page. Bubbly handwriting, neat handwriting, cursive handwriting, a lot of it in pinks and purples and reds. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think it was like those Valentine’s Day cards all the girls would sign in grade school to pass onto their crush, except imagine if all of them were intended for just one guy.

You roll your eyes as you flip the pages, seeing no end in sight to the signed ink. I mean, come on, how many signature pages does a yearbook even need? This was excessive. And, no, you aren’t bitter simply because your high school yearbook has maybe a max of fifteen signatures (four of which were from your teachers). It’s just frustrating. And confusing. Why does everyone on this planet adore Gojo except you? Is there something wrong with you? Are you the problem?

There are some signatures from boys too, most likely his friends. Otherwise, you’re not sure what random fleeting classmate you’ve only spoken to a couple times would be brazen enough to draw pictures of penises squirting in whatever empty space they could find in your yearbook, if not for his high school friends. These boys are probably in their mid thirties now, just as Gojo is, maybe with wives and kids they’re now responsible for. You wonder if they’d still find the drawings funny all the same today.

You flip the pages more, taking in image after image after image of smiling portraits. ABC…DE…F…ah, G. Hmm, there. There it was. 

Gojo Satoru.

Seems like his high school didn’t allow yearbook quotes, but you try to imagine what his would be. Probably something corny and lame, like See kids? I told you I was sexy in high school.

He looks cute though. With his hair fluffy, boyishly ruffled to pair with a charming smile that’s at ease. He just looks a little younger, that’s all. Not that much different. Perhaps a bit more scrawny, a bit more mischievous-looking. As opposed to his adult self, who appears sturdy. More serious. But you realize that cheeky part of him that comes out every now and then when he’s teasing you or pissing you off is that boy within him that looks exactly like the portrait in this yearbook that you trace with the pad of your finger. 

You close the book, suddenly a little out of breath, and then slip it back into place. Your eyes catch the shimmer of the trophy at the top of the shelf. It was shaped like a baseball glove mitt, and in the palm cup, there is an actual baseball in there with a black ink signature. You gently pick it up and turn it in your palm to try and read the ink.

Ichiro.

Your dad used to watch baseball. You’re familiar. Seattle Mariners, Ichiro Suzuki. The first Japanese player to ever make it to the Major Leagues. Ten time all-star, and tenth member of the Mariners hall of fame. He retired when you were just a little girl, but you still remember the look of awe in your father’s eyes as he stared at the box TV in the living room of your house when Ichiro took his last stand at the plate.

Gojo was also a boy at that time. Living in this house. Maybe his old man was watching that game at the same time. And maybe Gojo was watching the look on his father’s face, too. It’s the romance of life–you look up at the moon in the sky, and you know that there is someone else out there, someone that you’ll meet some day, maybe even someone that will mean the world to you someday, who’s looking at it too. But you just don’t know it yet.

Lost in endless, rather fruitless thought, you continue to turn the baseball in your hand to pointlessly assess the seams, but it slips out of your hand and onto the carpeted floor with a loud hollow thud that startles you, and when you attempt to bend down and pick it up, you accidentally push it with your toe and it rolls underneath the bed.

“Shit,” you mumble, getting down onto your hands and knees to look underneath the bed.

You see the ball rolled a few feet away, and when you reach for it, it becomes clear that you don’t have the arm span to grab it. You struggle and you struggle, the tips of your fingers barely tickling its seam, and the frustration makes you sweat a little.

“Come…here…you…stupid…thing,” you mutter. You’re sure your hair is a static mess now, too. 

You finally manage to roll it towards you a couple inches and then your palm wraps around it before pulling it to your shoulder, but not without something collateral that’s dragged along with it.

A photograph. Printed out, vintage. You pinch the corner between your two fingers and stand back up onto your two feet in order to better assess the image under the light of the floor lamp.

The first person you notice in the photo is Gojo. He looks younger than in the yearbook, but he’s wearing a suit and a tie. It’s a little big on him, ill-fitting as most teenage boys should look in a suit, like a rite of passage. His smile is less warm than the one in the yearbook too, more prim and stretched into a thin line that’s only slightly curved upwards. It’s only then when you notice the slender fingers sprawled across his chest near the collar of his undershirt, black nail polish blending in with the fabric of the suit. Your eyes trail the dainty hand, and your heart skips a beat when you see a girl standing next to him, pressed up against him, her smile much brighter than his. Pink braces line her teeth and her hair is that classic mid-2000s side-swept bang mess, but she’s pretty. Dressed in a pink-ish purple gown that almost looks like a bridesmaids dress, and you finally see the banner stretched across behind the both of them in the picture that reads Homecoming 2005. 

It’s hard to explain it, but you can just feel it somehow. That this person is important to him. Not just some last-minute date to Homecoming, or an old high school girlfriend he’s long since lost touch with. It seems larger than that, somehow. Unlike penises drawn on yearbook paper, this feels like something a person never outgrows.

Of course, people have lived fully-fledged lives before you’ve met them. Just as you have as well. But you’re overtaken by the insane curiosity to want to learn every single detail about this past life that Gojo has lived. Where did he and his friends hang out after school? When did he learn how to drive? When was the first time he got shit-faced drunk? When was the first time he snuck out of the house? And who was this girl in the picture? 

“Find what you’re lookin’ for yet?” a voice calls out, entirely startling you to where you almost jolt out of your skin, and you swiftly turn on your heel towards the entrance of the room. 

You see Gojo standing in the door frame, leaning against it with his arms crossed as he levels his gaze at you. He has a blank expression on his face, although you would say it’s more serious than playful. 

“What–...I–” you stutter, shuffling the picture you were holding behind your back so he doesn’t see. 

His eyes don’t flit to the movement. “You don’t have to tear the room apart to find my illicit drugs. You could’ve just asked.”

 You roll your eyes. “As if you would do drugs.”

“You say that like it’s an insult.”

“It is.”

“So, then, if you’re not looking for drugs, what are you looking for?”

Your cheeks are warm. “I don’t know. Petty cash? Human body parts? Playboy?”

He snorts. “Playboy? Who still has a subscription to Playboy?”

“Maybe your teenage self did.”

“I’m not that old,” he says, “I was watching porn like the rest of my peers.”

“Ew, you freak,” you say, and you grab one of his pillows and throw it at him.

He lets out a laugh before catching the pillow with ease, and then walks up to you, placing the pillow on top of your head. You half-glare, half-pout at him.

“C’mon,” he probes, “tell me why you’re hiding away up here.”

“I embarrassed myself,” you confide in him with a sulk of your shoulders. “I mean. Seriously. What the fuck was that? What a humiliating thing to say in front of your parents. I just feel so weird pretending like this.”

His expression softens. “Sorry,” he says, “for dragging you into this dinner.”

“No,” you sigh, “I’m the one that did. I forgot you can’t necessarily fake a marriage without…doing the typical couple things.”

“Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm,” he hums as his gaze flits towards the bed, “doing the typical couple things, you say?”

You roll your eyes. “In your dreams.”

“Oh, in my dreams alright,” he says with a grin.

“And if I strangled you? What then?”

“I like that. It’s kinky.”

“And I’m supposed to believe you don’t have magazines lying around?”

“Brown box underneath the bed. You didn’t look hard enough.”

You give him a disgusted look. He laughs.

“I’m joking,” he says, pushing his hands into his pockets.

“I’m not convinced,” you say, turning your body away from him slightly to keep the photo hidden behind your back.

He tilts his head at you, gaze flickering down to your other hand. Your heart skips a beat. “I could’ve guessed that.” 

His hand reaches out and you flinch ever so slightly, something he thankfully doesn’t notice, and then he’s grabbing the baseball out of your palm.

“I always thought I could sell this thing for major money,” he muses, throwing the ball up into the air to catch it. And then doing so again a couple times.

“It’s authentic?” you ask with genuine curiosity.

“Oh yeah. I caught it. First ball game my old man ever took me to, and it happened to be Ichiro’s last.”

Your eyes widen. Gojo was at that game. He wasn’t just watching it from home on some TV like you did with your dad. He was living in it.

“Wow,” you say, “must’ve been quite the game.”

“Don’t really remember too much about it to be honest, other than how stoked I was to just be there with my dad.”

“Mm,” you hum, “I’ll have to ask Mr. Gojo more about it when we get downstairs.”

His expression falters slightly, his smile dropping in the most subtle way that you wouldn’t have even noticed if you hadn’t been intently staring at his face. 

“Yeah,” he says, “maybe.”

Gojo continues to stare at the ball in his palm as he rotates it in inspection. There’s an awkward silence that settles between the two of you, and you feel the burden of conversation has suddenly fallen on you. 

“My, um. My dad was a fan too,” you say.

His eyes glance up to meet yours. “How come I’ve never met him?”

The question catches you off guard. “Wh–...I’m sorry, what?”

“Your dad,” he says, as if it was something so casual. 

“That–...well, he’s–...I don’t know, I haven’t seen him in years,” you admit, “not since…not since my mother was diagnosed with cancer.”

He stares at you earnestly, studying your expression, before he decides on saying nothing else except, “I’m sorry about that.”

You sigh. “Satoru, I–” you start, keen on the way his body stiffens slightly when you say his name, “I really don’t have the capacity for much else tonight. I mean, the questions. And the lies. And walking on eggshells around your mom.” 

“Well. I was sent up here to get you,” he says, “and I can’t exactly go downstairs empty handed.”

“Fine. Let’s just get this dinner over with as fast as possible.”

“Sure,” he easily agrees, “I’m with you on that one.”

You take a step forward to head towards the door, but then suck in a sharp gasp when you remember what was being held behind your back.

“Wait,” you say, “look away.”

“...huh?” he huffs, a puzzled look on his face.

“Just look away for a second.”

His eyebrows furrow before he lifts one in a questioning manner. But he acquiesces and turns on his heel to face away from you. “Have I ever told you how strange you are?”

“No,” you say while discretely crouching down, playing along in an attempt to distract him, “you haven’t.” You flinch a little from the sound of your hip popping, but he doesn’t seem to notice and so you bend your wrist in preparation of flinging the photo back to the abyss underneath his bed.

But you stop.

And you take one more glance at the photo.

And your stomach flips the same way it did the first time you saw it.

If you asked, would he tell you?

But the more pressing question is,

Why are you so scared to find out?

You shake your head vigorously to get rid of all your pestering intrusive thoughts. It was the stress, you played it off. A hyperactive mind leads to hyperactive ruminations. And besides, it’s just silly. Sure, there’s your gut feeling that suggests otherwise. But this girl in the photo could really just be an old friend or girlfriend that had no significant impact on the trajectory of his life. Why be the crazy one and lose sleep over this? You’ve lost sleep over plenty of other things in your life, but not stuff like this. It’s just not like you.

You fling the photo across underneath the bed and then stand up just in time for when Gojo turns around to look at you out of curiosity.

“Alright,” you say, dusting your hands off, “let’s go.”

You walk over to where he stands by the doorframe, a slight warmth to your cheeks when he doesn’t move out of your way like he usually does, but instead he leans towards you slightly as you brush past him, and your heart jumps a beat in your chest when you feel his hand gently fall to the small of your back, softly urging you forward ahead of him. A feather of a touch, yet intentional, almost naturally so, like a curious test of the boundary between you two that he’s been dying to understand a bit better. And the fact you don’t turn on your heel to face him with that same undeserved and petty rage that you always do, and instead slightly shudder at the feel of his touch, means that somewhere along the way, you’ve moved the line a little closer.

He’s hot on your trail as you walk down the stairs slowly and when you turn around the post at the bottom then make your way back to the dining room, you see his family staring at you with wide eyes.

His mother stands up. “y/n! Come sit back down, dear.”

You nod meekly, and Gojo pulls your chair out for you to take a seat before he resumes his seat next to you.

The food is slightly cold by the time you finally get to pick at it. It’s not very seasoned, either. Not enough salt for your taste. But somehow Mrs. Gojo having a phobia of sodium is a study of character that makes perfect sense in your head.

Eventually, the awkward silence is too much for you to bear, and you set your fork and knife down on your napkin with a slight bit more force than you probably should’ve.

Everyone looks at you.

You sigh. “I’m sorry for earlier,” you say, “I’m…uh, I’m just not really used to these sorts of dinners…I don’t have much family here in this town, and it’s always just sort of been my mom and me. And I—…I guess I’m just a little nervous.”

Wide eyes blink at you. Mr. Gojo shifts a little uncomfortably in his seat while Mrs. Gojo blinks her long lashes at you. Sana tilts her head, and you have no interest in seeing what Gojo’s expression looks like. You fear it’s the one you’d remember the most.

You were just being honest with how you felt. And it doesn’t take you long to realize something you probably should’ve realized earlier walking into a home like this where everything was perfect and on display with no evidence of the way a true family can crumble on the inside—a house like this does not value honesty. Your mother couldn’t afford you many luxuries in life, but you never felt like you couldn’t be honest in front of her. 

You glimpse up at Sana, and there is some knowing expression on her face. It’s almost sympathetic. As if you two were on the same page about something right now. When you glance at Gojo, you see him staring down at his plate with his brow slightly furrowed.

“It…it’s quite alright, dear,” his mother says through a prim voice, and in an attempt to change the subject, she says, “I do hope you are enjoying the chicken.”

“Ah,” you exhale, “yes. I am.”

“So!” Mrs. Gojo chimes in again as she dabs her mouth to a linen napkin. “Tell me about what you do for fun.”

You blink at her. “Oh, umm…binge watch TV? Occasionally I’ll go for a walk.”

“Ahh interesting! What about reading? Do you enjoy reading?”

“Well, the last book I purchased was a picture book about North Korean missiles…so.”

She lets out a laugh. “And where do you see yourself in five years?”

You hear Gojo sigh beside you before he reluctantly sets down his silverware and then he turns to Mrs. Gojo. “Mom. C’mon. This isn’t a job interview. Just let her eat.”

There’s a slight tinge of pink to the tips of her ears from the interrogation interruption as she glances between the two of you. She looks over at Sana for help but finds nothing other than a gaze tipped down towards a plate full of picked-at food. Mr. Gojo folds a hand over her frail knuckles as if to silently communicate, but Mrs. Gojo retreats her hands to fold in her lap underneath the table.

Feeling somewhat bad for the two of them, you turn the face Gojo’s dad. “Um…Mr. Gojo, Satoru was telling me about how you were a big baseball fan and a big Ichiro fan…do you still keep up with the Mariners?”

The man’s eyes grow wide with a visible confusion and you swear you hear Gojo clear his throat beside you.

“Ah…that’s–” he starts before the sound of the doorbell ringing startles you.

Sana immediately stands up without a word of excusal or a glance in anyone’s direction and she heads straight for the door.

You all look around at one another before Mrs. Gojo says, “must be Jun.”

You were at least glad to find you would not be the only “in-law” at the table full of a tension-laced family dinner, especially given the fact that in most of the cases where you’ve met Jun, his penchant to talk overshadows any other energy.

“What’s up, y/n!” Jun shouts when he waltzes into the dining hall, a few steps ahead of Sana. He throws his jacket over the first surface he finds, body language matching that of someone twenty years younger than he actually is. You can’t tell if it’s overcompensation for something, or if he just genuinely believes he’s still in his twenties. 

To your surprise, he opens his arms out for you to greet him with a hug, and you hesitate before standing up slightly to give him a well-meaning wrap of your arms around him, but it lacks any warmth of familiarity.

“Welcome to the fam!” he jovially exclaims before patting your arm. He then hugs Mr. Gojo, then Mrs. Gojo (paired with those cheek kisses that the French do in greeting), then daps up Gojo (to which you notice Gojo is less than enthusiastic about) before he finally kisses Sana on the cheek and then takes his seat at the other end of the table. Your eyes are keen on Sana now, watching her intently, but she remains staring at the food on her plate. You had a feeling there was someone in this room that didn’t want to be at this dinner even more than you did.

“How was traffic, Jun?” Mr. Gojo asks.

“Oh it was nothing. Took a shortcut. Backroute off of Lake City Way. Full of pot holes though.”

Sana turns to him and scowls. “While you were taking Juno to her sleepover?!”

He lifts an eyebrow at her. “Yeah? We were running late.”

“How many times do I have to tell you not to take that route to get into the city! Those pot holes are so dangerous.”

“Honey. Chill. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Just last week I saw news of three plot holes on the Mercer Street intersection opened up. Three people were injured, including a young boy.”

“Okay well if I also believed everything I saw on the news was going to personally happen to me too then we’d have never gotten this far in life.”

“Jun,” Sana deadpans.

“W-Why don’t I fix you a plate, Jun? You must be tired.” Mrs. Gojo chimes in. 

Sana breathes in deep and exhales slowly before slumping down into her chair. 

“Thanks,” Jun says, easing his brow as he sits back in his chair nonchalantly, before he turns to Gojo and starts to talk about mundane things like the stock market, the recent election, something about a new bowling record, and this one Thai restaurant he really wants to try on the other end of town, all within the span of time it takes Mrs. Gojo to set a plate down in front of him.

Mr. Gojo jumps in on conversation from time to time. Mrs. Gojo listens idly, sometimes placing a laugh where she feels appropriate. Jun gets particularly animated about this incident he ran into earlier last week when he was dropping Juno off at school, a story that you notice everyone at the table is for some reason entirely intrigued by, but you suppose it’s the most interesting topic of conversation you’ve all had tonight thus far. At certain critical points of the story, Sana jumps in with a that’s not what happened, Jun and you find yourself finally settling in somewhat to the evening.

Just as Jun’s story is ending, you glance up to Mrs. Gojo and find that she’s staring at you with a smile on her face. It makes you jump in your seat a little, luckily unnoticed by the rest of the table because of Jun’s engaging theatrical hand gestures as he attempts to keep his wife, his brother-in-law and his father-in-law engaged. You would’ve expected Mrs. Gojo to avert her gaze the second yours locked with hers, but she doesn’t. She just continues to look at you with a soft smile on her face and a slight tilt to her head, like she’s getting used to the sight of seeing you at this table.

Her gaze flits downwards slightly and you follow her line of gaze, tracing it to the ring that was adorning your left hand. 

Your eyes widen slightly.

“Oh–” you stutter, the words already getting caught in your throat, “I–...I forgot to say, it’s an honor to wear your ring, Mrs. Gojo.” The table suddenly goes quiet, and you can’t tell if it’s because of you, or if it’s because there was no more story left to tell. “It’s beautiful.”

It truly felt like for every two steps you took forward, it was ten steps backwards. Because you watch the way that soft smile of hers entirely drops, her expression replaced with one of confusion, brows knitted together as she looks at you like you’ve just spoken in a language no one on Earth can speak. 

She glances at Gojo, and you don’t have to look at him  to tell that he’s stiff in his seat. You could’ve felt the tension from a mile away. 

Mrs. Gojo looks at you again. “Oh honey, that–” She glances between you and Gojo. “That’s not my ring…”

Your eyes widen, cheeks already flush from whatever’s to come.

But suddenly, and to your surprise, Sana speaks up. “It was our mother’s ring.”

You look at her with confusion. And then you glance at Gojo. And then you glance back at Sana. And then at Mr. & Mrs. Gojo.

“But…” you trail off.

“Sumiko and Daichi are our aunt and uncle,” Sana says with a strained voice, “our real parents died in a house fire when we were younger.”

You blink at her in shock.

“He didn’t tell you?” Mr. Gojo asks.

“I–” You glance at Gojo and see that he’s poking his tongue to the inside of his cheek as he stares down at the glass of scotch he was twirling around in his hand.

“Of course he didn’t,” Sana interrupts, the bitterness in her voice matching the attitude she’s since displayed this entire evening. Her gaze is locked onto her brother’s face, and when his gaze flickers up to meet her eye contact, his expression is set with a tense jaw. “He never wants to mention them. He never wants to acknowledge their life. He never wants to honor them. He just wants to pretend like they never existed.”

“Sana,” he cuts her off, and a chill gets sent down your spine from the seriousness and rigidity in his voice. “Now’s not the time for this.”

“When is the fucking time?!” she spats at him, the simmering tension brewing over. Ah. Yes. The moment you had been expecting. After all, what family does not have its baggage? Sana abruptly stands up from the table, startling everyone with the clanking of silverware and ceramic from the motion. “When is the fucking time for you to admit that you never gave a shit about mom and dad dying? When is the fucking time for you to admit that we moved on to live with these people so fast? When is the fucking time for you to admit how wrong it was for you to force me to call the people here my mom and dad my whole life when they aren’t?” Her voice cracks near the end.

You glance at Mr. & Mrs. Gojo, who both look shocked, hurt, even embarrassed as they gaze down at their food. Your heart stalls in your chest for them.

When you glance back at Gojo, you see that his gaze is hardened even further now. “You’re being rude,” he says, in as steady of a voice as he can manage from the way his brow is creased with disappointment. 

“Yeah, whatever,” Sana says as she wipes at the tears with her sleeves, and you notice that she looks young like this. Younger than the usual prim and proper self that she portrays. Too young to be a mom, too young to be a wife, too young to be an adult. Like someone propelled into a life that she never wanted. “That’s always what you say, isn’t it? No answers, you just claim that I’m being childish and rude.” Jun tries to reach out to hold her hand but she snatches it away from him. Under her breath she says, “I didn’t want to come here. I should’ve just stayed home.” And with a rough swipe of her sleeve across both of her cheeks, she suddenly storms off somewhere deep into the house. Jun immediately stands up to follow her, leaving the four of you here with stale, cold food.

The timer in the oven goes off, the sound heard in the distance like a lifeline, and Mrs. Gojo immediately stands up. “Ah, must be…the roasted potatoes. I’ll be right back,” she fusses, and you avert your gaze from her face so she doesn’t feel embarrassed over the streak of a tear you saw streaming down her face.

“Let me help you,” Mr. Gojo says in a small sheepish mumble before following his wife into the kitchen.

And then there were two.

You only have a moment to process the dramatic outburst and subsequent fall-through before you turn in your chair to face Gojo, your face narrowing in contempt. You see him running a hand through his hair, entirely ruffling out any sort of neatness he had combed it into earlier, and he undoes the top button of his shirt with an impatient thumb like he was letting go of whatever image he had been trying to keep up for tonight, because after what just happened, there was no use. 

“So when were you going to tell me that they aren’t actually your real parents???” you hiss at him.

He sighs and runs a hand down his face. “They’ve raised us since Sana was just three years old. I didn’t think it mattered.” 

“Okay well if I had known then I wouldn’t have mentioned the ring??? Now everyone’s left the table because of me.”

“It’s not because of you,” he quickly corrects you, “it’s because of years of unnecessary drama of which I’ve still got no fucking clue why it still gets brough up at every. family. dinner. If you didn’t bring it up, then they would’ve figured out a way to bring it up somehow anyways.”

You blink at him, a little taken aback by how dejected he was by this entire conversation.

“Are you going to go check on Sana?” you ask him.

“No,” he says without hesitation, “she’ll calm down soon enough.”

You press your lips into a thin line, contemplating his dismissal, before you let out a huff of disappointment and disapproval. You pull your napkin off of your lap, setting it up on the table, and slip out of your chair to head into the house in the direction you saw Sana storm off into, leaving Gojo to himself at the table.

As you walk down the hallway, all those pictures you saw hung up on the walls, those photos of illusion that painted this pretty picture of a nuclear family fall apart in the narrow space, those firm smiles and hesitant postures making much more sense to you now. They aren’t even his real parents. Baseball and wedding rings. Those details belonged to a life he never intended on sharing with you. 

You walk past the kitchen, stopping briefly just beyond the entrance before backtracking and you find Sana standing near the sink with her arm across her chest as her other hand wipes at her cheeks. The soft sound of a sniffle echoes in the room and you’re surprised to see that Jun left her alone.

Tentatively, you shuffle your feet across the wooden floor. She seems to make note of you in her periphery but refuses to glance up. 

“Hey…” you start when you finally make it to the space in front of her, your hip leaning against the edge of the sink counter in parallel with hers as you face her.

“I—” she starts, shuffling her palms across her cheeks again. “I am so severely embarrassed.”

Your eyes widen slightly at the honesty. “Don’t be. It’s just family.”

“No but that’s the point,” she says through a crack in her voice, “I’m thirty-one, I’m married, I’m a mom, but they’ll always just see me as some immature little brat because I always behave like this.”

You don’t know what to say. You suppose if you were a therapist, or a priest, or a mentor, or a mom yourself, or any other person with an emotional IQ higher than yourself, you would know the right thing to say to her right now. But you don’t. So silence is all that you can offer her, and you hope that it’s enough.

It seems to work in it’s own magical way, as she slowly opens herself up to you within the next passing sixty seconds. A fleeting glance up to your face. The halt of pointless fidgeting with the fabric of her sleeve. The way she stands up straighter, her hip no longer leaning against the kitchen counter, and you find that you mirror the same movement.

She clears her throat, rubbing her nose with the knuckle of her index finger, her eyes no longer glistening with tears but the corners of them look puffy.

You glance down at your feet for a moment before inhaling deep and making eye contact with her. “Hey, listen…” you say, “I’m—…I’m really sorry…about earlier today. For overstepping about the bullying. Juno’s your daughter, and I really shouldn’t have given her advice before at least running it by you beforehand. Especially for something so sensitive.”

The delicate muscles of her brow lift in surprise at your words, lids fluttering slowly as she processes your words, and the wave of melancholy is contagious as it washes through you as well.

“I’m sorry too,” she says, “for how angry I got with you. It’s just—” she hesitates, and you see that semblance of her that you’re more familiar with. Strict, stern, rough around the edges but for a noble reason. “Y’know, with kids…we tend to get overprotective over them.” Her gaze drops to somewhere beneath yourselves as if she suddenly lost confidence in her train of thought. “I’m just trying to do the right thing for her.”

A silence settles between the two of you before you realize you ought to respond to her.

“I get it,” you finally say. “I mean—…I don’t. Because I’m not a mom. But…I’m sure that when I am one some day, I’d understand.”

She finally offers you a smile in return to your words, polite but genuine nonetheless. And a soft remnant sniffle makes her ruffle her nose.

Her expression softens, and she stares straight ahead to your collarbone rather than your eyes. “She really likes you, you know?” Sana glances up at you now. “Hasn’t stopped talking about your ‘blubbery’ pancakes since last week.”

“Aww.”

There’s a sad glint in her eyes when she turns her torso away from you slightly in resignation before some hint of optimism flashes by in her face and she turns to you again.

“Do you…think you could give me the recipe?”

You want to ask her if everything is okay. But instead, you say, “sure.”

The sound of footsteps approaching is heard near the kitchen entrance and the two of you glance in that direction to see Jun walking in. He offers you a fleeting glance before taking his place beside Sana, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling him towards her before placing a kiss on her temple and saying, “hey honey.” 

You watch as she averts her gaze down to the tips of her toes.

“Feeling better?” he asks her but there’s this lack of warmth you cannot quite discern.

“Yes,” she responds, scratching at her cheek as a discreet way of getting rid of the last remaining wetness that had streamed down her face earlier.

He rubs her arm soothingly and then looks at you with a smile pressed into a firm line. “Doing alright?”

You blink at him. “Wh—…yes.”

“Say, y/n, how’s your mom doing by the way?” he asks.

“She’s…better. She’s in hospice now.”

“Palliative?”

“Well—” you say, “I guess. It’s just temporary.”

He shuffles inside the pocket of his coat and takes out something. A small card with finely printed black ink on it. He hands it to you.

“I can’t imagine how expensive that all must be,” he says, and you glance down at the card.

Carevest Capital est. 2024

Invest in a healthier you!

You glance up at Jun. Sana’s gaze has now shifted to the inside of the sink.

“I started this business,” he says, “where we’re revolutionizing the way healthcare costs are managed. In our platform, we basically invest our clients’ money into the stock market, leveraging our high-reward algorithm to maximize returns. But here’s the unique part: we partner with leading healthcare CEOs who match a portion of the profits as an incentive for stock purchases. Together, these funds go directly toward paying off hospital bills and easing related financial burdens.”

Your eyes widen at his words. The speech was practiced, one you can only assume he has pitched to many potential clientele. But there’s a hint of personable grace to it as well.

“I’m telling you, y/n, we’ve had clients who have overcome six figures of medical debt in just six months,” he says, “and you’ll only need a couple thousand dollars to start yourself up.”

You purse your lips together, your finger pinching the corner of the card. “That’s amazing, Jun.”

He smiles at you, releasing Sana’s waist. “Sorry if this kinda came out of nowhere, but I heard through the grapevine that things have been rough.”

Oh, like how your card has declined publicly at the grocery store multiple times, or how you haven’t been able to afford your insurance deductible to get that chipped off part of your bumper fixed, or the fact you haven’t paid your landscapers in over three months so your lawn now looks like a swamp? It was a small town. And people’s finances were always a topic of interest for most.

“I just wanted to offer any help I can,” Jun says.

“Thanks,” you say, returning his smile, “I’ll, um, I’ll look into it.” You push the card into your pocket.

He offers you that same firm smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes before he pulls Sana to him again, placing another kiss along her hairline and the PDA seems like overcompensation on some front from the way Sana is entirely frigid to his touch. 

Maybe it was a woman’s intuition,

But you felt like something was wrong.

“Kids,” you hear Mr. Gojo’s crackly voice say as he stands leaning against the doorframe near the kitchen entrance, “let’s finish dinner?”

The three of you exchange glances before nodding and heading back towards the hall.

Your peach cobbler was apparently very good, the only thing that seemed to cut through the tension of the night. But that was the thing with family, right? You can yell and scream and cry and lecture and mope and roll your eyes at each other all you want but at the end of the day, they’re still family. Sana still seems slightly dejected though, and you can see Gojo in the corner of your eye at the table glancing up at her every other minute or so. His own way of making sure she’s doing okay, you think to yourself. Sana refuses to meet anyone’s line of sight except yours, however, which makes you feel some slight burdensome responsibility of sisterhood you had never signed up for. Nonetheless, you try to offer her a soothing smile whenever she looks up at you, and it seems to put her at ease.

The news of Sana and Jun moving seemed slightly anticlimactic, as Mrs. Gojo mentioned that they had already had an inkling that Jun and Sana would be moving closer to the city. You briefly wonder if Mrs. Gojo knew all along, but decided to make the announcement into some big affair just so that she could see her niece and nephew over a meal.

You make no more embarrassing comments. Conversation dulls into anything and everything unpersonal to you all, such as the news and weather and gossip of other people. And somewhere along the night, you relax your knee, the ball of it pressing into Gojo’s thigh underneath the table. It was wordless, innocent contact that occurs when two people become more comfortable with one another. Only excusable due to the slight buzz you felt in your veins from the wine. He’s kissed you before, yet somehow the press of his thigh against yours feels even more searing. There’s a point along the night where you tip your head to the right slightly, daringly close to resting your head on his shoulder due to the tipsy dizziness weighing in your head, and it would certainly put on a convincing show of newlywed affection for his aunt and uncle, but you manage to catch yourself. And subsequently refuse any more glasses of wine.

“Thanks for having me,” you say to Mrs. Gojo at the front entrance before she pulls you in for a hug.

“Oh, anytime dear,” she says as she gently pats your back, “please.”

When she pulls away from the hug, she holds you by your shoulders before her eyes glance down towards your left hand and the shimmering diamond that sat on the ring finger. She holds your hand in hers and lifts it to examine the twinkle underneath the lights of the chandelier.

“It really is a pretty ring,” she says, her eyes glossing over. “It looked beautiful on my sister, and it looks beautiful on you too.”

Your breath hitches slightly in your throat. “Thank you, Mrs. Gojo.”

“Please,” she says in response to the title, “Sumiko is fine.” But in less of a way in which she’s relaxing formalities, but rather in a way that acknowledges she never had the sovereignty to be called that in the first place.

You hear masculine voices approaching down the hallway as the three men make their way towards the front entrance as well. Gojo glances at you in the midst of their conversation, and he leaves the two of them to make his way over to you.

“Alright,” Gojo says, turning to face the rest of them as he stands beside you. “We’ll head out now.”

Sumiko pulls him in for a hug, then his uncle, and then obnoxiously by Jun as well. Sana fidgets with her fingers as she remains at the end of the line, and you catch a glimpse of surprise on her face when Gojo pulls her in for a hug too. You see him whisper something to her, and it’s only after she hears what he said that she returns the hug and wraps her arms around him as well.

You’re jolted out of your people-watching trance when Gojo walks up to you and takes your hand in his, shoving his other in his pocket. You glance down at the sight, the way his large hand engulfs your own. It’s warm in a firm hold, delicately squeezing your hand once right before you feel the cold air behind you when his uncle opens the door.

Well, you survived. That’s what you think to yourself as you sit in the passenger seat of Gojo’s car, watching the city lights twinkle as you two drive by. You don’t know what you were expecting. Drama? Ease? Tension? For a piece of the sky to fall and land on the roof? There was a part of you that wanted to impress. You want to be one of those daughter-in-laws that the in-laws just adore. You know, where they’re like, god am I so happy that she’s a part of the family now! The one that the mother-in-law is just so ecstatic to know that her son managed to hold down such a catch.

But any expectations and pressure dissolve with the reminder that this is all fake. Fake, fake, fake. And you’d do really well to remind yourself of that reality whenever you spent time with Gojo. Whenever you find yourself acclimating into his life for even a moment, just remember that it’s fake. Can you have a little fun here and there? Sure. Will you probably find yourself in even stranger situations going forward? Yes, because, well, that’s how life is. But it’s just fake. No obligations, no responsibility, nothing. Nada. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

But as you walk through the front door, staring straight ahead into the dark house at Gojo’s back as he sets down the keys by the foyer table, and even as you follow him further into the house towards the kitchen, that feeling inside you surges. 

A woman's intuition.

That something between Jun and Sana was wrong.

Not just routine marital issues,

Or the occasional argument,

Something worse. Something dangerous.

And it’s not something you would ever expect a man to pick up on, even Gojo.

Because it was from the way Sana’s eyes silently communicated with you from across the table,

Something so subtle, a silent plea across a shared dimension,

That she needed help.

“Hey…” you speak up softly, standing in front of the fridge. 

Gojo glances over his shoulder at you from the other side of the kitchen island, barely illuminated by the moonlight through the windows. He turns to face you. “What’s up?”

You blink at him. 

“Um, I really don’t want to overstep again, but—”

There’s a sobering thought that flashes through your mind when you recall that you have never seen yourself as the hero in anyone’s story.

Simply because you could never, ever, ever trust yourself.

You could never trust your feelings or your decisions.

Because you cosigned on hundreds of thousands of dollars of medical loans. Because you stuck around for five years with a man that didn’t love you anymore. Because you still feel naive enough to believe that your best friend who betrayed you still misses you somehow. Because you still foolishly believe your mother will be around to hold her grandchildren someday.

Because you thought that your best bet in order to pull yourself out of hell was to fake marry a man,

And then act as if it’s all real when his aunt looks you in the eye with bittersweet tears as you now wear her bereaved sister’s ring in honor, entirely unaware it was actually being worn in vain.

How could you ever trust your judgement when you behave this way? 

Never the hero. If anything, the villain.

“What is it?” Gojo repeats when he sees that you’ve been silent for too long. He tilts his head at you, his hair falling over his forehead haphazardly and he runs a hand through it to try to get it out of his face. Even in the dim light, his eyes shine a breathtaking blue.

You swallow hard.

“Um,” you say, and then glance down at the wetness you find at your heel. “The, um, the fridge is leaking again.”

He blinks at you for a solid ten seconds, and then the tension in his shoulders drops when he sulks and closes his eyes with exhaustion and defeat.

“Fuck. Okay.”

.

.

.

[end of chapter 6]

a/n. looool i really keep thinking i can post shorter chapters and them bam they be 10k+ words. but i swearrr it's just cuz i be yapping :(( anywho hope you enjoyed this chapter!! a lot of characters were kinda introduced and mm given a bit more depth in this chapter. sorry there wasn't as much romance or anything in this one though haha there will be more in the next one :0 big big thank you to my lovely ihm beta readers ayelin, jules, leni & mirl for helping me out w this chapter!! i believe i may have mentioned this before but i STRUGGLLEEEE with multi-character scenes (i'm much more comfy writing scenes that just have back n forth between two characters) so this chapter was challenginggg esp the whole dinner sequences and there were also a lot of complicated feelings at play, descriptions, stuff i wasn't sure if it was coming off the right way (and tbh am still not sure haha) but they really helped me work my thoughts out n gave wonderful suggestions too so tysm :'') much loveee!! hope to see you all in the next one <3 - ellie

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[ladamedusoif]

Coming Home (Dave York x F!Wife Reader)

A Merry Fic-Mas - December 20

Part of A Merry Fic-Mas: A Pedro Boys Holiday Fic Calendar - click for masterlist!

Follow my writing blog @ladameecrit and turn on notifications to keep up with my writing.

Pairing: Dave York x F!Wife Reader

Word Count: 2000

Rating: Explicit (18+ MDNI)

Warnings: No use of Y/N; no physical description of the reader; reader is Dave’s wife; loose canon (implied changing to end of Equalizer 2, justice 4 Dave); soft!Dave; oral sex (M and F receiving); facesitting; unprotected PiV sex; mild breeding kink; reader is on birth control (not discussed); dirty talk

A/N: Despite having been in the Pit for some time, this is my first Dave story and, well… things escalated. I’m a sucker for soft!Dave (go read @wildemaven’s gorgeous Holi-Dave stories!!) and for the idea that this man just fucking loves his wife/partner. In this story you can choose to read the wife as Carol, or a second wife - whatever you prefer.

He makes his way through baggage claim quickly, expertly dodging the crowds of people clustered around the carousels looking for their luggage. The airport is decorated for the holidays, but Dave pays no attention to the illuminated Christmas trees atop each baggage belt, nor to the animatronic Santa Claus and elves greeting passengers in the arrivals hall.

Experience has taught him that a carry-on is preferable in most circumstances. Travel light, travel smart, and save valuable time at each end. He takes a strange pride in knowing that he’s back at his car before most of the people on his flight have even begun to identify their bags.

Dave is tired: physically, mentally, emotionally. He has started to wonder how much longer he can do this for: the time apart, the unspoken agreement not to discuss the other side of his work at home, the fact that - while you know the broad contours of what he does beyond the DIA, and probably more details than he’d like - he has to be incredibly careful with what he says, to avoid the possibility of you becoming an accomplice in the eyes of the law.

He starts the car, swings by the drive-thru just on the way out of the airport campus to pick up a coffee and some donuts, and then - finally - gets on the road.

Dave York needs to go home. He needs you.

***

It’s still very early when he pulls into the driveway, the sky as yet untouched by the brightness of the coming day. Dave lets himself in and drops his bag in the hallway, taking off his shoes and treading carefully as he makes his way upstairs, lest he wake the girls.

He gingerly opens the door of your bedroom and tiptoes inside. You are still asleep, your back to the door, nestled into the pillows and duvet. Soft, warm, and safe.

You have always been his safe place, his comfort. He longs for your softness, your warmth, the way he feels like nothing and no one on earth could ever touch him when he’s buried inside you.

Still fully clothed, he climbs into bed beside you and wraps an arm around you from behind, kissing your neck, your shoulders, and the skin of your upper back, exposed by your slip nightdress.

It doesn’t take long before you’re woken by Dave’s mouth seeking out every inch of your upper body. You turn to face him.

“Hi, my love. You’re home. Aren’t you early?”

Dave caresses your waist and hips, dark eyes looking at you with pure longing. “Only by a day. I just wanted to come home as soon as I could.” He leans down and sucks on your neck, making you writhe and whine with pleasure. “I wanted to come home to you.”

You hum with satisfaction and begin to unbutton his shirt, fingers working their way down towards the waistband of his pants. “That so?”

Your husband kisses you deeply, greedily, hard as you undress him, his tongue seeking entrance to your mouth and exploring it like it’s the first time.

He kicks off his dress pants and shucks off his shirt and under vest. You take in the sight of him, wearing only his black boxer briefs: his impossibly broad shoulders, his soft but solid tummy, the strength of his arms and his thighs, his beautiful face.

Your Dave.

The wetness is already starting to pool between your legs.

You straddle him, feeling his hard cock brush against your pussy as you hitch up your chemise. Dave reaches for you, hands gripping your thighs.

“Let me welcome you home properly, Mr York.”

His eyes widen as you peel off your nightdress and fling it into a corner of the room, leaving you completely bare and astride him. You lean forward, trailing your mouth down his chest and tummy. Dave pants and moans with pleasure, hips bucking a little and creating delicious friction against your clit as you work your way down his body.

You palm his cock, still inside his boxers, before carefully tugging them down. His dick springs free: hard, thick, heavy. Perfect.

Dave looks down at you and quirks an eyebrow. “You got plans, Mrs York?”

“Mmmm.” Your tongue flits across your lips, as if you’re admiring a delicious meal. “I got plans. But they’re gonna have to be quiet, Mr York, unless you want two little girls interrupting them.”

Dave chuckles and lowers his voice. And then he feels you. Tongue licking a stripe up the length of his cock, before playfully lapping at the base. The wet plumpness of your lips around the head, gently sucking on his erect cock and swirling your tongue and taking him inch by inch into your mouth as you hollow your cheeks.

“Fuck…fuck. You’re fucking incredible, baby.”

You smile to yourself at his praise. “I like giving my husband head, what can I say?”

Dave lets out a half-chuckle, half-groan as you work his dick with your hand, tipping him closer to the edge. It’s too soon. Too quick. He doesn’t want to come in your mouth, one way or another.

He motions with his head and you release his cock with a parting stroke.

“I need to taste you, baby,” he murmurs, already looking somewhat wrecked. “Get up here. Sit on my face, will you?”

You feel a little uncertain. It’s been a while since you’ve done this - sitting on his face, that is. Dave loves eating your pussy. But this… this is less frequent.

“Are you sure, baby?”

He looks at you in disbelief. “Never been more sure of anything. And do not say anything about your body or your weight. You’re fucking perfect. I need you, need to take you.”

Dave’s eyes are dark with lust, but not without that certain softness only you and the girls ever really see. Your heart swells at the sight and you shift forward to straddle your husband’s face, Dave carefully holding you in position and urging you down so that he can really taste and smell your sex.

“There’s only one condition,” Dave murmurs.

“Oh?”

“You’re going to have to be really quiet for me, too.”

Easier said than done when you have those lips and that tongue taking you apart with enthusiastic precision. Dave grunts and moans softly into your cunt as his mouth forms a tight seal around your folds, tongue flicking across your clit over and over as you grip the headboard with one hand and hold the other firmly across your mouth to stifle your cries.

He breaks away for a moment to slide a couple of fingers inside you before resuming his work, tongue pressing deliciously on your clit while his thick fingers fuck you, finding the sensitive spot he knows will trigger your release.

“C’mon, baby,” he groans, voice muffled between your soft thighs. “You’re so fuckin’ close.”

He can feel your pussy fluttering and tightening around his fingers, feel the wetness running onto his hand as he gets you off. You’re teetering on the edge - and come hard, all over his mouth and nose, screaming his name into the palm of your hand.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” Dave purrs as you catch your breath, sitting up to caress and kiss your breasts as he moves you over and off him, onto your back. He grabs handfuls of you as his mouth roams all over your naked body, hips rutting against you and hard cock pressed against your mound. “I missed you. Missed your taste.”

“You going to fuck me, David?” Your voice is hushed, breathless, ragged: still boneless and taken apart, needing him to put you back together.

Dave’s dark eyes sparkle as he reaches down and spreads your legs wide. He gazes at your soaked pussy, puffy and ready for him, and smiles at the sheer mess he’s already made of you.

“I’m going to fuck you hard, babe. You tell me if it’s too much, okay? Just fucking want you. Fucking need you.”

You whine with arousal, affirm his instructions, and he shifts forward, one hand stroking his cock. He parts your folds with the other as he lines himself up to take you for the umpteenth time. Even so, the stretch of him as he enters you always makes you catch your breath a little.

Dave’s broad body hovers over yours as he bottoms out with a hiss, desperately trying not to make too much noise. “Jesus. You…fuck.”

You wrap your arms around his broad back and focus for a moment on the feeling of your husband stretching you, filling you, having you. “What is it, baby?” Your voice is a sultry whisper and it goes straight to Dave’s cock.

He’s barely holding it together. “Your…fuck, your p-pussy.”

“It’s all yours, baby. Feel how tight and wet I am for you - you fuckin’ love that, don’t you?”

“Gonna fuck you now,” Dave whines, unable to hold on any more. He starts slowly but the warm, delicious wetness of your cunt begs him to speed up, to build up to a more intense rhythm.

You forget yourself and whine, prompting him to bring his hand to your mouth. It only serves to stimulate you further as your back arches off the mattress.

“Want to hear you talk to me, babe,” Dave whispers, hips snapping as he fucks you harder and faster. “Quietly. But talk to me. Tell me.”

He loves dirty talk. You’re only too happy to oblige.

“Been missing this dick, baby. Missed you taking me like this - filling me up and fucking me so well.”

Dave’s expression and ragged breathing makes you sceptical he’ll last as long as he usually does. “Fuck. You touch yourself while I was away?”

You bite your lip to hold back a moan. “Yeah, I did,” you whisper, “Made myself come thinking about you, thinking about what you do to me. Thinking about your big cock, stretching me like this.”

He buries himself against your chest to disguise his cry as he fucks you like a man possessed. Your bedroom is taken over by the quiet soundscape of lovemaking: skin on skin, ragged breathing and muffled whines, creaking bed frame, and the lewd sound of your wetness.

“Been thinking the whole time about coming in you,” Dave mutters quietly as he pulls out briefly, turns you into your side, lifts up your leg, and thrusts back into you with ease. “Fucked my fist thinking about it, wishing I was filling you.”

He holds your belly with one hand and grabs your tit with another, bringing his mouth against your neck and shoulder and biting the delicate skin there as you whine into a pillow.

“Come in me, Dave. Fucking fill me up.”

He grunts in your ear as he drops a hand to your clit and traces tight circles over the swollen bud, holding you tight to him as you cry out. “Want to fill you until it takes,” Dave hisses, his rhythm starting to stutter and fall apart as he nears his release. “Fuck you over and over and over, give you another baby.”

You press your face into the mattress as you scream his name, coming undone on his cock.

“You want me to make you a mama again, babe?”

That does it. You come so hard it feels like you might pass out, and the throbbing of your pussy is enough to tip your husband over the edge, too. Dave comes with a moan that’s muffled by the soft skin of your upper back as he cries out your name and fills you with his spend.

***

The sun is up as you tiptoe back to bed from your en-suite bathroom, discarding your light silk robe as you nestle, naked, back into bed beside your beloved.

Dave pulls you close, humming contentedly as you rest your head on his warm chest and idly rub his soft tummy.

“Thank you for coming home early,” you murmur, eyes closing.

He holds you close and kisses your forehead. “I needed to come home,” he whispers. “Needed to get back to you. You’re my home, baby.”

[calif0rnia-lovers]

#1: the proposal | plan b.

pairing: angel reyes x black!reader | chapter rating: 💙

total # of parts in series: 10

join my gc for updates since tags are acting weird

I keep falling for boys and mistaking them for men

series sum: After several failed relationships, you decide that you’re over waiting for Mr. Right to come around and help start a family. In a drunken ramble, you ask your best friend if he’ll be your donor. You didn’t expect him to say yes. As you and Angel enter uncharted waters, you both realize neither of you fully thought the initial proposal through.

words: 1.8 K

What is it they say…hope breeds eternal misery.

Or, as Angel Reyes likes to say, “I don’t know why you’re wasting time on that asshole.”

Asshole is the nicest term you can dub your boyfriend--correction, your ex-boyfriend.

Ex-boyfriend.

It’s strange how quickly two letters--a simple prefix--can change your life.

One minute, you’re joining your boyfriend and his family on a getaway to the beach. The next, you’re being kindly escorted out of a restaurant for tossing a drink in his face.

When you’d left Santo Padre Friday afternoon, you had a single thought in your mind. He’s finally going to propose. The nervous behavior, the talks about moving to a bigger apartment, him inviting you to a weekend getaway with his family.

How else would a rational person explain this behavior?

Well, according to Michael, all of those things do not add up to a proposal. They add up to “softening the blow."

As you sit on the curb waiting for your uber, with Michael's big splurge of the evening in hand--a bottle of Cabernet, you realize his explanation was complete bullshit. How is dragging you to Santa Monica for the weekend "softening the blow?" If he was going to break up with you, he could have done it in Santo Padre.

As you double-check the ETA on your uber, you remember.

Michael didn't drag you to Santa Monica to break up with you. He dragged you to Santa Monica to ask you to "take a break."

Apparently, there's a difference.

As Michael put it, with his birthday fast approaching, he'd had an epiphany. He needed time to "get out there" and "explore" his options.

"We're in our thirties," he'd explained. "We only have a few years left before we're expected to settle down, have kids. I think we should take this time to get everything out of our system, so by the time we come back together, we're ready to start that family you're always talking about."

The nervousness you'd seen the past two weeks? Had nothing to do with hiding a ring, or trying to find the perfect opportunity to pop the question. The nervousness was Michael trying to find the right time to ask you not to renew the lease of the apartment, you share, at the end of the month.

The talk about upgrading to a bigger apartment? Had nothing to do with having an extra room for the kid you've both talked about having. It was so that he could move in with his two best friends.

Michael’s epiphany left you in shock. You were caught between realizing the entire revelation wasn’t a complete joke and realizing you were expected to ride home with his family in the morning. The drink tossing didn’t come until Michael rubbed his hands together, a knowing smile sliding onto his face.

Taking your shocked silence as a lack of protest to his idea, Michael nodded over his shoulder. “You wanna head back up to the room...have some fun our last night together?”

The weight of Samantha--wait. No. Savanna...Sabrina? No, Salena.

The weight of Salena’s body presses Angel into the mattress. Her body is nearly directly on top of his, her face nuzzled into the warmth of his neck.

He’s not used to women sleeping over. Angel has one rule. He wants to sleep alone. Translation, be gone when he wakes in the morning.

That’s why, when he wakes to the sound of a slamming door, Angel is pissed.

His initial thought is that Salena let the door slam on her way out. The only problem is, Salena is still in bed with him--sleeping soundly. If she wasn’t, he would have been up able to react quicker. Because if it’s not Salena leaving, it means that someone is coming in.

“You need to go,” Angel mumbles as he manages to escape her grip.

Salena responds by rolling over and ignoring his request.

When he leaves his bedroom, Angel finds his entire house in darkness. His hand runs down his face as your voice fills the air.

"Ow--shit!" Your keys and purse fall to the floor as you bump into the coffee table.

"Y/N, what are you doing?"

“What are you doing?” You counter the slurring of your speech causing Angel’s head to shake. “...standing in the dark like a fucking creep.”

“Are you drunk?”

Your head shakes. Even if half-asleep, Angel knows you’re not drunk. You’re hammered, at least by your standards. He’s known you long enough to realize you’re a lightweight. A two and a half-hour ride with a bottle of Cabernet meant you were well past your limit.

“And why are you back early--did you drive here?”

“No,” you scoff. “I took an uber obviously--”

A second trip into the coffee table silences the rest of your response.

“Alright, come on--” Angel takes your hand in his, preventing you from falling forward.

“I don’t need your help.” Yanking your hand free of his grip--with more force than necessary--you stumble backward. Between the late hour and his body still attempting to shake off its grogginess, the action is too fast for Angel to predict. “Or any man’s help for that matter...fucking men--always thinking they need to save me--”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you--and fucking...fucking Michael--that piece of shit...” Despite your previous attempt to escape him, you turn on your heels causing Angel to bump into you. Instinctively, his hands find your waist. An innocent attempt to help maintain your balance. “--I said I don’t need help walking, Angel--”

“Clearly.” The smirk on his lips narrows your eyes.

The pathetic attempt of a shove you apply to his chest is enough to tip your already unsteady balance.

In his defense, Angel isn’t used to “rescuing” you from a drunk faceplant. Usually, the roles are reversed.

It may not be the smartest move, but it’s the quickest way to prevent another one of your escape attempts. Angel tightens his grip on your waist, pulling a small yelp from your lips as he lifts you off the ground throwing you over his shoulder.

The sudden shift in your posture blurs your vision--sending the room spinning. The rush of blood to your head causes your palm to come down hard in frustration against Angel’s back.

“Put me down…” Angel’s head shakes as your slurred speech trails off for a moment. Seizing the break in your resistance, he carries you across the darkened room towards the security of the sofa. “...what the hell are you doing in my house anyway?”

“This is my house.” Angel huffs as he lowers you onto the sofa. “If you get up, I’m not stopping you. I'm serious, I'll let you bust your ass this time.”

But moving from the sofa has already left your mind. Instead, your focus has drifted. Scanning the living room as Angel disappears. Despite his words, you're still not sure why you've ended up at his house and not yours.

“Here drink this,” Angel sighs as he returns. He hopes the glass of water will miraculously sober you up. Between failing to kick Salena out, and you showing up drunk at 3 in the morning, Angel is considering giving up women. At least for a few hours.

Angel’s steps come to a slow halt as he rounds the sofa to find you gone. Somehow, in the time it took him to fill a glass with water, you have slid down to the floor. Your back against the sofa, you’ve given up the impossible task of unfastening your heels. Instead, you’re tugging at them. Groans of frustration fill the air once the heels remain in place.

The shaky breaths and trembling of your fingers widen Angel’s eyes.

“Shit--are you crying?”

“I’m not crying.” The shaking of your head only seems to push the tears out faster. The blurring of your vision makes the task at hand impossible. “I’m not crying.”

“My bad, you’re not crying,” Angel repeats, hopeful it’ll make the crying stop. Handling a crying woman is not his strongest suit. In fact, he tries to avoid crying women at all costs. He focuses on the easier task of removing your heels. He offers you an encouraging smile once he’s done. “See, you’re all good.”

“No, I’m not.” Reaching forward, you grab the nearest heel, launching it as hard as you can. “Michael got me these.”

You manage to grab the second heel before Angel can. You launch it in the same direction as the first.

“I’ve always hated those ugly fucking shoes.”

The second heel doesn’t land in the middle of the floor like its predecessor. Instead, it flies straight into Salena’s arm as she rounds the corner.

“Ow--what the fuck? Angel!”

The overhead light cuts on, temporarily blinding both you and Angel. When you open your eyes, you find a half-dressed Salena standing over you. Your discarded heel in her left hand, her narrowed eyes focused on you.

"So, this is why you wanted me to leave? Your girlfriend is home?"

"Neither of us is his girlfriend, sweetheart." you correct.

“I’m not sleeping in your bed ever again,” you clarify, your voice muffled against your palms. “Not until you wash your sheets.”

In the time it took to get Salena out of the house you’ve found that your body has begun to crash. The idea of laying down the only thought of your mind. That’s why the moment he’s settled alongside you on the floor, Angel’s shoulder becomes your pillow.

“Please don’t say I told you so.”

Passing up the opportunity to be right, is not in Angel’s nature. But one look at you, he’s biting his tongue.

“I never liked him.”

“You've never liked anyone I’ve dated,” you laugh quietly.

“That’s because you only date assholes.”

“Takes one to know one.”

“Exactly.”

Angel's arm drapes around you, the gentle squeeze he gives bringing a weak smile to your lips.

“That’s it,” you sigh. “I’m done dating. Forever.”

“Dating is overrated,” Angel notes.

It’s a phrase Angel has told you nearly a million times over the years. Typically, after you’ve watched him ensnare yet another naive woman with his smile. You typically roll your eyes at Angel's mantra, but right now, you don’t even bother.

“I’m serious, if you see me even blinking at the same guy twice grab me.”

“Yeah, okay,” Angel chuckles.

He knows there's no point in taking the promise any further. If Angel is a cynic when it comes to dating, you’re the poster child for hopeless romantics.

When you fall in love, you fall hard. When you get heartbroken, the fallout hits the hardest.

“I can’t wait until my forties to have a kid.”

“What?”

“I’ll be in my sixties when they graduate high school--my sixties!”

“That’s what this is about?”

“...he doesn’t want kids...at least not right now...he wants time to explore other options before being shackled to me forever.”

“I’m going to kick his fucking ass.”

“When you do, can I watch?”

“Fuck that, you’re getting in a few hits.”

“I can’t believe I wasted three years on him, thinking he was going to help me start a family,” you groan. “When I could’ve just asked you.”

Angel laughs, his smile growing as you giggle.

“I’m serious. Definitely would’ve happened faster.”

“If you want to have sex with me, there are much easier ways--”

“Shut up, it is not about sex,” you assure him as your eyes drift shut. “I actually pride myself in being one of the few women in this town you haven’t slept with. Being immune to your charm is a superpower.”

“You still ended up here tonight,” Angel grins.

You softly smile.

“That’s because you’re my best friend, and you always give the best hugs when I feel like shit.”

series taglist: @youlovetkay @mochachocolatteyaya @chaneajoyyy @sesamepancakes

angel + all mayans tags: @turn-thy-paige @finalgirlhales @jadesid @poetically-0riginal @diaryofkali @babaohhhriley @katastrophic04 @partypoison00 @rose-bliss @mayansxlover @joannasteez @headrushxreeta @brwnlikefoxy @nemesis729 @destiny-tsukino @inyourbackpocketisbutterflies @straightestgay-voice

all stories: @rosieposie0624 @amberritonicole @agoldin @est1887@toni9 @chaneajoyyy @relaxing-najee @awkwardtayler @siempremamita @seize-the-droid @glimmerglittergirl @cutiebubbleboo @pearlkitten33 @tian-monique @megapeacelovemusic-blog @sincerelykas @brattyfics @ladyofsoa@browneyes912 @beiroviski @sadeyesgf @mrsmarvelous1995 @everyhowlmarksthedead @ourlittlesecretsoveragain @demonquartz @appropriate-writers-name @ughdontbeboring @cocotheclown @thesandbeneathmytoes @queenbeered @starrynite7114 @wiccanmetallicrose @tomhardydallasstarsgirl

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

no grave can hold my body down – 2/2

Character: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Summary: It took time to get Jason Todd away from the darkness. Sometimes it felt like he was always standing at a tipping point, at risk of completely losing himself. But not when he was with her. She made him better and she would continue to make him better.

Word Count: 9,000

A/N: I know there are a lot of contradicting opinions on Jason Todd’s height. But for my own wish fulfillment, he is 6′3/6′4ish in this fic. 

Part 1

Y/N had fallen asleep after getting home from work. She had a long day and was so exhausted that she passed out as soon as she sat down on the couch. Jason had to take off her heels and drape a blanket over her.

Now he was dressed in his armored undershirt, cargo pants, leather jacket, and tactical boots. His red helmet was tucked under his arm, but he was already wearing a domino mask. If Bruce had taught him anything, it was to be prepared to a point of paranoia.

He crouched down to his knees.

Ever so gently, he brushed Y/N’s cheek.

“Y/N,” he whispered.

She stirred and winced a bit when she opened her eyes, the glare of the quiet television was suddenly harsh.

“What’s going on?” She asked, still half asleep.

“Nothing. Go back to sleep. I just wanted to tell you I’m leaving to go on patrol.”

“Mhmm. OK.” She hummed. “Be careful, J.”

If Y/N ever found out how un-careful the Red Hood was, she would never sleep and she’d probably beg Jason to quit his vigilantism.

“I love you,” he told her before kissing her on the forehead.

“Love you, too,” she said back so dreamily that it sounded like she was talking in her sleep.

Jason slipped out of the window. He purposely chose this apartment due to the direction the windows faced, the distance from approximate apartments, and the darkness that would prevent any wandering eyes from the neighbors.

He’d been patrolling for a few hours. It was oddly a quiet night. He assumed it had to do with how cold it was outside. Sometimes criminals were weak in the most obvious ways.

Jason was standing on a rooftop, taking a breather when he felt someone drop behind him. He knew his family all too well and could differentiate all of their footsteps. Which was why he didn’t immediately shoot Dick when he thought he’d try and surprise him.

“So, Y/N was quite the hit…” Dick said without giving Jason a proper greeting first.

“What are you still doing in town?” Jason answered.

Dick sighed. “B still needs a little help on the case.”

Jason nodded, not actually caring why Dick was still in Gotham. 

Then an awkward silence washed over them. Well, Dick thought it was awkward. Jason couldn’t care less. 

“Why won’t you talk about her with us?” Dick’s teasing was gone and his tone serious now.

Jason turned his head away from the city view and finally acknowledged his brother. “You don’t need to know anything about her,” his helmet distorted his words to make them sound even harsher than they already were.

“Doesn’t seem like she completely shares that view.”

Jason didn’t respond. He didn’t appreciate Dick speaking on Y/N’s behalf.

“Bruce seems to like her,” Dick added.

Jason’s head snapped to him. “As if I give a fuck,” he snapped.

Dick had the audacity to laugh. “How did the two of you meet anyway? She was living in New York City when the two of you first met, right?”

“Jesus,” Jason growled. “Did all of you run a background check on her?”

Dick shrugged. “What did you expect?”

————

Y/N didn’t have any idea where she was going. With the sun having already set, she couldn’t even figure out what direction she was headed.

But she had typed the address to her hotel into the Uber app and trusted it from there. She was also too preoccupied still answering the dozens of work emails on her phone.

“Hey lady, we’re here,” the driver said rudely after she didn’t realize they had stopped.

“Oh, sorry!” She said, writing the last few words of a sentence before pressing send.

She jumped out of the car and yelled a thanks before slamming the door shut.

To her surprise, the car raced off without a second’s hesitation.

But when Y/N turned around, she realized she was definitely not in the right place. And for the first time throughout the drive, she realized she was definitely in a bad area.

Y/N heard all of the terrible things about Gotham. Sometimes she wondered if the things about all of the crime were exaggerated by the news or if the city was really rotting from the inside like everyone said. What she definitely didn’t believe in was all the vigilantes that seemed to be protecting the city. No one could ever offer up any proof, even with every single human having a video camera in their hands at all times.

But now she wishing she’d taken people’s warnings a little bit more seriously.

This was definitely not Gotham Heights, where her nice hotel was located.

“Fuck,” she muttered as she whipped out her phone and instantly tried to call another Uber. But the app was being finicky and she was getting a loading screen for far too long.

Then she heard a group of men whistle at her. The streets were filled with literal dumpster fires. There were countless inoperable cars with broken windshields and without wheels. The only women she spotted looked like they were working the streets.

‘Walk, Y/N. Just walk. Act like you know where you’re going.’ Her brain was screaming at her.

So she did while remaining on high alert.

No matter how much she pretended to blend in, she was obviously out of place and sticking out like a sore thumb.

Her heart was racing and she tried to walk as fast as she could without fully running. She just hoped to get to a main street soon and try to catch a yellow cab, since apparently all her car-service apps decided not to work.

But suddenly, a man stepped onto the sidewalk, blocking Y/N’s path forward.

“You lost, sweetheart?” He cooed.

Y/N stopped and started backing away. But when she turned around, she saw that two men were waiting behind her.

“No need to be scared,” the same men said behind her, closer this time. “We just want to talk.”

‘Fuck this,’ Y/N thought before she decided to make a run for it.

But one of them grabbed her and shoved her to the side, pushing her into the alleyway she hadn’t realized they were right next to.

It was so dark that she could hardly make out the silhouettes of her attackers. But that wasn’t going to stop her from fighting. She immediately tried to shove past anyone in her vicinity and hit whoever was grabbing her.

“Get the fuck away from me!” She screamed, hoping that there was someone in this poisoned city that would try and help her.

Except she was outnumbered by three men, which ended in her getting shoved up the brick wall that lined the alley.

“I don’t have any money,” she gasped as a last ditch effort to save herself.

“Who said we wanted your money?” One of them chuckled darkly.

Before their words could hearten Y/N to try another defensive attack and escape, there was a strange zipping sound that echoed down into the alley.

Next thing Y/N knew, the man that was pressed up against her and pinning her to wall was flung off.

Y/N gasped and tried to get her eyes to adjust to the darkness enough so she could actually see what the hell was happening.

“It’s the hood!” One of the men yelled to his friends before making a run for it.

Then a gun was fired off – two shots.

Y/N yelped at the noise and covered her ears.

But when she looked back up, the man who had tried to escape was now on the ground, screaming in pain as he looked down at both of his knee caps that had been shot.

When Y/N turned her attention to the other two men, she finally saw who had interrupted their assault.

It was a man – if that was even what he was – dressed in military gear of some sort. But what really caught her attention was the red helmet that was reflecting the night light and allowing her to actually follow what was happening.

Y/N watched as he punched the daylights out of one of her attackers. She saw the man’s face get more and more covered with blood with each punch.

If Y/N was scared before, she was now terrified.

Without hesitating any longer, she too made a run for it, hoping she wouldn’t be shot like the other runaway.

She sprinted around the corner. But she only got a few yards before the same behemoth landed in front of her.

He was tall, and had to be at least 6’3. Men were confusingly short in New York, so Y/N was still trying to wrap her mind around having to tilt her head slightly up. But then she realized it wasn’t even his height that was jarring; it was how utterly hulking he was. His shoulders were so wide and his chest was massive. His thighs seemed to be the same width has her entire torso.

Everything about him was intimidating and imposing.

“I gotta give you credit for being that fast while wearing heels,” he said to her as he glanced down at her shoes.

It wasn’t exactly comforting that his voice seemed to also be distorted by the helmet.

Y/N was frozen in fear, truly not knowing what he was capable of or even what he wanted.

“You can relax. I’m not gonna hurt you,” he told her with his hands raised. His guns were no longer in his grip, but in their holsters at his thighs.

“You just killed three men,” Y/N told him with a shaky voice as she took a step back.

“I didn’t kill them. But if you want me to, I’d be happy to go back there and finish the job.”

“What? No!” Y/N cried out.

He had the audacity to chuckle at her reaction.

“Where exactly did you think you were going?” He asked her.

“This whole damsel-in-distress thing is new for me. But I thought it made sense to run away from the guy who was shooting people,” she told him quickly.

Jason was grateful that his mask hid all his emotions and facial expressions, because he was smiling at her sass.

He looked her up and down, taking in her outfit and just her overall look. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

“What gave me away?”

He shrugged, ignoring the question. “What the hell are you doing in The Bowery? This is the most dangerous neighborhood in Gotham.”

“My Uber dropped me off here. I thought I was at my hotel and by the time I figured out I wasn’t, my driver had already sped away and left me for dead.”

He took a step toward her. “What’s a gal like you doing in Gotham?”

“I work for an art gallery in New York. But there was an event that I had to attend. I’ve been here all weekend.” 

Why was she telling him any of this?

Jason nodded in understanding. “Come on,” he told her.

“W-What?” She asked nervously.

“You’re not gonna get a car in this area. You should report the driver who brought you here in the first place. He knew better.”

He walked past her.

Y/N looked around her, trying to figure out if she even had any other option. She knew he was right about a car, which was probably why she’d gotten a loading screen for all of them when it realized her location.

Yes, he was technically a masked criminal. But he did just save her life, no matter how terrifying it was to watch.

Y/N decided she didn’t have much of a choice.

Before she could move, a motorcycle was being pulled up alongside her.

Y/N eyed it for a moment.

“What’s your name?” She asked him, as if it would make the situation any safer.

“Red Hood,” he told her.

Y/N nodded, not surprised that it didn’t make her feel any better. She realized she was in no position to ask for his real identity. She knew enough about vigilantes to understand that they only survived from hiding their true selves from the criminals they fought and the law enforcement who thought what they were doing was wrong.

“Where are you staying?” He asked her.

“Crest Hill Hotel,” she told him.

“Fancy,” he teased. “Hop on.”

Y/N hesitated before following his instructions. She sat awkwardly on the back of the motorcycle, unsure of what to do.

“You’re gonna want to hold on, beautiful.” He told her over his shoulder as he revved the engine.

Y/N tried to ignore the heat that rushed to her face as he called her ‘beautiful,’ and then she tried to ignore how wide and strong his torso felt as she reached to hold on.

It took 20 minutes to get to her hotel, proving that the Uber driver really hadn’t given a crap about how incorrect her original address had been.

Jason had decided to drop her off in the back entrance to avoid a scene of the infamous Red Hood dropping off an average citizen. He didn’t need that type of attention and Y/N shouldn’t be tied to him in any way.

Y/N got off the motorcycle with a surprising grace and turned to him.

“Thank you for…saving me,” she told him gently.

“It was nothing,” he told her.

Y/N just watched him for a moment, wondering what he looked like under that red helmet and without all the armor.

“What’s your name?” He surprised her by asking.

“Y/N. Y/F/N Y/L/N.” 

She didn’t know why she felt comfortable giving her surname. But it just came out.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. Though, I wish it had been under better circumstances.”

Y/N suddenly dug into her purse, making sure she still had her phone and even just the key to her hotel room.

“Fuck,” she muttered without realizing it.

“What is it?” Jason asked.

“Nothing. I just…it sounds stupid, but I have a little notebook to write down ideas for – well, for my artwork. But it must’ve fallen out back in that alleyway when those guys shoved me against the wall.”

When she looked up at him, it was impossible to know what he was thinking.

“Anyways, thank you again.” She turned to finally walk away.

“Y/N?”

She shouldn’t love how much she loved the sound of him saying her name.

Y/N turned around.

“Stay close to the hotel. Gotham is different than New York City.”

She nodded.

————————

“So, when did you see her again?” Dick questioned after he listened to Jason’s retelling.

“I was helping out a friend with a job in NYC. Things got ugly. I may or may not have been shot when I showed up at her window. Her apartment was in the area and I needed a place to lay low.”

Dick laughed. “Uh huh. Sure you did.”

Jason ignored him. “Anyways, I’d gone back to the alley that night and found that notebook she was talking about, and gave it to her to make up for bleeding all over her couch.”

“Always the romantic,” Dick teased.

Their conversation came to a halt. Instead of talking, they both listened to the city noises that Gotham brought.  

“Listen, Jason, I know I did a poor job of being there for you and actually acting like a brother. And I also know you haven’t always been my biggest fan.”

Jason stayed quiet.

“But you deserve to be happy. And we both know Y/N does that.” Dick sighed. “But you don’t talk about her with us and you kept her from even just meeting us after years of you two dating. If we weren’t all noisy and paranoid, we wouldn’t know a thing about her.”  

“What’s your point, Dick?” Jason asked roughly.

“No one ever wants to acknowledge this, especially you…but you’re more like Bruce than any of us. And you’ve seen how he pushes people away, keeping them at a distance. Y/N wants to be a part of your life, your whole life. And that includes all of us – whether you like it or not. So, what I’m saying is you don’t have to hide her from us.”

Dick knew not to expect a response from Jason. So he left him where he found him and gave him his space once again.

Jason didn’t have anything to say anyway. 

Dick’s words made him angry more than anything. Because he knew they were true. Yes, he saw how Bruce behaved with women. It was promiscuous and casual, because anything else was too close for comfort. Bruce’s priority would always be Batman. And Bruce knew that no significant other deserved his lack of commitment – no matter how much they might love each other.

—————

Y/N was doing her nightly routine and applying moisturizer to her face when she heard it. She could be acting paranoid, but her instincts were telling her something was off. 

No, someone was here.

Jason made a point of being loud and immediately announcing when he got home as to not scare her. So, it couldn’t be him.

As quietly as possible, Y/N tiptoed out of the bathroom and to her side of the bed where she kept a titanium baseball bat. Jason had offered her multiple times to teach her how to shoot a gun. But Y/N wanted nothing to do with them.

With the bat in hand, Y/N snuck her way to the living room where she heard the sound.

She had turned off all the lights, making it hard for her to see clearly.

But she did see a large mass standing in the middle of her living room. With just a bit of hesitation, Y/N swung the bat. But the intruder caught the bat, stopping her attack.

They stepped into the moonlight, finally allowing Y/N to see that it was Batman in his full uniform, cowl still on.

“What the fuck. Are you trying to give me a heart attack?” Y/N snapped at him.

“I apologize. I didn’t mean to startle you,” Bruce defended.

But Y/N was still irritated. “Jason isn’t here.”

“I know. I came to talk to you.”

She froze. “Me?”

“I need a favor.”

Y/N narrowed her gaze. “I highly doubt I could do anything to help you.”

“You’re wrong. This has to do with your job. You work at The Drago House.”

Y/N tilted her head and crossed her arms. “Yes.”

“It’s owned by the Ibanescu family. They use it as a front for human trafficking.”

Y/N shook her head. “That can’t be possible…”

“Don’t underestimate the crime families of Gotham, Y/N.”

“So, why do you need me?”

“There are files and codecs that would decipher who their buyers are and where they hold auctions around the world. Nothings digital. They’re old school. With that information, we could shut done their operation forever.”

Y/N’s face was serious now. “What do you need me to do?”

“You have always had access to all the information. You just never knew it. All I need is for you to scan the files.”

She now looked at him suspiciously. “Don’t they say you're the world’s greatest detective? I find it hard to believe that you’d have problems breaking into the gallery after hours to get them for yourself…”

“It’s only completely lockdown as soon as it closes every night. Their security system is high-end and resets every 24 hours. Could we get into it eventually? Yes. But we’ve already been at it for weeks. And we’ve received word that there’s a big…” He hesitated. “…shipment happening any day. We don’t have time to waste.”

Y/N thought about what he was telling her.

“Why didn’t you go to Jason?” She finally asked.

“You said Jason doesn’t tell you what to do.”

Y/N glared at him for using her own words against her.

The apartment went quiet again.

Then Y/N nodded slowly. “There’s an opening tomorrow night. I can get them then.”

—————

Dick’s words haunted Jason for the rest of the night. He wanted to cut patrolling early and just get back to Y/N.

Now he swiftly moved into his apartment from the fire escape and immediately took off his helmet and domino mask underneath.

But Jason froze when he saw Y/N’s bat in the middle of the living room.

His heart raced at the immediate assumption that something happened to her. The furniture was untouched and there were no other signs of trouble, but he still rushed towards the bedroom anyway.

“Y/N?” He called out, despite it being nearly 4AM.

He let out a sigh of relief when he found Y/N slowly waking up from their bed.

“J?” She murmured, half asleep.

“Y/N, why is the bat in the living room?” Jason asked as he rubbed his face and then sat on the edge of the bed near her. Without even thinking, he cupped her cheek.

She rubbed her eyes, trying to wake up more. “I thought I heard something and freaked myself out. But it was nothing.”

“Y/N, how many times do I have to tell you? Call me when shit like that happens.”

“But it was nothing,” she repeated. “What?” She added with a sigh when he was giving her that disapproving look.

“I don’t care if it ends up being nothing. If you’re scared, then I’m going to be here. OK?” Then he finalized his point with a quick kiss to her lips.

She nodded. “OK.”

Then she looked him up and down, realizing that he was still completely in his Red Hood gear, only without his helmet.

“You OK?” She asked in a whisper. Her eyes already scanning his body for any obvious injuries.

“I’m fine,” Jason sighed. “I was just worried about you when I saw the bat. I thought something…”

Y/N quickly sat up in bed. “Hey, hey, hey. I’m fine. I’m OK. I was just being paranoid. I should’ve put the bat back. I’m sorry.”  

A comfortable and reassuring silence settled between them.

“Why don’t you take a shower and come to bed?” Y/N offered softly.

Jason nodded and kissed her again.

As soon as he was out of the room, Y/N ran a hand over her face. 

She hated lying to Jason. He didn’t deserve it. But she also knew he wouldn’t let her anywhere near an operation that Bruce was trying to pull off. This had to be the same thing that Tim had pulled Jason aside for at the gala.

But Bruce made one thing clear: he needed her help. And he wouldn’t do so if he wasn’t desperate.

———————-

The next night, Y/N couldn’t stop sweating and her heart rate was out of control. She tried to act like this was just another day of work, greeting customers, explaining the pieces, and answering questions.

But the need to get into the back offices when everyone else was gone would not stop nagging her.

With shaky hands, she tapped her ID on the scanner. Usually at this point in an event, all of her colleagues were either on the floor or had called it the end of their work day and headed home.

By some miracle, that was exactly the case.

Y/N locked the door behind her, never having seen a purpose for doing so any other day of working at the gallery.

“OK. OK. OK. Breathe,” she muttered to herself as her eyes scanned the room.

She knew where all the files were in the room. And Bruce had given her the keys to knowing what to look for. Now it was just a matter of putting the two together.

Y/N instantly went to work and started shuffling through papers, finding what was needed.

Bruce had given her a special pen that would scan every file within a second no matter what angle it was pointed at, so Y/N wouldn’t have any suspicious photos on her cellphone.

Y/N was almost done, covered in sweat and with shaking hands, when the door started jiggling.

She swore her heart was about to burst out of her chest.

With pure adrenaline, Y/N quickly put back the files that were in her hand.

But the person on the other side of the door was clearly getting impatient quickly and continued to mess with the doorknob.

Y/N jumped when it was finally kicked open. She whipped around to stare at a man who was nearly the size of Jason, but looked far deadlier. She’d never seen him at the gallery before, which meant he was definitely part of Ibanescu’s gang.

“Can I help you?” She snapped rudely, trying to use her authority to hide her fear.

“What are you doing in here?” He accused.

“I work here. Who the hell are you?”

He ignored her question. “Why was the door locked?”

“You still haven’t told me who you are,” Y/N shot back.

And with that, she straightened her posture and started walking past him. But this man wasn’t as stupid as he looked. Just as she thought she’d slipped away, the man grabbed her by the arm.

“Excuse me,” Y/N hissed.

But he ignored her and started dragging her into the back storage area of the gallery and further away from the crowd.

Y/N tried to rip her arm from his grasp but his grip was vice-like and didn’t even seem fazed by her efforts to escape.

This was not good.

While Y/N was still hopeful that she could possibly talk her way out, she was also realistic. 

Which is why she hit a button on her watch.

Jason had gifted it to her very early on in their relationship. It was a classic chronograph watch. But he had installed a panic button onto it.

“If something ever happens – even if you think you’re being overly cautious – you push this and it will send out a signal that I can track. I’ll be there before you know it.” That’s what he had told her when he gifted it, and she’d worn it every day since.

A few seconds later, Y/N was being shoved through the door that led to the back alley.

There was a group of men, just as large and intimidating as the one who still had a grip on her arm.

It was pouring rain and freezing outside. But the slight overhand of the building into the alley protected them slightly.

“What the fuck is this?” One of them asked.

“I found her snooping around in the offices,” he announced.

“I’m one of the directors of this gallery!” Y/N bit back. “I was checking the price points on pieces for a potential customer.”

“The door was locked,” the man added.

They all seemed to be looking at each other.

Y/N was frozen, trying to wait for the perfect moment to make a run for it.

But then she saw one of the men, who appeared to be in charge, eye the pen that was clipped to the pocket of her pants. She prayed that he was too stupid to think it was anything more than just a writing utensil.

But then he slowly walked up to her. He grabbed the pen from her pocket and inspected it.

Y/N swore time froze. She couldn’t hear anything. She couldn’t feel the tight grip on her arm that was surely going to bruise her.

Then the man’s gaze shifted from the pen to her eyes.

“Get her in the car,” he told the group.

Y/N’s heart dropped.

Without hesitating, she immediately started to fight the man holding her. With a swift motion, she kneed him hard in the groin, making him let out a growl and keel over. But he dropped his grip on her arm.

Despite wearing heels, she made a run for it. She didn’t get far, but she got far enough into the rain that she was already drenched.

Another man grabbed her, shoving her against the building and clenching her throat to a point of suffocation.

“You stupid bitch,” her original captor spat as he backhanded her across the face.

Y/N blinked as a ringing started in her ears and her face stung with pain.

“Get her in the car before you make a fuckin’ scene,” the leader warned.

But before they could respond to the command, the street lights went out, causing a surge of darkness to blind all of them.

Y/N tried to step away from her attackers as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. But she couldn’t see a damn thing. The pouring rain was only making it more impossible.

It wasn’t until one of the men cried out in pain and guns started firing that she could see anything. Except it was too fast for her to make out a clear picture. Every so often, a lightning strike or a muzzle flash would give her a short glimpse.

Lo and behold, Batman was taking out the men one by one. But every time Y/N’s eyes focused on his tall silhouette, he’d disappear. She couldn’t keep track of his movements. And apparently neither could any of Ibanescu’s men.

“Shoot the girl!” One of the men yelled.

Y/N’s eyes widened when two of the men turned their guns on her.

But just before they fired off their rounds, a small force tackled her to the side and behind the safety of a giant dumpster.

Y/N looked up to see a young boy shielding her with his own body.

Damian. 

Things were so chaotic that she hadn’t even registered he was there, too.

Before she could say anything to him, there was another presence that dropped down beside her. The next second, she was being grabbed and pulled into the sky.

From the feel of his arms alone, Y/N immediately recognized it as Jason.

His grappling gun had brought them to the roof of the building.

Once their feet were grounded onto the roof, Jason barely stepped away and grabbed her shoulders.

Y/N couldn’t read his face from his helmet. But the subtle movements of his head made it clear that he was scanning her body to see if she’d been hit. It only took a few seconds to be convinced that she was clear.

Then he was grasping her face. “Stay here,” he told her before he used his grappling gun to vault back down into the alleyway.

Y/N ran to the edge of the room to look down.

When Jason returned to the fight below, he was ruthless.

Damian had seen the Red Hood with a vengeance many a time. But this… this was something different.

No bone was left unbroken.

Jason wasn’t just neutralizing these men…he was out for blood and pain.

The leader of the little gang was on his knees, covered in his own blood, when he looked up at Jason, who had a gun pointed just centimeters from his head.

“Red Hood, no!” Bruce growled as he threw a batarang, knocking Jason’s gun away from its almost-victim.

Jason whipped his head around. “They were going to kill her!”

“I wasn’t going to let that happen,” Bruce countered.

While they talked, Damian knocked out the man Jason almost murdered. By now, all of them were knocked unconscious or so injured that they couldn’t even open their eyes.

Jason’s entire body froze, realizing what had really happened. Bruce and Damian didn’t just happen to be there to save his girlfriend. This was their doing. They were the ones who had put her in this dangerous situation to begin with.

“What the fuck did you do?” Jason thundered.

Just as a flash of lightening struck, he turned to face Bruce, finding his new prey.  

“She had an in and I asked her to use it,” Bruce explained evenly. “She agreed.”

“Of course she fucking agreed!” Jason yelled over the rain. “She’d never say no to helping! And you knew that, and you took advantage of it!”

Then he raised his gun, pointing it at Bruce.

“Put the gun down, Red Hood.”

“Fuck you,” Jason hissed.

The next thing Y/N knew, Jason shot a bullet towards Bruce, causing her to let out a yell from above. In her heart she knew he hadn’t aimed to kill, but Bruce dodged the shot anyway.

Now the two men were fully fighting each other. Bruce seemed to be pulling his punches and just trying to remain on the defense. But Jason wanted revenge. Yes, Bruce and him had a dark history. But putting Y/N in danger erupted something inside Jason that made him see red in a way he never had before.

Just as Y/N was going to call out for Jason to stop, she heard someone drop beside her on the roof.

Dick stood a few feet away, standing tall in his Nightwing uniform.

“Dick, do something!” She begged.

“I can stop Bats, but I can’t stop him,” he told her.

“Then get me the fuck down there! Use your zip-line thingy!”

“Zip-line thingy?” Dick repeated, clearly offended. “This is a grappling–”

“Dick!” Y/N cut him off.

“Right, sorry.” He grabbed her, held her body tight to him, and lowered them down back to the alley.

When Y/N looked up, Bruce was on his knees, trying to catch his breath.

But Jason wasn’t done with him.

“You made it clear that you don’t give a shit about me. But putting the one person I love in danger just for you to solve a case? You’ve reached a new low,” Jason yelled as he slowly started to walk towards Bruce.

But before Jason could reach him, Y/N blocked his path.

She was soaking wet and shivering from both the cold rain and the shock.

Jason could already see the bruises covering her neck and face. He also didn’t miss the small line of blood that had trickled down her nose.

“Jason,” she whimpered. “That’s enough.”

He froze.

Y/N walked to him. “Please, just take me home,” she whispered.

Just seeing her made Jason’s entire body relax. But he was also reminded that she was the priority, not Bruce.

Noticing her shivering, he took off his leather jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders.

Bruce, Dick, and Damian were barely able to see the short, loving moment before Jason flung a smoke capsule onto the ground, covering him and Y/N as he brought her into his arms.

By the time the smoke disappeared, Jason and Y/N were gone.

—————-

When Jason and Y/N got back to their apartment, Jason when into autopilot mode of nursing Y/N. He pulled her into their bathroom and immediately started helping her out of her wet clothes. Y/N couldn’t stop shaking, and he noticed.

Jason only left her side for the split moment when he turned to start the shower, making sure to make it extra hot.

Then he was right back at her side, taking off his uniform and matching her nudity.

When he gently tugged her into their abnormally large shower, there was nothing sexual about it.

Now that Y/N’s skin was bare to him, he looked at all the injuries she had.

There were a few scrapes that would heal in a week or so. But Jason’s gaze went dark every time they lingered on the bruises across her throat, face, and bicep. He should’ve killed all of those bastards.

Y/N leaned into Jason’s chest. “I’m sorry,” she muttered. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Because she knew that’s what this was. Jason wasn’t mad at her – at least, not yet. That could very much come later. But no, right now, he was scared. He put so much energy into keeping Y/N away from his other life, only for her to be thrown right into the center of it. And it wasn’t even his doing; it was Bruce’s.

“I know,” he bent down to whisper in her ear as he wrapped his arms around her.

Y/N didn’t know how long they stayed in the shower. But eventually Jason turned off the water and wrapped Y/N around in a fluffy white towel. She looked so young and innocent.

He moved her to their bedroom and sat her down on the edge of the bed.

Y/N watched him as he moved about the room, getting each of them clothes – all from his own closet.

“Are you hungry?” He asked her carefully as he handed her a pair of his sweatpants and one of his hoodies.

She shook her head.

Jason wasn’t surprised. One of the side effects of trauma and shock was a loss of appetite. But he made her drink a huge glass of water before he let her get in bed. And he made a mental note to make a big breakfast tomorrow when her body recovered and realized how starving it was.

When they were both finally under the covers, Jason didn’t hesitate to pull Y/N completely in his arms, smothering her with his giant frame. She welcomed his touch and warmth, burying her face into his chest.

Neither of them knew who needed this closeness more.

Tonight had been scary. Y/N knew Jason’s anger was bound to show up at some point. But right now, both of them were just grateful they were okay.

————————-

To Y/N’s surprise, she woke up in bed alone.

But her concern didn’t last long as she heard Jason moving around in the kitchen and she could hear soft music was playing if she listened hard enough.

When Y/N moved to get out of bed, she felt all the soreness that came from being grabbed and thrown around like she was last night. She winced, but it wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle. But she made a mental note to hide any signs that she was in pain from Jason.

Over their time together, Y/N and Jason got disturbingly good at reading one another. So, when Y/N walked into the kitchen to find Jason making breakfast, she immediately sensed things were not good. It wasn’t the cooking that tipped her off. His naked back was to her and she could somehow see the tension in his shoulders – in his whole body.

Y/N knows he heard her as soon as she walked into the kitchen.

“There’s coffee,” he says without turning around from the stove. He’s making pancakes. Chocolate chip pancakes, to be precise.

Y/N pours herself some coffee and sits at the table, watching him.

A few minutes pass before she’s had enough of the tension.

“If you’re gonna yell at me, then yell at me,” she told him.

Jason froze for a moment, but then quickly looked at her over his shoulder. “When have I ever yelled at you?”

He had a point.

Yes, Jason was once filled with only rage. There was a reason some feared Red Hood more than the Batman. He was ruthless. Fueled by vengeance, his temper, and his disappointment in the evil that plagued the world. He fought his enemies, but he also fought with his friends and family.

But Jason Todd was none of those things with Y/N. He never lost his temper with her. He never projected his rage and hardships from what he saw as Red Hood onto her. He’d never even raised his voice with her.

“I know,” Y/N admitted. “But I also know you’re still angry.”

Jason sighed, turning off the stove and bringing a giant plate of pancakes to the table.

But Y/N couldn’t eat while having this discussion.

Jason leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You wouldn’t have let me do it,” Y/N countered.

“Yeah, and for good reason.”

“He used you, Y/N.” Jason tried to explain. “You’re untrained… with no exposure to this world. He knew not to involve you and he went behind my back to do it anyway.”

Y/N lowered her head in shame. There was a part of her that felt useless. She couldn’t jump around rooftops and save those who needed it. She was just…normal.

“I just wanted to help,” she mumbled.

Jason leaned forward from seeing her upset. “Y/N, come here.” He reached for her hand and baited her towards him.

She took his offer and moved from her chair to straddle his lap.

Jason held her waist tightly as he pressed his forehead to her’s. “I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered.

“You’re not going to,” she reassured him.

“Please, I’m begging you, don’t ever do something like that again.”

Y/N’s heart hurt at how desperate he sounded. She had realized far too quickly that Jason wasn’t scared of death. He was only scared of her death.

“I promise,” she told him.

“You scared the fucking shit out of me, Y/N.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Jason accepted her apology with a kiss. But it didn’t end quickly. In fact, it got more heated and hungrier. His grip got firmer on her waist.

Y/N knew where this was going, especially as he thumbed the hem of her hoodie and sweatpants. But they both needed this.

“The pancakes, Jason.” She warned him.

Jason smiled as he pulled away from her lips. “Fuck the pancakes,” he told her in between kisses. “I’m takin’ you back to bed.”

—————————

A few weeks had passed since the incident. Y/N tried to get her relationship with Jason back to normal. He still insisted on keeping his vigilante life away from her. But there was more of an understanding for why now.

However, tension had risen again a couple days after the attack, when they received an interesting gift in the mail. They had opened a rather large envelope addressed to the both of them. 

Inside were two first-class plane tickets to Paris with their names on them and an open reservation at Hotel Le Royal Monceau.

Y/N had stared at them with more of an understanding than Jason.

She’d looked up at Jason. “I…I told him I’ve always wanted to go to Paris when I first met him at the gala.”

He’d glared at the gift. “Typical Bruce. If he can’t punch his way out of an issue, he’ll try and buy it.”

Neither of them had said anything about actually using tickets and reservation. It just collected dust on one of their end tables.

Now Y/N sat in their apartment alone, reading another one of Jason’s books, when her cell started ringing.

It was a number she didn’t know, but she decided to answer it anyway.

“Hello?”

“Ms. Y/L/N, it’s Alfred Pennyworth,” a charming voice answered back.

Y/N couldn’t help, but smile. As if she knew more than one Alfred in the world. “Hi, Alfred.”

“I thought it would be a good time to give you that lesson you asked for. Are you free today?”

Y/N looked around her apartment. All of her plans for today had consisted of laying around, drinking coffee, doing a bit of reading.

“Yes, today would be great.”

—————

Y/N wouldn’t make the same mistake twice and had given Jason the heads up on her change of plans.

Seeing as Jason had no issue with Alfred, he didn’t seem too bothered bit it all. But he did still tell her to be careful and ended the call with a sincere, “I love you.”

It was strange going back to Wayne Manor when there wasn’t a gala being held there.

Y/N thought it would seem more like a home this time around, but it still felt like a museum to her. And yet, she still had imposter syndrome as she walked through the threshold.

Alfred gave her a warm smile as he opened the door. “It is lovely to see you again, Ms. Y/L/N.”

“Alfred, please, it’s just Y/N.”

He nodded. Then he gestured for her to follow him. “Come. I have a station set up in the cave.”

Y/N stuttered to a stop. “Cave? As in the Bat Cave?”

Alfred seemed amused with her hesitation and concern. “Of course.”

“Should I be – Is that even OK?” Y/N fumbled through her question.

“Well, I don’t see the point of hiding it from you. It’s not like you don’t know all the family secrets already, dear.”

Y/N blinked at that and finally continued following him.

Alfred led her through the secret passage way as if he was taking her to the dining room. She tried to control her reactions and not come off too interested in the details of it all. But it was rather hard.

Just like Alfred told her, there was a little medical station set up in a brighter lit area of the dark and dingy cave.

Y/N half expected him to bring up the recent drama that she’d caused. But ever the gentleman, Alfred didn’t so much as mention it.

He also did as he promised, going through everything she could ever need to know while tending to Jason. He even had little models to practice sewing stitches on. He was a good teacher and Y/N was soaking it all up like a sponge.

She couldn’t imagine her going to med school at any point. But knowing these skills were going to be used to help Jason made it easier to retain.

After hours of teaching, the cave awoke as a carport opened and the batmobile sped in.

Y/N internally swore. She’d hoped not to run into Bruce with this visit. He never seemed to be home, so the odds had seemed low. But clearly she’d messed that up.

Bruce stepped out of the car, taking in the two of them.

“Any injuries, Master Wayne?” Alfred asked politely.

Bruce was about to lie, but he glanced down at his abdomen where it was quite obvious he was bleeding.

“Perfect. My pupil can practice on you,” Alfred announced. 

Y/N’s eyes widened in panic. “Oh! That’s definitely a bad idea…”

“Nonsense. Best way to learn is under pressure,” he winked. “I shall go off and start dinner. Let me know if you’re near death, Master Wayne.”

Y/N watched him leave, regretting ever having come here.

When she turned back around, Bruce was removing his cowl.

“He’s right,” Bruce admitted. “Best way to learn is under pressure.” Then he moved to sit in the medical chair.

Y/N swallowed, realizing how dry her mouth was. “Right.”

Her hands shook as she tried to remember everything Alfred had been through. But she knew in the back of her mind that Bruce was fully capable of stitching himself up. So, as much as this was a set up from Alfred, Bruce wasn’t running away from it like she had tried to.

Y/N hadn’t said a word as she cleaned his wound, only apologizing when she thought was necessary – even though he never made a sound of pain or even so much as winced.

Bruce seemed to be following her lead, not wanting to force her to talk if she didn’t want to.

But after 20 minutes or so of silence, Y/N couldn’t take it any longer.

“You know, you can’t buy his forgiveness,” she said as she focused on her stitches.

“I wasn’t only looking for his forgiveness…”

Her eyes flickered to meet his awaiting gaze. “You can’t buy mine either.”

“I owe you an apology,” Bruce began to her surprise. “I should have never involved you. It was dangerous, despite how in control of situation I thought I was.”

“I agreed to it,” Y/N offered. Then she looked at him again. “But I accept your apology.”

A moment passed before Y/N asked, “Are you going to say that to him, too?”

“I would if he would even consider talking to me.”

With that comment, Y/N put down her tools for a second and straightened her posture. “I may not know you very well, Bruce. But I do know that you and Jason are more alike than either of you care to admit.”

She hesitated on continuing. Did Bruce even deserve advice from her?

“He was hurt. And he showed all of you that hurt by being angry, because he didn’t know how else to tell you. He doesn’t feel heard and he doesn’t feel seen. He was lost. And it’s hard for him to just forget how you all handled it.” She took in a deep breath. “But I know he still sees all of you as his family. And you’re the closest thing he’s ever had to a real father.”

Then she quickly grabbed her tools again and cleared her throat. “So, get over yourself, and just talk to him. And I mean actually talk to him – not as Batman and Red Hood, but as Jason and Bruce.”

The cave went quiet.

Y/N couldn’t help herself and looked up at Bruce. Either she was losing her mind or he was giving her a very shy smirk.

“What?” She blurted out.

But before he could answer, a motorcycle sped into the cave.

Y/N would recognize Jason’s bike anywhere. But he wasn’t in uniform. Instead, opting for his black leather jacket and a normal tinted motorcycle helmet.

After he took it off, he eyed the two of them, trying to read the room.

“Hey,” Y/N said shyly.

“Figured I’d come and pick you up,” Jason answered her unasked question, ignoring Bruce.

Y/N looked down at Bruce’s injury. “Actually, I’m all done here.”

“Thank you,” Bruce said sincerely as Y/N covered the wound with a bandage. “You’ll be a better nurse than Alfred in no time.”

Y/N grinned and took off her gloves.

But then she met Jason’s unsure gaze. They had a silent conversation.

“I’m gonna go say goodbye to Alfred,” she quickly told Jason, but really she was telling both of them. “Meet me out front when you’re ready?”

Jason hesitated, but nodded.

Y/N walked to him and gave him a quick kiss for comfort and encouragement.

And then she was off, leaving the two men alone.

Jason shifted his weight, not knowing where to start.

“You’re lucky to have her,” Bruce finally spoke.

Jason winced even though it was a compliment. “I don’t deserve her.”

Bruce stood up. “That’s not true.”

“You of all people know I’m not a good man, Bruce.”

He shook his head. “We may have different views on how to save this city. But we both want the same thing. That doesn’t mean you’re not a good man, Jason.”

Jason blinked at his statement.

“I owe you an apology for... a lot,” Bruce began. “The first is putting that girl in danger.” He paused. “The second was not protecting you – before and after everything that happened.”

“You mean before and after I died?” Jason wasn’t going to make this easy for him.

Bruce’s jaw clenched at that.

“Anything else you want to apologize for?” Jason challenged.

“Yes,” Bruce confirmed. “But I get the feeling that you don’t want to hear it all right now.”

There was a pause.

“You’ll always be my son, Jason. Even if you no longer see me as your father.”

Jason’s eyes filled with tears at Bruce’s words. But he held them back. He couldn’t break down. He couldn’t be weak. Not here. Not now. Not like this. 

He couldn’t take any more of this discussion. But he knew this was what he’d been wanting to hear from Bruce for so long.

“I’ll see you around, Bruce.” He told him before putting his helmet back on.

But Bruce had one last thing to say. “Keep her close. Don’t be like me, Jason.”

‘Don’t push people who love you away and make this darkness be your only life,’ was what Bruce would never actually have the courage to say.

Jason now had the cover of his helmet to hide his expressions. But he gave Bruce one last glance before tearing out of the cave.

—————

As Jason pulled his motorcycle up to the front of the manor to pick of Y/N, Damian was playing out front with Titus on the gravel drive.

“Hey, Demon Spawn,” Jason greeted after taking off his helmet.

“Todd,” the boy replied coldly.

To his surprise, Jason got off his bike and walked to him with his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket.

Damian eyed him.

“I saw what you did that night. You saved her life,” Jason said.

Damian waited.

Jason held out his hand. “I just wanted to thank you.”

The boy hesitated before finally shaking it.

Jason didn’t expect Damian to say anything. But he did know talking to him like an adult, instead of a kid, was the only way to get through to him.

Then Y/N was walking out to them with Alfred lingering in the doorway.

“Hi, Damian,” she greeted sweetly before greeting his dog as well.

“Hi, Y/N.”

Jason was surprised he even remembered her name.  

“Ready to go?” He asked Y/N.

She nodded. But then reached up to touch the white in his hair. She seemed to have a fondness for it. And Jason didn’t seem to mind.

“You OK?” She asked.

He nodded. “Better.”

She gave him a shy but encouraging look. “I’m glad.”

“I love you, you know,” Jason breathed.

“I know,” she smiled.

---------------------------------

Oh lordy. That took way longer than I was expecting. But kept my mind off of this dumpster fire of a country. And I hope reading it did the same for you ❤️

[sugar-petals]

Club Daemon (m)

PAIRING. merman!baekhyun x vampire!reader

↳ PLOT. You join a club of half-demons all hailing from different supernatural species — and find an unexpected love.  

↳ WORDS. 27k

TAGS / WARNINGS ⚠️ eventual smut, jealousy, explicit bloodsucking sex (mutual oral, vaginal), fangs kink, pining, groping, femdom!reader, angst/action, neck fixation, rough sex, fantasy au

The room is filled with smoke, but not from any cigarettes. Somewhere around here, or so you’ve been told, must be the entrance to actual hell. 

A gloomy spiral staircase headed for the core of the earth, kind of rusty and gleaming in red, fog everywhere, you get the idea. But so far… that’s none of your business. And either way.

The architecture in the part of the mansion you were invited to elegantly pools into a massive door of brass and copper. An embossed piece, amazingly sculpted — a hundred years old or more.

The center depicts a translucent emblem that appears to be strangely double-headed. Two facial profiles. One gazing east, the other, west. What exactly that’s supposed to mean: You have no idea, but you get the gist. Some kind of Greek mythology visual going on there. 

Doesn’t look like hell, does it.

You approach the door with slowed steps, tug your blazer into a comfortable fit at the lower hem. Had a mint? Check. Documents? Check. Posture? Semi-check. Adjusting necessary. Back straight, firmer walk. Done. Hopefully. As long as you don’t have to take those reckless stairs down south, you’re surprisingly ready for this. And what kind of preparations can you take for this kind of encounter in the first place anyway.

Beside the door, a concierge behind a luxurious, bulky table lifts his golden-framed glasses. They’re exceptionally thin and round, making their wearer appear like a wise, yet prying owl. Mister Mark Lee, apparently, going by how Taemin described him to you. 

Oh God, Taemin’s pointers saved your life finding this place. He’s been so forthcoming and took the time to explain as much as he could. The moment makes you reminisce a little. Your eyes lose focus.

Meanwhile, fully in the moment, the conscierge seems to cloud himself in the mystery of his dark green suit without any words. A man as groomed as this very Victorian penthouse. And this very borough, and this very carpet you’re standing on. Greeting you with a nod as understated as can be. 

It’s not like he’s treating you like air — he simply keeps the certain reserve you’d expect from a nocturnal bird. Or so it seems. That you’d be scrutinized you already expected, but this way feels a bit uneasy in the chest. If you’re the mouse to the owl, you want to move on past that door as fast as you fucking can.

You try to continue standing straight and hand him your letter as inconspicuously as possible. Oh, that damn piece of paper that turned your life around. A little ‚good evening‘ barely leaves your throat and Mister Lee presses a button underneath the table top after gazing over the document nearly thrice. Following his insistent eyes, you leave your phone on the table altogether, and now have virtually nothing to hold onto. You opt for putting your hands in your navy blue pants pockets. If that’s any good around here, staying a little hellishly casual. 

‘A very good evening indeed,‘ is what Mister Lee’s eyes seem to reply.

The door shifts open with a dull, booming sound. Very well then. You stagger inside toward what’s hopefully behind it — suddenly feeling so terribly exhausted. Hazy. You don’t know how it hit you. So many scents. Impressions. Movement. Space. Eyes. Heartbeats. 

You try hard to focus on the first candle you can see around, and you do find one, and it does ground you. After their split-second delirium, your feet anchor on the carpet now, and the scenery pulls you back to breathing. Now, the bigger picture becomes a lot clearer. 

There are several men settled everywhere across the room that opens before you so luxuriously. All dressed in the finest of garments and polished shoes, donning the most annoyingly impeccable haircuts on top of that. Everything about this room screams dignity, and haughtiness, and a hefty bank account. 

But you can’t deny another, stronger hunch. The presence of one gentleman in particular sends a chilly feeling down your spine. You can’t tell who it is now. You just know that somebody here is very different. Dangerously so.

Between armchairs, chandeliers, blood-filled cups and side tables, you spot arrangements of night-blooming jasmine and daffodils. Large and opulent, really catching your eye with their elegant trumpet shapes. 

Perhaps, and you really have no clue whether that’s a good theory, to suggest that however solid teak and mahogany this entire interior might be, there is still life and scent in it. But it’s all… so carefully curated. Too deliberate to be authentic in the very least, and that’s what is making you tense up so much. You know very well that nobody in this room, if it weren’t for this meeting, would be preoccupied with flowers. Except maybe Taemin. But he’s half-elven, so that doesn’t count. Elves love jasmine.

Meanwhile, you suspect that the cups with blood were purposely brought in to catch you off guard pretty much right away. To test your self-control, get you startled, or lord knows what. Power games in this club, you’d not be surprised. But the scent really is so overbearing. You become all light-headed. Whatever they set up for you here, it’s already working. You feel like falling asleep in the middle of the damn night. 

The fumes, and the candles, and the daffodils—

„Wong Yukhei,“ a voice finally pierces through the mist inside your brain. 

You perk up. It belongs to a figure seated in the deeper middle of the room. A dark-haired man, noticeably tall and baritoned, with full lips, immense shoulders. In fact, a frame to behold all tailored in matte black. Down to the pointed oxford shoes, laced up in a very brisk way as if someone pulled a corset very tight.

„Yes—?“

„Half-lycan. Club president. Have a seat.“

Now you know why he speaks first.

It’s like you’re frozen on the spot. Judging by how muscular he is underneath that very suit, especially around the upper body, you don’t want to catch a glimpse of what happens when the moon says hi. Half werewolf it is. No wonder his hands are huge like paws. You don’t have to count one and one together to know that this guy could go casual beastmode and rip the room’s door in half.

„A... alright.“

Stammering like a fool isn’t something you planned but comes out as a sheer reflex. To distract from the awkward tone, you resort to looking around. You wonder if the club is in full attendance. Because who knows, they could await some more people like you later on. There are actually quite a few empty seats to choose from. A dozen, perhaps a bit more. Each with a filled cup on a table, right to the brim, one more flavorful than the other.

Since the president didn’t gesture towards any seat in particular, you find yourself having to make an intuitive choice. Whether that’s some werewolfey ‚where does she put up her territory?‘ personality quiz or whatever… is unimportant because your nose is already telling you precisely where to sit anyway. In fact, obnoxiously so. It’s itching like crazy at most of the scents except one. You realize — at least that you can rely on. There’s that one cup you want to be close to. Ignoring it would probably torture you for the entire night so you give into it.  

Taking the empty chair at the chimney fire on the right side of the room comes naturally. And: With several eye pairs resting very firmly on you. But your attention is elsewhere already. The blood in the goblet of this particular table really does smell like the most delicious thing. There’s something magically attractive about the consistency. You can feel with your whole body just how amazingly juicy and welcoming the drink is. For a strange reason, it seems like it’s almost iridescent. You’ve never seen that before. Everyone in the room has the current pleasure of watching you being smitten by a fucking drink.

There’s no way they didn’t see you lick your lips like a first class pervert either.

Whatever first impression you’re giving them, it’s one that makes a part of you mentally run out the door again. Poor Taemin thought you were a promising invitee. You feel bad for disappointing him already. Slave to your instincts, how on earth are you even supposed to sit here in the finest and highest of company. Creating sexual tension over a glass of blood in a millionaire’s club or whatever.

Still, against all odds, the other part of you glady reclines in your seat, sleazy like a retired Russian oligarch on his yacht. Because that means: Smelling that heavenly scent up close. Hell, just fuck everything else. It’s the most gratifying thing you’ve come across. Did they brew you a damn magic potion or something? 

You have a hard time snapping back to the conversation and realize everyone is still intently looking at you admiring your cup as if it’s a prime time television event with Zac Efron in it. Which you now force yourself to break from. Not so gladly this time. You really want to have a sip, but Yukhei’s pressing gaze demands you to make your move. You wonder why his eyes are so livid, but again realize that he probably doesn’t need the moon to be wolf-like, does he.

„So you were the one who came up with inviting me, then?“ you say, and the words come out much more bluntly. It surprises you. Since you skipped the introduction and small talk altogether, maybe your mouth thought, why not strike a direct tone. Just being in the vicinity of something so mouthwatering makes you feel on top of the world out of literal nowhere. You’re about to lose your train of thought again that Yukhei fervently shakes his head.

„It was Baekhyun’s suggestion. A terribly daring one I thought,“ he says. „Thank him that we agreed to meeting you in person. In fact, he was very adamant we’d do so.“

You look around the assembly, hoping to find clarity about whoever prompted the invitation letter. Since nobody seems to put anything forth, you quiz yourself on who of these gentlemen looks like a Baekhyun, and why nobody is reacting. Everyone’s literally sitting there like marble statues. 

According to Taemin, getting an invitation to Club Daemon is not only something that excludes the general public, but also merely a fleeting ‚rumor‘. Not even a neighborhood legend if it came down to it. Because on more official papers, this guild does not exist. Whoever wanted to invite you was indeed taking a notable risk — to the president’s nuisance, on top of that.

Oh yeah. Now you’re at the edge of your seat.

„Eh. I’m afraid Baekhyun cannot meet you in this particular setting,“ Yukhei breaks into a lop-sided smirk. You’re shocked he’d pull a dismissive face like that. So openly, like he simply doesn’t give one damn all of a sudden. Strangely enough, it still doesn’t take away from just how nobly he’s dressed. It’s seriously messing with your head. Or is it the goblet?

„So, this setting, um—“

You look like Yukhei just spoke in a different language now. Stifled laughter among the guild members. At least they’re reacting now. That’s progress. But you’re even more confused and stuff your hands back into your pockets.

„See. Carpets are typically not Baekhyun’s favored grounds. He’s half-merman,“ Yukhei continues, very much composed in his seat now just as before. And it finally registers.

Oh man.

You can’t spot some giant water tank in this room or anything of that kind. There’s no way he could just casually hang out here. Of course he can’t greet you in the club. Sweet Jesus. You have too much blood and flower scent around you.

„But not to worry. You’ll get to meet your sweet benefactor,“ Yukhei leans back, the smirk growing even wider. „Baekhyun can speak to you in the club bathroom from time to time. If he’s not out there playing around in the bays like the kid he is.“

„I see? Uh...“

You shift back and forth in your seat. Even if your brain somehow tries to piece that information together, keeping your eyes off the chalice is so hard all over again. 

You can’t lie, it’s even starting to get you hot and bothered from the toes up. Gritting your teeth is all you can do not to gasp out loud. Literally, you’re one moan away from semi-public indecency. That is, if human law applies to this room. Going by how everyone is so keen to see you react, it probably doesn’t. Your ears are telling you that pretty much everyone is holding their breath right now. Untouched orgasm at 7:30 PM? Wasn’t on your plan either. But looks like you’re headed for it. You wonder if Yukhei has been planning to set you up for this and—

„We didn’t put this up to confuse you, Y/N. Please feel free to drink. We want you to feel welcome here,“ a second, innately friendly voice addresses you now, parting the silence like a vintage knife through warm butter. It’s much softer than Yukhei’s, as if laced with honey.

Immediately, you recognize the sound. It is Taemin.

Seated to Yukhei’s far left in a flawlessly upright posture. Blond and lavish, dressed in a type of brocade tux. It seems to be a mix of burgundy and golden pipings in the fire light, but you could be wrong. With good reason and regard to most members present, the room is kept very dark. In fact, the atmosphere couldn’t be any more controlled. Nevertheless — finally reuniting with him is such a relief. You already want to thank him for averting a full-on catastrophe.

„Taemin! It’s good to see you again,“ you finally break the tension. Your tone loses all discomfort, your face brightens. Taemin gently bows in response. His poise lights up the room, and you even manage to detach from the chalice.

„The pleasure is ours. It’s great to see you again as well.“

You recall. The memory is still so vivid. He was the one who brought you the letter in the late evening. You were sitting on your balcony scrolling through your phone feed and boom. There he was, sitting — even seemingly glowing or whatever it was — in a cherry tree. With his pointy ears and an envelope for you, the exact invitation Baekhyun had suggested. As far as you can remember, he’s been elected as the Club’s vice president very recently.

Taemin explained a lot of the club’s incentives to you on the balcony. Even if you did manage to drop your phone in shock at his appearance, his open approach had you packing up your bags for the mansion in a matter of two days. Seems like the club knows who to send when they don’t want to intimidate possible recruits. If Yukhei showed up in that dark suit and the low brow, you probably would’ve turned into a bat and headed for the forest. Well, or something like that. Meanwhile, Taemin feels like you’ve been familiar for decades.

„Do drink. It is handpicked for you!“

„Thank you, Taemin,“ is all you can say, and turn back to your drink with shaky hands. Finally. And well. If Taemin offers it, it can’t be wrong. It’s far too late to ignore it anyway. You already grab the base of the chalice like you’re holding on to dear life.

The first sip is so hasty, Yukhei almost has to laugh out loud. Or is it a laugh? Taemin frowns right at him, but you’re too busy chugging to notice. Hawthorn, lotus, apples, water lily, chestnuts and vanilla. So many nuances, too little tastebuds and too little words to describe it. You’ve never tasted blood of such a quality. For free. Not one pause to breathe, it just goes down like fine liquor.

Everything in your body starts to feel completely alert. Whoever this blood belongs to, whatever is going on, this is the most thrilling feeling you’ve experienced in a while. It’s like floating inches above your seat. Your face is feeling all heated as if the chimney fire burns your cheeks. Your skin is normally pretty cold and stays that way if you think about it. 

At the same time, you’re surprisingly refreshed on the inside. The blood left a minty trace on the back of your tongue. You know the men are watching you, but you can’t help but ride the high of the taste for a few seconds with your eyes closed. Once the rush is fully over, you slack in your seat. Open your eyes. And sigh out. Goddamn. 

If that means to feel welcome here, then you’re more than convinced. Taemin knows how to serve an aperitif. Everything about your body feels relaxed. You bet your pupils are more blown than Yukhei’s dick in his freetime going by how he sits and watches your reaction. Manspreading is an understatement. Wolfspreading is the new thing. Literally, what on earth happened. He’s glowering at you like you just stole the keys to the glitzy silver sportscar that’s parked in front of the mansion and without a doubt must be his. Your eyes aren’t deceiving you even if the light is so dim: He’s straight-up gotten all angry to the point of gritting his teeth.

But there’s also something that tells you he’s afraid.

„Now, you probably want to know why we’re interested in you, right,“ Taemin gently continues once you put the empty chalice down and make very needed use of the napkin already placed next to the cup. Heartbeat: Speed of a bullet train arriving at a station.

„I’m starting to see why.“

Most of your exhaustion is actually… gone. Out of the blue. You’re feeling much more perceptive, much faster in every move. Maybe Edward was right with his personal brand of heroin. You just never knew because you had 5 Pounds 50 blood from TESCO’s every day until now. So that’s that.

„We didn’t find a novice in twenty years,“ Taemin says. „Nor a half-vampire for that matter.“

In passing, he ushers a slender-looking butler towards your table. Casually, as if he did it a million times already. So far, using the shade of the lighting, the butler had been blending in with a velvet curtain until now. You ask yourself if you’ve actually noticed him or not. You can’t clearly tell which is strange. But then again, going by the course of events until now, not really.

„Right,“ you reply, trying to focus on Taemin — without much success. The butler simply looks too striking. He uses a large carafe to refill what probably measures up to another quarter liter into your chalice. He looks at you with sheer intent, it’s Yukhei’s gaze times ten, almost like it’s bundled into a lazer. Instead of being excited about the refill, you find yourself trying to desperately decipher the butler’s look. It’s not wolfy this time, that’s for sure. It’s something far, far different. It’s something deeply scary.

The butler lingers. It takes five seconds too long for him to return to the curtain. There’s that feeling again. That hunch from before when you came in, so much stronger now. You’re shivering. The man looks so serious in his crisp red suit, with the pin stripes and a golden pocket watch at his lapel. His aura is so freezing cold.

„Meaning, our guild could urgently use a new addition,“ Taemin keeps on speaking, with Yukhei closely listening to how he puts his words. In the meantime, the butler stands completely still in the dark, merging with the curtain almost completely again. But you can tell his eyes are on you. His frame looks so skinny at a distance, but you can tell he’s much stronger than that. Lord knows Yukhei might not be the only one who could break the door in half.

You hold on tight to the napkin in your lap. Where you thought you’d feel elated, you’re all sober now.

„Twenty years is a long time,“ you comment, a lot more dryly this time.

Even in a club where nobody ages by human standards, this could be quite a frustration. Looking around, you begin to understand why the invitation was such an urgent matter and there are many more empty seats. All the members look very established and at home to say the very least. Nobody here appears to be a novice.

„It is,“ Taemin replies. „You can see why we wanted to talk to you.“

„Yes. I can. Thank you for considering me. It was a bit out of nowhere but, I guess there’s no way to do it differently.“

Taemin nods. Meanwhile, Yukhei remains visibly displeased in his center seat, with his expression growing much darker by the minute. You can’t tell whether he didn’t like you downing the blood so fast like a post-diet Dracula or how Taemin explained all of this to you now. You don’t have to wonder for a long time, though.

„That we expand our assembly with a half-vampire out of all possibilities— was not my idea,“ Yukhei taps his fingers onto the lion-shaped armrests of his chair. The poor fellas probably have a hard time carrying his frame, fragile as they look. Taemin, on the other hand, is as nonchalant and petite as you got to know him. Like a feather on his seat, he sways his torso ever so slightly while he listens. Then, he reaches over to pat Yukhei on the shoulder with a wide, reassuring smile.

„But you were still delighted that Baekhyun found someone, didn’t you.“

„You make it sound like a public holiday. Eh, we’re recruiting, Taemin.“

„You didn’t take too long to agree to sending the invitation at all. Back when Kai joined, you needed five months to say yes. And he’s half-lycan himself.“

„Because Jongin was a grade A stupid bastard… and still is,“ Yukhei darts an even lower gaze to a particularly shaded corner of the room. Whoever this guy Kai is, he’s sitting right there and grins his life away. Now that you set your eyes on him, you’re about to piss your fucking pants.

Even behind a particularly large array of jasmine bouquets, his silhouette looks the most powerful out of all the club members despite him not being as tall as Yukhei. Where you would’ve called the Yukhei ‚strong‘, Kai was first and foremost athletic — head to toe, with a looming frame. He’s kept silent for the entire time, but he sure listened well.

„It’s a competition, Yukhei,“ the silhouette crosses his legs, laughing. „Whoever is bastardly enough is qualified for being the club president. Sounds like I’m headed right for it. But you’re also knee-deep. Knee-deep, I’m telling you.“

Kai’s voice is much lighter than you thought it would be, but the way he speaks commands instant respect. Yukhei’s answer is a mixture of a growl and a huff, but it’s so blended together that it’s becoming hard to distinguish to your reeling ears. All you know is that the atmosphere in the room feels like a string ready to snap.

So that’s what half-lycans are all about, then.

In case they’re about to fully out-bastard each other, you take another sip to distract yourself. You hear your ears pulse even more. The blood really is delicious and takes your mind off. To your surprise and relief, Yukhei squarely turns to the assembly with a much more point-blank attitude in his movement now. Kai remains entirely ignored.

„That she’s not part of a vampire clan and we couldn’t find possible members for so long is the only reason she’s here, that’s all.“

„Enough a reason,“ Taemin smiles even wider, and puts more soothing into his phrasings. Kai’s unsettling presence doesn’t seem to faze him the very least. 

„We’d be happy to have you join us if you’re inclined,“ he now addresses you again. „I’m sure our talk about the training and formal things will bore you, though. I reckon you want to be introduced to your kind first.“

„Oh…“

Your kind.

That explains a lot. A whole damn lot, to be exact. You can’t help but suck in air, but it’s less awkward than you thought. In fact, your reaction brings some life into the room. Looks like everyone has anticipated this. Yukhei’s eyes narrow. Kai seems even more alert. You feel like a lab rat new to the cage.

„You felt his presence when you stepped in, didn’t you,“ Taemin asks, his head tilting a bit to the side.

You did. The half-elf looks confirmed in his statement.

„It’s him, right,“ you direct your eyes toward the curtain, but don’t dare to lift your gaze any further.

The butler.

He’s been sticking out like a sore thumb.

You felt him since the very first moment.

„Yes,“ Taemin says.

Your suspicion, or rather, what your body told you from the beginning with every shiver and every fiber, was entirely right: With an interpretation you couldn’t grasp just then. But now you do. Your intuition didn’t lie.

„Ma’am. Pleased to meet you. Lee Taeyong,“ the butler strikes a surprisingly fluid introduction. You freeze up again. It’s very unlike his stiff positioning, stepping forth from his usual waiting place so his face is visible to you in candle light entirely at a bit of a distance. Lee Taeyong. His face… really is sharp.

„I was expelled from my clan 80 years ago,“ he disposes of his tray to speak freely now. His voice is so deep, it almost resonates in your ribcage. But then, you see something vulnerable in him. You don’t know what it is.

„Expelled?“

„You can imagine. They found out I wasn’t full vampire,“ he continues. Now you do see them. His fangs. You should’ve noticed. Damn. „That’s how I got here.“

And now you actually get what happened. Taeyong is an outcast. Looking past his teens, 150, 170 years, a tenth of Taemin’s age at the very least. And he’s half-vampire who’s been on his own pretty much: Just like you. That’s something that still didn’t sink in yet. Your kind. The butler of Club Daemon. 

No wonder he took his time pouring the blood into your chalice and looked at you like you’re some kind of revelation. If the cups in the room smell only half as delicious to him as they do to you? He has admirable self-control just standing there at the carpet without losing his mind.

You shift forward on your seat — as does Yukhei, unseen to you. Almost automatically, your tone becomes more tense.

„So what happened?“

„I didn’t know my entire family history until that point. I was orphaned,“ Taeyong expands, his mimic controlled. „The clan was all I knew. I never thought I could have any demon heritage. Literally any. For decades. Until my father showed up. It was…I didn’t know he was that far up the hierarchy.“

Your jaw drops. He has to be kidding you. That can only mean one thing, there’s only one person he could refer to.

„You met Satan personally?!“

Dead silence in the room. You could hear a pin drop. In fact, an elven hair strand.

„I wish I didn’t,“ the butler finally says. With a more silent voice. You can tell he has to cave in, force himself. „He gave me this.“

Taeyong begins to slowly loosen his tie. Taemin already averts his eyes. The butler goes on to reveal a left collarbone so scarred, you can’t bear to look at it for very long yourself. The tissue has been deeply torn. The bone, presumably broken twice, healed in an odd way on top of that. You feel the pain in the very same spot within your own body.

Taeyong doesn’t have to tell you that the altercation left his arm fully paralyzed. You just know, like you could sense his presence from far away already. Meeting his father changed his life forever in the worst way possible. Now you understand why Taeyong does the butlering in the club — he can keep his left hand behind his back at all times.

„His father rejected him,“ Yukhei says, sterner than ever. His anger has faded, and an extreme seriousness begins to sink his brows.

„It’s that — Neither my clan nor demon folk really want me present,“ Taeyong’s face is even more barren of an expression now. He’s bottled it all up, it’s hard to watch. It sounds like he hasn’t spoken about this for years. „This was the only place I could go at that point. Yukhei was very helpful. I hope you can feel the comfort of being accepted here like I do.“

„I… don’t understand why Satan would disapprove of you so much, Taeyong.“

„Some demons willingly get together with vampires,“ Taemin steps in now, careful in his intonation. „But Lucifer rarely does. And, only when he’s drunk. If you ask him on a normal day, and I know this sounds harsh… he despises most of pure vampires, and half-breeds even more so. He is also Yukhei’s father.“

„He is?!“

Now you’re almost falling off your chair. That Yukhei’s father must be one of the higher-ups in the demon ranks was already a no-brainer, but this —

„Idiot cast me from hell the second he found out I can grow these longer than his silly horns,“ Yukhei points at his mouth, baring all teeth now. Even in their natural shape, they’re already razor sharp, sporting clearly prominent fangs. Even your canines, and those are hardly used and worn down, aren’t as slicing as his. When he says he can grow them that long, you fucking believe him.

„He’s… not been the most accepting dad to say the least,“ Taemin folds his hands in his lap. “And doesn’t stick up for any mistakes.”

„’Cause he’s an insecure ass,“ Yukhei makes a disgusted grimace. „Fucks around and then gets mad at what he’s done. Vampire girls he sure likes when he’s doing one of his stupid orgies. But not the consequences. He’s so easily threatened. That’s almost funny.“

You’re stiffer than ever now, glued to your seat. Not in a million years did you think there was some serious family drama going on behind those fancy suits.

„So that’s why this club exists. Satan can’t handle us,“ Kai adds, kneading his thighs. Looking much more detached, almost demure. You can tell that Taeyong’s speech hit the underbelly of everyone in the room. That even Kai looks so sunken catches you off guard. „We’re half this, half that. I mean look at us. Yukhei and I could never be part of a pure wolves pack. Never. We can’t mingle with demons either. They doubt us in any place. Shitty situation.“

Damned if you do, damned if you don’t. Now, the double head emblem on the embossed door makes a lot more sense. It’s not just for the aesthetics. Two faces going into opposite directions. Always torn. Always the onlooker, yearning from a distance. Unable to go in either direction. Seems like you’re in the right place. Or the wrong one: Because you bet this assembly is the very eye of the storm.

„Why did Satan not try to attack the Club yet? Isn’t there even a stairway to hell in this house?“ you ask. If Satan got pissed off by Yukhei’s or Taeyong’s abilities, several people of that kind in one place sounds pretty much the ultimate provocation. Installing a designated hell door with smoke all around even more so. 

„He sure wants to,“ Kai shrugs, again, smirking in this very distinct way. He builds himself up again, and the teasing undertone in his voice strengthens back to normal. „But he’s afraid and doesn’t know about half of us. You see… Hellboy has no way of gauging what expects him. Even if he fucking hates us and wants us dead in a ditch, whatever. We know him inside out, too. Even more than he knows us. I’m sure he doesn’t want to face Taeyong now that he’s not young and weak anymore. He only exploits way down the hierarchy. He knows he can win there.“

„Makes… sense. Sort of— preying on vulnerable people.“

That an insecure hell boss is the reason this very club has formed? Seems to be a better explanation than you thought. No way so many species could stick together otherwise. How you’re in a room with two high functioning, protein-powered lycans both standing over six feet is already a miracle. Just sitting there sipping your bloody drink. There’s even an elf guy. That’s some surreal shit, even Salvador Dalí wouldn’t believe it.

„And, um. Saying that there’s a hell door is a joke Taemin pulls on every recruit,“ Taeyong scratches his head now. 

„Everybody thought that Mark was vaping but he actually put up a room difuser down the hall,“ Kai adds. „He’s using essential oils in there since a couple weeks. So sometimes we do have some fog round that area. But there’s no actual stairway or anything. It’s a club tradition... a hoax.“

Your what-the-fuck expression must be hard to beat right now.

„Er. All right then. So much about hell smoke.“

A whole damn prank. Taemin is not as angelic as he looks, is he. Still part demon, after all. It really felt like there was an entrance to hell around when you arrived here. Taemin’s little giggle right now doesn’t worry you as much as Yukhei’s grunting.

„So much about a hoax,“ he growls back. „I wish we actually had that door so I could go beat his ass.“

High functioning, protein-powered lycans with daddy issues. You never thought this club had major drama. Your lips think its time for another comfort sip from your chalice. Blessed thing you have that one. Because all this… got you into something bigger than expected. Eating shrimps on a terrace with some fellow half-breeds on a cozy Sunday evening? Nothing of that kind. Rating Christopher Lee movies and signing up on vampire tinder together just for fun? Nothing of that in sight.

„So, naturally. That we can recruit you is a good feat,“ Kai continues. „You might grow very strong in training.”

“Strong in training?”

“Vampire half-breeds are always up for a surprise. You see how Taeyong is like. He can open jars even I can’t crack. With just one hand. Long as we have a balance of power with hell, the Club is quite safe. Even from my father.“

Looks like what you got yourself into is a Cold War that coincidentally involves people from Down Under — but it’s not Australians.

„Are you Satan’s son as well, Kai?“

Kai shakes his head quite firmly. Just how stark his face structure is becomes visible when Taeyong puts a candle into his vicinity, helping you gauge Kai’s outline much better, which is a bit more reassuring. The butler seems to almost read your thoughts. Your initial shiver gladly has been in decline ever since Taeyong spoke up. And you do believe he can open those jars.

„My old man? Mammon.“

„Mammon? Ugh.“

You can already guess what this is all about. You don’t need to wait a second for Kai to go on a rant.

„He’s a fucker, fucked up, a fucking twat, and fucks around even more so than Satan,“ Jongin kicks his left foot, looking mighty grumpy in the candle light. „I’m sure you know what he’s in charge of. He likes fear and chaos. To say the very least.“

You sure can imagine. Mammon governs the most powerful resource on the planet. Or rather, what people do with it, so… you already don’t have to know anything more than that.

„Talking about him is of no use,“ Yukhei intervenes. „Lost cause, wasted time. What I wanna say is. The vampire clans also don’t know much about us either,“ he now points at you. „That’s our advantage. And the reason why you will have to quit most of your regular life if you agree to be a member. Or take a serum that will make you forget about meeting us. At least, up to the point where you received the letter. I know this is quite a severe change. You can imagine how discrete we have to be. Given everything you heard.“

Yukhei looks dead serious.

Well, alright then. The case is clear. This is legitimate big business.

Club „Most Hated Half-breeds“ Daemon. Outsiders, all of them. The first rule is: You do not talk about Club Daemon. A guild for the All-Transylvanian Rejects, the crossovers from hell gone hiding, the MIB of supernatural creatures. And all just because big daddy Lucifer loves to host an infernal orgy every now and then and never heard of a condom. It’s crazy. So much information intake, it’s time to sort your thoughts.

You take a deep breath, let the blood chalice dance in your cupped palm. Sweeping the remaining liquid at its very bottom, rhythmically. Sweet lifeline. You observe how the drops run as if nothing else in the world existed. And still, you have crystal clear hearing, and your voice is again becoming firmer. It’s the effect of the drink, you can feel it. Such good stuff, really.

„It’s not that I didn’t anticipate it. Taemin said something along those lines when we met. I get why you have to be discrete,“ you hum. Even telling you about the serum before any other information would give away too much. „I’d be back to square one anyway.“

Taemin nods at you.

„We’ll always be between elves and demons, mermen and demons, vampires and demons, werewolves and demons… This club wants to protect anybody who’s caught between chairs. We go to great lengths with secrecy. I hope you will join us in our cause. It’s a new life. Lucas has great plans for us.“

‚Lucas‘ seems to be Yukhei’s club nickname. Taemin appears to confide in him a lot even if he will smooth out his blunders. Meanwhile, you remember how Taemin talked to you about his own parents on the balcony. 

Apparently, none other than Beelzebub is Taemin’s father since over ten centuries. His latest habit seems to be blowing up his son’s phone with strange texts about recent hell politics. If that’s not enough, he asks about what he’s doing all day. It really is a new level of hell-icopter parenting. No wonder Taemin learned to be so appeasing in all situations.

„There are also ways of us finding out who your parents are,“ Taeyong comes to rest his right hand on your shoulder. Carefully, as if asking if it’s okay to touch you. You let him, without much care. Simply by— well, what is it, instinct?

Particularly Yukhei seems to observe this moment with much intent. Monitoring with piercing eyes, wild and deep. Trying to see through you at all cost. Surveying whether you’re a suitable club member, fair enough. But you seriously begin to wonder why he’s trying so damn hard to get into your head. He wants you on his side, sure, why’d he stare like that all the time?

Meanwhile, you don’t even know much about yourself except that you find veiny necks extremely appealing. Duh. So what’s there to analyze. You’re still kinda new to this. Blunt how Lucas is, wouldn’t he tell it to your face if he knew something you didn’t by now?

„At least, your demonic heritage,” Kai finishes the butler’s thought. “It’s not an easy discovery, however.“

Taeyong’s hand really does comfort you. But the thought of involving yourself in family affairs feels more than daunting and spoils the moment more than you want to. It’s something you could avoid until now thanks to simply not knowing much about your background. But apparently there’s no way to run from it.

„You might wanna anticipate that shit,“ Kai cracks his neck from side to side, then adjusts the sleeves of his white camisole. You’re suddenly so very well aware that he can probably see and smell your hesitation from a mile away. „Because when pa from hell shows up to see what’s going on? Preparation is better than being sorry. You gotta know who you’re dealing with. Art of war 101.“

Kai pointing at Taeyong’s battered left side reminds you all the more that lifting the veil is probably better than hoping for the best. If Satan happens to be your dad as well, you’re in huge trouble should he ever find you. Kai is right. Without allies and any knowledge of what you’re dealing with, you’d be lost.

Not to mention that Taeyong and Lucas would be your half brothers. Among probably a thousand other people. You didn’t walk through this door to get instant patchwork family. It would be a whole town of siblings now that you think about it.

If Satan has been even busier than that, which you’re sure of, that could mean an entire nation of people related to you somewhere overseas. Most of them being far from half-breeds. Why? Because Satan still preferred his own kind if he wasn’t completely hammered.

„Sounds like a nice prospect,“ you mumble, arms tightly crossed. Thousands of demons all out for your neck. Joining a notorious club network would certainly hide your identity much better than you hanging out in your small apartment in the middle of nowhere behaving like an average citizen. Glorious. You hate everything.

Which one person, as always, disagrees with.

„He makes it sound more dramatic than it is. Especially in this club you are more secure,“ Taemin softly adds, swiping a blonde strand from his right eye. „You must understand. Kai is in charge of defense. We all have our tasks.“

„Figured as much.“

„We all specialize in something we’re really suited for. Depending on our species, usually,“ Taeyong picks up Taemin’s point, and you begin to understand.

On the balcony, Taemin had even mentioned a gryffin member who worked as the designated club driver. Mister Ten as they called him, who was always out and about for a gazillion tasks. From hell mail to picking up tailored suits to doing the shopping to frequenting hospitals and various butchers for… leftovers.

Taeyong being an older vampire would require very specific blood (type A respectably, whreas you preferred O), and both Lucas and Jongin are in their wolf prime. Kai being slightly older but all the more active by the looks of it. So, just like Baekhyun, Ten seemed to be busy tending to that all the time, nowhere to be seen nor even mentioned. Which was a little… suspicious. 

But the ‚everyone has a task‘ seems to be a big deal. And: Everybody is set up to take their spot very seriously, in their supposed element. Being the VP suits Taemin just like being the butler really suits Taeyong. Even Yukhei, you admit, has the exact leading, head-on personality, although mixed with a lot of tempers, that his position would require. And Kai — his body doesn’t lie. Of course he is in charge of defense.

„We would strive to find out your ideal role in the club, too,“ Taemin says. „Kai thinks about this scenario from a combat perspective, but know that cases like Taeyong’s are extreme ones. We’re used to this but you don’t have that struggle. It’s probably like different worlds at the start but don’t let it phase you.“

You exchange looks, and Taemin gives an empathetic nod. His face is really gentle. It seems trustworthy. Again, you notice how his diplomacy helps you the most right now. It’s a bit cryptic, but it’s the type of classy conduct you were expecting to find in the club. You’re damn glad he’s here. Half-elves simply have a different kind of wisdom.

„I guess,“ you look at Taeyong. „It’s an extreme case because he was part of a clan, right, and I wasn’t.“

„Smart,“ Taemin takes up a porcelain cup from his own table and guides it to his lips. It appears to be some sort of elven elixir inside of it, light blue and sparkling. Maybe that’s the source of his maturity or something. „This is exactly the reason how so much conflict was possible in the first place.“

„Right.“

„You grew up with adoptive parents after your mother’s passing. It was unfortunate but also a hidden feat of luck later on,“ Taemin balances the cup between his elegant fingers. „Nobody from hell could find you. You didn’t show many abnormal traits. Nor were you close to any clans that fostered your abilities or spread the word. But especially the former. You grew up in human ways. Your abilities weren’t worked with.“

„Which we can do for you now if you want to,“ Taeyong clears your table off the empty goblet. Instead, he puts a booklet with a red ribbon around its hard cover just there. „In a more covert way that doesn’t arouse any attention.“

„Can we really do it so secretly?“

He really did read the concern out of your face all over again.

„Yes,“ Taeyong emphasizes, then directs his gaze toward the fireplace. „For any half-demon, half-vampire, this is the place to develop herself. We want to honor both sides and work with it. As good as we can.“

„All other approaches usually fail because they’re one-sided,“ Taemin raises his tea cup indicating towards a thoroughly disgruntled Yukhei. You get what the elf wants to say by that.

Yukhei — another extreme case, perhaps the most severe. From a certain perspective, you can imagine how being antagonized by his father and wolf packs at the same time would motivate Lucas to run a club like this. And what would motivate him to act like this, anyway. 

Leading Club Daemon with a velvet gloves approach? It’d be more dangerous than an iron fist mentality. Although it feels so clear to you, past the nebula of the blood cocktail, that Yukhei completely turned this aggressive style into a hyperbole. But you never know what or whom he’s doing it for.

Even at such a young age. You are convinced he really can’t be anywhere near 30 years of equivalent human age even if his height and way of dressing makes him look so settled. His overall presence on top of that: Whatever training they have to offer, it must be compelling.

At this point, you can only say to yourself — fuck everything. And lords knows the whole club is green of envy. No wonder they’re staring at you like that. You grew up so unbothered, your life is a joke compared to theirs. You were ignorant about way too many things about yourself. Looking at how everyone here embraces their origin, not developing your abilities was a full-on heresy.

„I’m actually considering it,“ you browse through the booklet, directing all attention in the room at you so keenly. Taemin sits at the edge of his seat himself. The paper feels luxurious between your fingers. As a first page, the name of who assembled the booklet’s contents is printed in bold. Mark Lee, conscierge, Club Daemon. 1999 edition.

The text details several time lines, diagrams, and fact lists about vampire-demon halfbreed history, on top of outlining a program featuring traits that a club novice could develop. 

Sprouting and care of demon wings. Usage of blood banks. Defense against crosses and garlic. Cities with high vampire populations. Types of claws. The culture of hell. Demonic Spells. Battle Gowns. Impact of ‚Twilight‘ on public perception of Vampires. Symbolism. Vampiric Reflexes. Christopher Lee Movie Analysis. Avoiding Exorcism. Communication with hell hounds. On Hunting and Forests. Fist-fighting Lucifer. Evolution of Ancient Vampire Dress Codes. Fang safety. Hierarchy of hell. Nutrition. Choosing a castle. Strength development. The list is nearly 200 bullet points long.

And the majority of training, it states, is supervised by Kai. Even the lessons on Vampires and Sexual Relations. Other lessons are conducted by Taeyong and Mark, mapping the more theoretical contents.

Most of the listed training units feature things you never knew you could possibly try let alone perform. Some lessons are even more vital than you thought they would be. Things your apartment life wouldn’t have to offer in the very least. At this point, walking out the door would be a grave mistake for an entire variety of reasons and you trust your instinct. The only thing that makes you bargain is not the elephant — but the big and bulky alpha wolf in the room.

What to do about Yukhei. 

Given the hardliner choice between serum or a complete new existence, it’s a question you’ll have to postpone. Interestingly enough, even though he was lycan through and through, Kai doesn’t bother you nearly as much anymore after the initial shock effect faded.

So what is it about Lucas. Even more things you’ll have to find out, then.

You’re nervous with the booklet in your hands, but you can’t complain. The two cups of blood in your system have given you more courage to look the four of them in the eyes.

„Considering what: Joining for the cause or the heritage?“ Yukhei crosses his arms at the solar plexus. His eyes are so probing on you, but you keep your head straight. You very well know that he’s testing you with this one.

„Both. And I want to know my role, too.“

The president seems to ponder for a bit. Then, he hums. More placid than before, you note. He actually seems satisfied with that answer.

„Then let’s start out,“ Kai rises from his seat alongside Yukhei, and both walk towards the red curtain in big strides. Taeyong sweeps it to the side, revealing a heavy door to another room.

Unlike the rest of the house, or at least the parts you’ve seen so far, this area has no embellished walls or ceilings. Not a spark of luxurious colors, either. No dark materials, no curtains, no dutch paintings, just concrete everywhere. It looks heavily worn, but strangely, doesn’t seem to be a relic like the fireplace room’s wooden tiles. All lighting is purely artificial. It seems part gym, part studio, and all furniture is solid metal, minimal, angular. You’d never expect such a modern, plain grey room to be anywere around the house. It smells like a damn hospital in here.

„Our training grounds,“ Kai paces around the area, clearing it and turning a knob that seems to activate floor heating. „The second safest place in the manor.“

„What’s the safest one, then?“

„We have a bunker downstairs. Flood-proof, radiation-proof.“

And Satan-proof, you don’t have to guess.

„Oh wow.“

„It’s unused so far when it comes to catastropes,“ Yukhei roughly pulls off his tux jacket and hangs it over a steel chair. Given how he stretches his arms, you figure it’s to gain some mobility. Or… to show off his huge build to impose his authority and intimidate you which surely is working. „But we do run it as a makeshift jail.“

„You’re keeping criminals in here?!“

„If you’d call Kai a criminal,“ Yukhei raises a brow.

Now you understand. The bunker is actually not meant for somebody else unless the situation calls for it.

„You’re isolating yourself during full moons.“

„You got it,“ Kai nods. „Nothing gets in, nothing gets out. Two days. I got used to the cold down there. And Yukhei locks himself in here with a pile of meat.“

„I…see.“

So that’s why the concrete walls look so damaged despite not seeming that old. If you look close enough, it’s actually not hard to imagine how there’s massive strength and claws at work here. And there must be plenty of things to desinfect afterwards. Hence the hospital smell. 

But then again, Lucas is not the one who gets put in the bunker downstairs. If that one is the safest room, Kai is in all regards the strongest. Which makes sense given his task here. But something about it makes you shift from one foot to the other. If Kai has to jail himself in an atomic prison, what a fucking beast are you even dealing with?

So this is with who you’ll train with, then.

„Nothing you’ll see anything of,“ Taemin clasps his hands, bringing your mind back to the image of meat piled up all over this room. „The member’s private rooms are way up on the 3rd floor. You’ll be situated there as well, in whatever free room you choose. They are very pleasant suites. The interiors are selected Victorian antiques. It’s not like around here.”

“Thank you, Taemin. That sounds great actually.“

“And— we can always predict their transformations without failure.“

„The suites have steel doors as well,“ Kai adds on. „Easy to lock from the inside. We’ve had centuries to think all of this through.“

„Reassuring…“

„Mind you. In case you feel you get a bad craving, you’re doing the same thing Kai and I do,“ Yukhei re-ties his left shoelace, foot placed on the metal chair like a 6’0 Napoleon. „It’s not like we aren’t the only people who have to protect others from ourselves.“

You don’t like the tone he’s striking and try not to look into his direction. As if you’re some crazed vampire lord with a body count and not a bloody amateur. Whatever cravings he’s talking about, it’s hard to imagine how you’d go absolutely buckwild on a concrete wall whining for blood.

„With half-vampires, well… It can happen,“ Taeyong helps Kai pull off his jacket as well. „But lycans still have to take more prevention if I may add. Simply because their whole being transforms and they’re gaining unexpected strengths from it. Vampires hardly do. Our strength is present always. We naturally learn how to deal with it each day. Lycans have exponentional and way more erratic powers in a shorter period of time.“

Now that puts it into perspective. You exchange a thankful glance with Taeyong. The butler gives a composed smile. Yukhei sees that and huffs. Looks like someone’s been projecting.

„We’re dealing with threats from the outside, better check the ones from the inside,“ Kai says, shrugging. „We can’t change that we’re aggressive species but we can lock a door ten minutes before shit goes down. Early risk detection. That’s gonna be a lot of what you’ll learn in the programme anyways.“

„Pragmatic, I guess,“ you scratch your chin. 

And he’s right. There’s nothing else the members could possibly do. Unleashing someone outside of the manor into the surrounding woods sounds like an overall bad idea. There’s a town somewhat nearby, fifteen minutes down the road. And as a matter of fact, you’ve never heard of suppression pills for half-demons on the market. Each species would need a different concoction: Tailored exactly to them in a long chemical process. Given the variety of Satan’s harem, that equals pure scientific madness.

Yukhei cracks his neck, puts the steel chair back in its spot. „We hope so. What reasons you’ll have to lock your suite for we’re about to find out.“

Three minutes later, you’re face down on the center table of the room, Yukhei pulling off your blazer. Even if you thought it would be much more unceremonious, he seems to do it rather slowly. In the meantime, Taemin rings a little silver bell. The sound is shrill and obnoxiously piercing. Seconds later, the concierge enters the room with a clipboard, introducing himself fully now. 

Oh shit, you almost forgot about the owl guy.

„Mark Lee. Bookkeeper, treasure master. Half-goblin. I also do our finances.“

Joining the club officially unlocks a whole new level of information, does it.

„Bookkeeper, I see?“

„Yes, we do keep a secret chronic.“

„Oh, alright? Spanning for how long?“

„Older than this house. I’ll introduce you to the archive next week, in fact. Welcome to Club Daemon, Miss. I’ll be documenting the findings of this test.“

Then, he turns to put down your phone on another table. First you missed it, now you don’t even care. Mark’s sudden appearance has you all wondering. He’s different now. Maybe his initial silence was very much connected to the exact level of secrecy Taemin has been talking about.

Mark comes across much more high-spirited when he talks, and his face appears youthful once it comes into motion. You give a little ‚mh’ as a rather distracted reply, and he begins a lightning fast scribble on his board, using a golden pen that looks like it’s worth your apartment.

Meanwhile, Kai’s interest seems to gravitate entirely to your shoulder blades. He goes about tapping the skin and muscles surrounding the bone, even pulling down the backside of your tanktop by an inch, causing you to hold your breath. He circles the spine, presses too fingers in at either side. He’s surprisingly subdued, but still quite hands-on. It’s not hard to feel that he has experience with examinations like that. In fact, Kai has the touch of a modern day chiropractor. Whatever you should think about that you don’t know yet.

It makes sense he’s in charge of all things physical. And — that the first thing he’ll do is get your wings to grow and work, wherever they may be inside your back right now. Lord knows what kind of reflex or trigger is needed to make them sprout. Mark, in full haste, keeps on checking off boxes on his board and hums, cocks his head every now and then.

Yukhei only seems to care for another area altogether. He holds up your ponytail to take a closer look at the back of your neck. You glare at him for pulling at your hair more than you thought was needed. Taemin volunteers to take up that task instead, with Yukhei going on scanning the nape. His hands are so large and grip at your shoulders, it feels like you’re some kind of prey being handled. Taeyong has no problems reading the discomfort on your face and clears his throat, prompting Yukhei to slack off at least a little.

„It won’t be anything painful,“ Taemin says. „We’re looking for any birth marks to appear.“

„Birth marks?“

„It shows up when other demons or half-breeds are around. It usually gives away who you’re related to. The color and shape show which rank your demon parent had. Not to worry.“

You chant a little thank you, Taemin inside of yourself as a way to keep yourself together and nod.

„Yukhei and Taeyong have large black markings that resemble a lighting shape if you will,“ Mark now speaks up. „Taeyong’s is so noticeable, he always wears his hair past his shoulders. And Yukhei mostly uses a high white collar.“

How fitting. You didn’t expect anything else if you’re honest.

„So I should cover it as well, right?“

„You shouldn’t tie your hair up this way so it can be seen,“ Kai says. „You can be glad it hasn’t alerted anyone yet.“

So… that’s why Yukhei did not seem to be very happy with your ponytail. You’ve been utterly reckless without even knowing. If there was someone who didn’t think it was a tattoo, you could have caused some major issues. But before you can apologize, the president already shakes his head.

„Well. You can keep that silly hairstyle. Because there’s nothing on that neck where there should be something.“

„What?“

„Not one mark. I’ve pressed every spot, there’s nothing. The birth mark should be visible already anyways since we’re here. Our presence activates it.“

Commotion. Yukhei lets go of your neck, Taeyong begins inspecting the area very hectically instead, joined by Kai. Mark seems to be in the most confusion right now and gnaws on his lips.

„But Baekhyun clearly said she has demon descent!“ Taemin interjects. „He sees such things the best!“

„Baekhyun… Little fish only wants her here because he has an eye on her,“ Yukhei grits his teeth, looking like he’s ready to kick the steel chair into a corner. „Swims around and invites anybody he fancies long as they have some decent fangs.“

„Yukhei!“ Taeyong cuts right back.

„I knew something wasn’t right,” Lucas keeps shaking his head, now seeming even more convinced. “Not a drop of demon blood in her.“

„What are you saying!“

Taeyong’s stoic face is turning livid now. You never thought he could turn this angry.

„Stop kidding yourselves. Get the serum, Taeyong. All that jazz we’ve been doing… I’m fucking tired. I told you it wasn’t my idea to invite her.“

Yukhei curses an entire string of very canine-sounding things under his breath and Taemin tries to hold him by the shoulders. The whole room feels like it’s about to explode. Taeyong doesn’t look like he’s ready to comply in the very least. Instead, the butler starts baring his fangs with a defiant snarl. Mark shouts out loud.

„Don’t—!“

„Are you deaf? Get the serum, bloodsucker! We’re not playing around anymore!“ 

Yukhei begins grabbing Taeyong by the collar. His eyebrows start to become fuller, and his teeth begin to crack, growing rapidly. Taeyong, eyes turning blood-shot, fastens his left hand behind his back. He positions himself to bring forth a powerful fist about to shatter right through Yukhei’s face. Alongside Taemin, you struggle to get up and reach them in an attempt to hold them apart. But before either of them can strike out—

„Wings! Her wings!“

Exclamations from all sides. Everybody turns to Kai. Panicked, he rests his hands just inches over your kidneys. Mark screams, loud enough to make Lucas shift his attention. Meanwhile, Kai gestures everyone back to the table.

„Here! Look here, now!“

Incredulous, Yukhei lets go of Taeyong’s suit and jumps right beside Kai. He pulls up your tank top to expose the lower back completely. Mark drops his board and pen. Yukhei’s hands roam all over the area that Kai mapped out through the fabric. And yes. Now you’re feeling bumps there, too. A painful tear pools at the bottom of your spine. The adrenaline of the situation didn’t make you realize.

„They… they’re unusually low,“ Mark chops his words, eyes wide and crouching behind Yukhei as if petrified.

„That means they’re large,“ Kai puffs out. „Look at the color, too. White, grey. They’re spotted in red. I’ve never seen anything similar. As if they’re bloodied.��

You can’t believe your ears, wind on the table. „Spotted wings?! What’s that about?“

„It’ll be even more visible when they’re spread. They’ve been hiding really fucking well down there,“ Kai says. „It’s very unlike any wings of ours. And I can’t get them out, all we did was locate them now.“

Great. You have special snowflake wings.

„Really?“ you’re pretty much staring like Mark yourself now. Kai affirms.

„It’ll take a trigger event that sprouts them. I don’t know what yet. Too early to say.“

„But what does the color mean, then?“

„Our wings are all some kind of… well, auburn. Neither Satan’s nor Mammon’s children have colorings like this. Only Taemin’s are blue.“

„But that’s regular for elves,“ Taemin adds.

A churning knot of panic seems to grow inside your gut. The fact that Yukhei keeps on groping about your back is starting to tug at your nerves as the cherry on top.

„Why, why are they like that? What is this?“

„Y/N,“ Mark inhales sharply. „Please calm down, we only—“

„And why are you touching me like I’m some kind of science object? Who am I?“ you shout at Kai and Lucas, prompting Taemin to slowly pull away both their wrists from the table. In this moment, you could jump either of them.

„I’ve, I’ve only heard of one case with such wings,“ Mark begins, but ends up choking up a cry. He’s shaking all over, takes his glasses off. „If you… turn her around…“

Yukhei doesn’t have to be told twice.

„So her mark is elsewhere? Isn’t it? She’s from a different family altogether?“

Mark nods.

Lucas swiftly flips you on your back. You can’t even blink and you’re already watching the ceiling with five faces right up close above you.  

„Let Taeyong do this,“ Taemin begins to urge Yukhei. „Lucas, you shouldn’t touch her now.“

That you need Taemin’s words for Lucas to hold himself back is starting to bother you. Him just grabbing you by the hips and turning you around felt more than strange. You imagine how in his mind, you’re probably a sizzling steak in a pan that he wants crispy on both sides and you don’t like it. One thing’s for sure: You’re not here for being werewolf dinner. What the hell.

What’s been on your mind even more is that Kai is not even half as annoying despite being so full of protein himself. With his chiropractor hands all over you on top of that. Is it that they’re from different families? Wouldn’t you dislike Taeyong as well then? He’s from the exact same corner of hell, after all. What exactly makes Lucas so pushy to you keeps on preoccupying everything you thought of until now as a bottom line. It’s not like you can ask him directly why he behaves like an asshole.

Three minutes pass. Lucas has stepped back from the table, watching like a hawk. A bit more composed, Mark picks up his pen and clipboard. He still can’t concentrate on writing. Taeyong gently probes each of your legs and ankles, even pulls your shoes and socks off to look at the underside of your feet. Finding nothing, he moves on to survey your wrists by smoothing over them, sending Yukhei an evil eye for grinding his teeth. Looks like someone doesn’t like others touching your soft spots.

Kai watches reactionless, seemingly deliberating. He’s in a different headspace, you can tell. Taemin helps Mark with ticking off boxes on the paper. Taeyong turns your jaw to either direction and slightly upwards to inspect the underside. He glides two fingers over your temples, and also asks you to open your mouth. He counts through your teeth with his digit and moves your upper lip to look at your fangs. Taemin emits a large ‚wow‘ when he does, and Yukhei growls out loud. Kai looks visibly interested, although he still seems to piece something together in his head.

„Extremely durable and angular,“ Taeyong says. „I’ve never seen this shape.”

„Me neither,“ Kai props up his palms on the edge of the table.

„Nobody in any clan I knew had fangs like that. Not even the elders. They’re so sharp… it must be inconvenient often,“ Taeyong requests a measuring tape from Mark who pulls it out of his left suit pocket.

„It is. Shreds every toothbrush,“ you mumble.

Taeyong glides his finger all across your gums above both canines, pressing on the root of each tooth. It seems to get a nerve inside your jaw going, and again your breath becomes shallow. He measures, dictates the unintelligble results to Mark. For some reason, you find whatever he’s doing strangely pleasant. Meanwhile, Lucas has been prowling around the table with a heavy gait. You adapt Taeyong’s method of sending him eye daggers.

„Can you put your story-telling on halt? This isn’t some vampire underground bar at Friday 12 PM,“ Yukhei grunts back at you and Taeyong. „Just say whatever the fuck this means. Shouldn’t you search for the birth mark?“

„Can’t quite tell now,“ Taeyong, sounding rather absent-minded, goes on counting through your teeth each. He’s feeling about like it’s a box of jewelry. 

Beside being an obvious difference to what your mostly human high school mates sported — if you could call them that, high school makes everyone inhumane — you never thought your fangs were anything out of the norm. There weren’t many people you could compare them to in your small home town in the first place. You only saw vampires on late night TV at best.

There’s a strange tingle that spreads across your body now. It’s unusual having someone so comfortable with your teeth.

Your first and last boyfriend headed right for the door when it came to kissing. As if stung by a hornet almost, a complete change of mind. Meeting you at a festival he thought the idea of dating a vampire was „pretty sexy!“. He paraded you around at his birthday party two weeks later, you thinking he was actually proud of you rather than only himself.

You later realized that he just wanted to appear like the bravest guy in the world. To gather his guy friends complimenting him on the ‚spicy catch you got there!“. And maybe, you suspected, also making the female guests compete for him with some one-upmanship towards you. If he needed you to attach any value to himself, what value did he have himself to begin with? It still feels like a bad decision because you said yes to someone like him.

He liked the exterior, but doing the actual dating with all that it entails he had seemingly underestimated. It’s not like you expected him to use any tongue or try a blowjob. Why would you?  Doing that would always be a stupid idea for both. Did he think you would purposely hurt him? Or did he just leech off everything he could get until he had to be responsible and deal with limits? Crazy vamp is what he last called you, and you never heard from him again. No texts, nothing. Does your pussy have monster teeth, too? Just go back to your cave or wherever you came from.

„If you forgive me saying so. They really are pretty,“ Taemin chimes in, then urging Mark to note something down. You take a moment to realize he means your teeth. Mark seems to have a lot of trouble snapping out of his daze at first himself, but begins to immerse himself in sketching and documenting after a while, ruffling his hair like a mad scientist. Lucas regularly gazes over his shoulder and you can tell he’s one grumpy wolf.

„We can show you how to keep them in shape and do a proper bite on someone who agrees on it. But you probably even tried something along the lines, right,“ Taeyong says, and Kai nods, probably wanting to say the same. It seems to be nothing out of the ordinary going by their expressions. But the question makes you more nervous than you actually want to.

„Honestly, I… didn’t bite anyone so far,“ you shake your head, unable to meet the eyes of anyone at the table. You hate the feeling of shame that kicks in almost by itself.

„Come on folks, that’s the first thing you smell about her,“ Yukhei boldly announces from his wandering spot around the dumbbells. 

Way to go. You realize how comments like that are exactly why you’re so nervous. He’s already acting holier-than-thou again.

„I only ordered cheap blood online,“ you try to muster a shrug. Acting indifferent is at least helping you to say literally anything. „All legal but artificial.“

And disgusting, but that’s another story.

„Not hard to tell either,“ Yukhei laughs out. „Takes a blood virgin to down a whole liter of the real deal in five minutes. You were staring at that cup like you’ve gone mad. The difference to cheap blood is quite intense, isn’t it? Wanna see your face if you get a willing neck for the first time. Priceless.“

Something coils up inside of you. Eye daggers aren’t enough at this point, are they.

„Don’t get rude, you dog… Do you like spying on others or what?“

„Come on, come,“ Taemin steps in, ushers Yukhei towards the steel chair.  He leans in, speaking in a low tone to the president. „Little more tact and privacy with a novice. Your dad would thoroughly enjoy this.“

„Would enjoy what?“

„Us creating discord in the club without him having to do crook a single hoof.“

You’re starting to think that ‚Vice President‘ means nothing but ‚group counsellor‘. Fine by you, but Yukhei has been rubbing you the wrong way from the very start. That he tried to attack Taeyong and called him names isn’t something you’ll just ignore. You’re growing increasingly more tense. That there doesn’t appear to be a way to take matters into your own hands is even more frustrating. 

„I think… there’s a reason you’ve been living a more isolated life than most vampires,“ Kai interrupts your thought as well as the ongoing banter, trying to strike a more rational tone. He returned from his thought process, ruffling the long hair at the nape of his neck.

„Okay—?“

„See. Most half-breeds with the same father will find each other. Almost automatically. Look at Taeyong and Lucas. And all vampires will get picked up by clans, their scouts. But in your case… I think you have been purposely avoided. By both clans and demons.“

„What does that mean now?“

„My theory is, I… I suspect. Your father,“ Mark looks up from his clipboard, „is someone who hasn’t exactly been Satan’s ally.“

„My dad is — some kind of, Lucifer’s enemy?“

„Maybe. It’s likely. So, the clans would use to trust your father lot.“

„Does that make any sense?“ you frown at Mark, who hastily continues. You still don’t get why that has something to do with how you grew up completely uninvolved in clan affairs.

„His affinity for vampires was much higher on top of that, unlike Satan.“

„Get to the point!“ Lucas taps his feet on the concrete.

„I, I think that’s why you were born,” Mark carries on, pushing up his glasses. “He got together with a vampire. But he has been mingling with a lot of arch angels as of recently as well. Your father, I mean.“

„Okay? But how would you know?“

„The reasoning is this,“ Mark reads from the clipboard. It seems like he has been working on some kind of theory. „The clans don’t like the archangel’s power nor their politics. And the angels don’t really like us as a club either. Simply because we’re half-demons and have offsprings of Satan among us. I know that’s, that’s really complicated, so—“

Whoever Mark means in all of this word spill, your father is evidently a huge trainwreck already. Who’s against who now? It’s all so hard to understand.

„That all doesn’t sound very good,“ you grumble. „Are you sure your theory holds true, Mark?“

„It all sounds like he’s pulling that out of thin air,“ Lucas says. „Angels and whatnot. That’s some random bullshit.“

The conscierge looks rather overwhelmed with your question and can’t quite get a word out at first. Taemin encourages him with with a little supportive eyebrow raise.

„What I know is. By the signs your… body has. We have to keep you safe here and build your strengths at all cost. Because something’s going on,“ Mark eventually continues, earning strong approval from Kai.

Then, Mark addresses the president, much more fragile in his voice, but still secure in his judgement. „Lucas. If we give her the serum, Satan could someday get her if he musters up the courage and the helpers. Which I think he will. That won’t end well in any scenario. The club is in danger. Do you understand? Putting her out there is a bad idea and she doesn’t want it either. She wants to be a member and that’s instinctively the right thing at this point. Baekhyun happened to spot her now out of all times with good reason, I think.“

Lucas seems to ponder back and forth now. He props down on the steel chair with crossed legs, palms in the back of his neck. He looks genuinely concerned for the first time. You find yourself starting to nod along to Mark in the meantime. You like when he speaks like this. 

„Thank God you’re here then, Y/N,“ Taeyong says. „It’s important you get to know more about yourself. It creates a lot of chaos otherwise. For you the very most, unfortunately. We have to admit that joining the club probably makes it worse. But we can’t know what would have happened if you never found your way here.“

„Yeah, I guess.“

„Your heritage is probably much more… controversial I would say. I hope you don’t take this to heart too much,” he continues. “We’ll still have to find out more. But it’s something else we’re not accustomed to so excuse any crudities.“

You can imagine. If your dad is yet another person having beef with Satan, and there’s even people from heaven involved, things are bound to get icky.

„So, where is my birth mark, then?“, you exhale, voice growing with an acute panic. „Do you know my father’s name or not now? 

“Um...“ Mark stares at his own feet.

“Is all of this a fraud? And what can be more controversial than having Lucifer as your dad?“

Taeyong and Mark are looking at each other far too awkwardly not for you to notice. Kai crosses his arms and sighs out.

„Come on, you two are suspecting something. Tell us.“

All attention is now on Taeyong and Mark who are a puddle of sweating embarrassment.

„We have to… Well…“

You feel like a patient about to receive the most embarrassing surgery. Yukhei roams around the table murmuring and fuming.

„What is it now? What are you avoiding?“

„…pull up the shirt to see the birth symbol,“ Mark spouts in one go. „It’s located in the middle of the chest.“

So here’s the reason for all that tiptoeing and stuttering.

„And I thought you’d need my period blood to paint an ancestry sigil or something,“ you roll your eyes right at Mark who looks like he’s sinking into the ground right before you.

„That’s actually what we wanted to do next,“ Yukhei licks his fangs. 

Taeyong, as if lightning struck him, immediately kicks him in the back of the knees. Everyone turns their heads. Judging by Yukhei’s awkward, reaching step forward and no signs of retaliation, Taeyong has some serious leg strength going despite being so lithe. You never thought you’d see his butlery composure begin to crumble either.

„Stop making weird jokes. You’re a dog just like she said.“

Taeyong’s tone is so cutting, Mark breathes out as if he was the one getting kicked.

„Technically not wrong.“

„You got what I wanted to say, Lucas.“

„Can’t hear you mumbling through your stupid old fangs, brother. I’m fucking proud of being a dog.“

Yukhei does an even more obnoxious werewolf-brand wink that makes even Kai cringe a little. Taemin looks like he’s slowly dying on the inside. 

While they’re all continuing to throw out retorts, you cut the debate short by pulling up your tank top. Must be the courage from getting your teeth praised.

Today’s braless day, but anyways.

Mark immediately starts crouching again, and Kai’s mouth drops wide open. Taeyong collapses right on the floor. Taemin buries his face in his hands.

„It… It is as dramatic as Kai said!“

„What is it now? Can’t you guys handle some breasts or what.“

You look down on yourself. And— soon freeze as you see the large round marking right on your solar plexus. Red as blood and crudely outlined.

„What the fuck is that!“

You get goosebumps. The mark has never been visible before. Whatever work Kai did on your back pressing all sorts of points, it must have activated not only your wings, but also this particular spotting. It appears to be shaped like a medal emblem, depicting a snake and a centaur or whatever creature in bold zigzag shapes.

„The sign of King!“ Mark shudders through his tears. The temperature in the room seems to drop, and the scent of jasmine smells like rotten coal. The sign glows red and large on your chest, and not even Yukhei is looking at your breasts now.

„We’re so fucked, man!“ Kai pulls at his hair. „What are we gonna do!“

„Wait! Wait, what is this!“ you pull at Mark’s suit, urging him to speak on. He can’t properly gather himself the very least.

“I can’t say—”

“Tell me, Mark! What is this sign!“

„Be, Before Lucifer… became the prince of the underworld. It was like this.“

„Like what?“

„There was a King who ruled the 9th circle of hell. For over a million years.“

„Who is that guy? He’s my dad?“

„Yes. He never left. That was, until Satan overthrew him after being cast from heaven. The King purposely decided not to come back and expand his influence elsewhere. He’s now a free-walking spawn of hell. The guy who’s technically… actually the boss. Satan is just tolerated but The King has the actual powers. You can guess… look at how large the mark is.“

„I am the King’s daughter?“

„You are,“ Mark contines. „The daughter of King Belial.“

He can hardly pronounce the name without everybody flinching.

„He’s the original guy in charge,“ Taemin bends to help pick up Taeyong, who’s breaking out in a cold sweat. Whatever is glowing on your chest, it’s something out of the Club’s league and that thought alone drives an equal sweat on your face. Belial, you’ve only heard that name sparsely, somewhere, and you knew hell had kings, but you didn’t know it was a very real tale.

„Satan was expelled from heaven for his pride,“ Kai picks up Mark’s point, but his voice is just as shaky. „So he took on hell and drove out your father after a decade-long war. And, plenty of tricks, dark magic. The King first settled in a radical vampire clan who thought he’d be the ultimate weapon to get back at Satan. And Belial thought he’d had an army now, too. But the arch angels also took interest in the King for that same reason. They wanted to fight Satan, too.“

„Didn’t Mark mention the angels earlier? What’s going on with them?“

„They don’t like vampires, so they lured the King away from the clan to only collaborate only with them.“

„So there’s a triangle going on!“

„Belial hasn’t really retaliated or done anything since then, but we’re thinking that he’s plotting something big together with God,“ Kai continues. „Against anything demonic that they set their eyes on. Not just Satan.“

Your head is spinning. Now God’s involved in this shitshow, too. It just gets worse with every new thing you find out.

„The foe of my enemy is my friend. That type of idiot logic,“ Yukhei says. „And Belial was stupid enough to fuck a trash vampire in the process. And you… are the result that we have to deal with now.“

„As if I can help it! You shut your mouth!“ you jerk up to lash out at Yukhei, but Kai steps in between you. He’s as fast as he is strong, and an impenetrable wall you can run up against all you want. And Kai isn’t foolish, either. He grabs you by the shoulders with extended arms to keep your fangs as far away from him as possible. All Yukhei has to do is step back.

„Stupid— because that got your mom killed,“ Kai says, teeth gritted, but sounding much more sensible than his stance suggests. „You gotta understand. Satan wants to eradicate or silence anyone associated with Belial. To avoid a revenge and losing his position!“

„Then you’re right that he’s a prick…“

„My damn words,“ Yukhei shrugs behind Kai, adjusts his tie. „Now put your tits back and sign Mark’s form, you’re part of Club Daemon without further notice anyways.“

„Wha—“

„Now listen closely madam,“ Yukhei burges past Kai to build himself up above you.

„I’m not gonna say this a second time,“ he throws the blazer at you, and you awkwardly catch it. Kai steps out of the way to let Yukhei step even closer to you. The grit in his eyes is too commanding, untouchable. Mark backs off against a wall, and even Taemin gives up on stopping Lucas. Only Taeyong lingers close behind the president, surveying his every move.

„Since Satan is an illegal worm on the throne and the King prefers to sip ambrosia with God, you happen to be the only legitimate heir. The literal, official ruler of hell. And as we saw, giving you the serum would cause even more trouble. You might even get used against us or yourself. You get me? We have enough trouble and craziness with all this! Do you understand that? From now on: You’re doing exactly as I say.“

„Why are you the one to declare all that now? Yu—“

„No objections. Training starts today.“

————————

„Your wings are so nice,“ Baekhyun smiles, turning twice in his bath tub. The water gently rises, bringing some foam to the corners. If you squint a bit, it actually sparkles. You’re feeling laid-back with the scent of fragrance sticks and candles lingering in the bathroom now. Tangerine, a bit of lemon. A pocket-sized music box strums away on the sink. The melody is foreign to you, but it feels nostalgic and welcoming. There are almost a dozen shell-shaped metal soap holders all around and pointy quartz clusters frame the two mirrors on either side of the room, creating an endless loop of reflections. Yours excluded, which always seems to amuse Ten even if he’s already used to it from Taeyong by now.

A snugly dim lightbulb screwed into a large pink lamp shade right above you spreads some warmth, as does a fluffy carpet underneath you. The vapors of the room become visible as little ascending particles in the light and you wonder how hot the bath water must be. Unlike the chairs in the main hall, the one you currently sit down on cross-legged is meant for comfort solely. A pink and poufy 50s relic, put there specifically for you since it’s Friday.

„Ah…Baekhyun. I forgot you see them for the first time,“ you settle, while he turns again. You find yourself laughing at how cutely Baekhyun spins. That this is the way mermen express their excitement and adoration you learned only last week.

„And, your fangs have grown so big!“ His cheeks are bright and giddy, and his tail glistens from all the soap he tossed around in the water for almost half an hour now.

„I’m on my 50th day of training now.“

„Ooh, that’s so impressive! You’re doing great for sure!“

„I don’t know if I do. But there are some results at least. Kai made me fight Yukhei with bare hands and they came out,“ you wriggle your either wing, and make their tops touch the ceiling. Ever so slightly, you don’t want to break anything around here. Baekhyun’s little bathroom paradise is too carefully assembled to pull any stunts in here, and it’s your Friday night safe haven for long talks and even watching movies on Mark’s tablet. Now, it doesn’t take a lot of stretching to do so in the first place. At this point, wearing your wings out this way is starting to feel natural, even if the way that they shift your balance is still new. They are red-white and stringy, feathery, and spotted just like Kai had predicted.

„He was in his full form, right? You’re really brave you did this.“

„It’s a strange thing sometimes. It’s like I followed an impulse.“ you say, shrugging a little. „I guess — Blame it on instincts.“

You really hoped he would buy that dodge, but it’s a futile try.

„Hey, I mean it. I’m proud of you. Really.“

You push a few hair strands out of your eyes. He’s not going to let you off the hook until you admit it, or maybe it’s only you so fearing to say that, and making it so awkward that he notices.

You don’t want to bare yourself but also don’t want to leave him in the dark about how much his words have been building you up over the last few weeks. It’s almost been two months since you first saw Baekhyun on Mark’s video call, discussing where to relocate the club chronicles after a shelf randomly collapsed. Even a fraction of him on screen made you hold your breath.

Maybe it’s because a whole lot of your ancestors were — although surely snobby and even aristocratic — so bite-first-talk-later and rather reserved folk staying in the shadows that accepting or never doubting flattery is hard for a vampire of your generation. And maybe it’s time you muster up something else than either extreme end of that aristocracy or that terrible shyness.

„Thanks for your compliment,“ you stare at the tips of your fingers that clamp around your knees. „Matters a lot, okay.“

Baekhyun props up his head on the edge of the tub in response and looks at you all blushed. He’s playing with the blue crystal penchant around his neck, and his light purple hair falls into his face in wet little waves until he shakes it. The strands are so thin and plush, they prop up all dry again so fast, as if by magic (which it likely is). His cheeks are so glowing when they’re rosy, you notice every time you see him, but today even more so. To the point where, and you feel it in your gut, your confidence becomes so shaky all over again.

„But don’t praise me too much,“ you say. „It’s only doing what I’m supposed to do and what I’m made up of, I think. It wasn’t that hard.“

„Not as hard as defense against crosses and garlic, isn’t it?“

„Damn right, that was something ese,“ you nod. „But there are much bigger problems.“

„Is there something that preoccupies you as of lately?“

Baekhyun blinks a few times with a falling smile, and you contract in your chair.

„I feel like… It’s so hard to say.“

„I won’t hold anything against you, okay. I just hate seeing you preoccupied night til dawn. That’s not right.“

„It’s…Yukhei is treating me like some kind of tool. Just fostering me because that means a hybrid demon sits on the throne of hell. It feels too much sometimes. Like I have to dance to the beat of his track all the time, you know.“

„I’m sorry. Lucas can be really zealous. I hope he’s not demanding too much from you.“

„Or… training me like a machine. I’m really not a dog’s toy. I don’t think that’s what made my join all this. I don’t have as many problems with my heritage as with the way he takes so much control. It’s… one-sided. And I feel like I should be above that already and just do my thing anyway.“

Baekhyun’s expression sinks even more now, but there’s also something single-minded in it.

„As long as you truly wish to take that position in the 9th circle, you can do as you please,“ he says. „Look at how strong you are. I don’t even have to tell you that. As I know him, Yukhei wants to protect his kind. Including you, that’s why he trains you so hard and wants you to have influence. I know it’s an ironic thing. That you have to be his subordinate now to be his superior in the future. He sees himself as a founding father, so he coaches us. His strict ways are not for everybody.“

„I guess,“ you shrug. It doesn’t sound illogical to you. Having a half-breed in charge of hell would raise the status and safety of Club Daemon immensely, and Yukhei does behave like the club is his child. „I just don’t like it when he uses his position too much without caring about how I want to go about it. I know I’m new to this, but I still have preferences. And the training is for my sake, he’s the one who emphasizes that the most but it feels like it only serves him. Telling him that is like, like— talking against a fucking wall, I don’t know.“

„That doesn’t sound good. I think that you inspired a lot of respect in him. Lucas is afraid of many things.“

„I feel that.“

All too often. When he trains you. At dinner. During any hand-to-hand practice. And especially: On Fridays, where he is tense all day.

„That the pack order is so wired into him doesn’t help. There’s always only superior or subordinate to him, he doesn’t know anything else. The social order of vampires is less defined than that.“

The roles, the hierarchies. You often find Mark talking about it.

„I try to understand it but our ways are so different. I don’t know what it is. Yukhei should know that vampires aren’t responsive to this alpha thing the very best. And I don’t think anyone in Belial’s family for that matter.“

You’ve seriously been wondering how Lucas was donning his big bad wolf attitude. That he was intimidated behind all that jazz would come as no surprise to you. But this type of explanation would be too… simple. Too easy, for all those intricacies, the weirdness of his behavior.

„If you look at it from what he does rather than what he says. He spends a lot of time developing your skills and puts all of his energy into the project,“ Baekhyun’s gaze drops from yours now. „To be honest… I’m jealous of him.“

Now that makes you swallow hard. It implies way too much for you to process right now.

„I don’t, I don’t think he likes me,“ you vehemently shake your head. „Or at least not in a way that feels good to me. And that’s what counts. He’s making me grapple with hell hound holograms and box with Kai until dawn under his supervision. I’d rather be here and discuss with you. It’s really valuable.“

„Ah… thank you.“

Now that you’re on a roll, saying it is easier.

„I’m really glad you were the one who scouted me. I really wish I could be here more often. And, you put a lot of effort into this. You think it’s just talking but it’s important for me.“

The last part you say with a much more subdued tone, but it doesn’t lose its meaning to Baekhyun. That he looks flustered is an understatement. He wriggles his shiny tail and it actually changes its color to light pink, matching his flush.

„You know, it was more of a coincidence. I was counting shells at the beach, I saw you coming out of a pharmacy at the quay. I haven’t told you that, have I?“

Back in May. A very breezy, sunny late afternoon.

„Taemin said something along those lines, but not in detail, no.“

„You had these huge sunglasses on. And so much sun screen. And a big hat. You came out with six packs of iron supplements and cranberry juice in a transparent plastic bag. I couldn’t quite believe it.“

„You really saw it that clearly?“

„Merman eyes can see even in murky water. Kai has trained me to read people at any distance on land.“

„And how did you see that I’m part demon?“

„You had a crop top on.“

What?

„I mean. Come on. That half-vampires like crop tops is clear to me. Taeyong is wearing them all the time. But don’t other people do that as well? Isnt’t that a little—“

Baekhyun starts giggling.

„The sun was hitting your back while you were opening the lock of your bicycle. I could see the wings folded underneath your skin.“

„Oh man,“ you puff out, reclining in your seat. And you thought he was going for a reach. „Okay, I get it. I hope nobody else saw that.“

„It can easily look like some kind of tattoo,“ Baekhyun shrugs. „At least someone who has no idea about demons wouldn’t have realized anything. And it was only visible for a split second since you weren’t standing upright.“

„Okay… that’s good I guess? Just me walking around in a crop top at the bay. Nothing suspicious going on.“

You’re ready to chastize yourself for being so careless, but then again. Arguably, you don’t have eyes on the back of your head. And on top of that, it took someone as trained as Baekhyun to discover your sleeping wings showing in a matter of one blink or two.

„It’s likely that your wings only started growing this very year. I really need you to realize. This didn’t happen in twenty years. I was never as fascinated in my entire life, I—“

And by saying that, Baekhyun’s pupils become heart-shaped, and pretty much everything else about him turns bright red. The hair, the tail, the lips.

Oh.

Looks like you’re starting to understand why Baekhyun didn’t just casually mention you to Yukhei to send out an invitation, bar half-breeds being a rare occurance and highly sought for by the club.

„I called Taemin with my shell phone right away so he could inform the club,“ Baekhyun stutters on. „I’m sorry we’ve been observing you that way. Many half-breeds don’t know that they are.“

„You didn’t do it to hurt me,“ you shake your head, gather yourself, and take Baekhyun’s hands in yours. They’re so pretty and slippery. „You don’t have to apologize. It’s been a lucky coincidence.“

He saw you in the right moment and it decided everything.

„I’d not be here without you, that was very needed,“ you add. „Lost and found, you know. I gotta be the one to say thank you.“

Baekhyun firmly squeezes your hands and looks you deeply in the eyes, even more so than before.

„We’re the ones who have to say that,“ he says. „We didn’t have many good prospects before you. Maybe we can have a better chance being half-breeds in the future. Don’t think of yourself as Yukhei’s chess piece. That takes away all your importance. I think he’s trying to tell you that, too.“

„Maybe. But just know that if he’s so invested in me the way you say, I couldn’t reciprocate it.“

You look down, retreat your hands. Baekhyun reaches out of the tub to cup your chin upward very gently.

„This whole werewolf-vampire feud thing,“ he starts in a low tone. „You don’t have to buy into it. It’s not good for our club’s unity.“

You cast down your eyes. „I know.“

„If we fall apart, that makes us very vulnerable to the outside. It’s important that you stick together, and… he really likes you.“

„Baekhyun—“

„You have an easier time with Kai, right. If you approach Yukhei the same way, that… could be beneficial to your bonding.“

„Bonding?“

You don’t like where this is going. All of your alarm bells are going off right now. There’s cold sweat starting to stick to your shirt at the back of your spine.

„It’s kind of an unspoken codex,“ Baekhyun sounds much more understated now, his eyes become droopy. „If there is a female half-demon with claims to the 9th circle, a mate from the guild may accompany her. But it has to be someone from the upper rank.“

„What!“

„Yukhei is the highest in our hierarchy... He might become your consort. He said to me he’d be ready to do it.“

„Yukhei as my mate? How do I know nothing about that!“

The shock in your voice makes Baekhyun rolls up in the bathtub and his tail turns into a lifeless green. You’ve never seen him so small.

„Because… because he can’t say he likes you.“

„I beg your pardon?“

„It’s all bound to happen because of his status, and yours, and— As I said, it’s an unspoken law. It doesn’t really matter if he confesses or not.“

„Are you kidding me now?“ you jump off your chair. Your wings knock over a ceramic vase in the bathroom cupboard right above the sink. It comes down splintering. „Why on earth does Yukhei push me around like some political… genetics… preservation tool!“

„It, it is not the intention—“

„I don’t want to mate with Yukhei! Not because he’s the president, not because I need some fitting husband apparently, not because he spends a lot of time with me, not because of his money or because he cares a lot about preserving half-breeds, and especially not just because he likes me.“

„You— You don’t?“

Baekhyun’s eyes are wider than when Mark first saw your spotted wings, well-knowing he was dealing with a more delicate subject of the chronicles. But this was something that would turn the annals of the club upside down entirely.

„We’re not compatible. Not in the least,“ you frown. „Did you assume I did?“

„Of, of course! I mean in your position, who else would come to your mind? It’s such a given from both of your sides, I didn’t… even think about it. Please, I didn’t want to offend you!“

You settle on your chair again, fold in your wings. Cross your legs, lean back. An overbearing feeling of depletion makes your whole body ache.

„You know. That’s the thing with tradition. Nobody thinks about what they actually want. They just follow a program to satisfy some stupid custom. To soothe their ego, their morals, I don’t know what. But that leads them in the opposite of being satisfied. Because it’s against their real wishes. Doing away with quite a few traditions without causing much damage would be entirely possible, wouldn’t it.“

„I think traditions do serve someone,“ Baekhyun shrugs. „Many people.“

„In this case, only one person. Hint: tall lycan man who wants to fuck me. And take me as a wife which I didn’t even know until now. And how would I if he’s yelling at me about putting away my tits as if I’m some chunk of trash.“

Baekhyun stutters, decoiling not one inch from his position.

„Didn’t he do that in front of others?“

„Yeah, but why are you asking?“

You can’t help but put some sharpness into that reply. All that mating monkey business is reeking of bullshit.

„Lycans are, well you know it. Really possessive. He wants you for himself, he… he’s affected by your body. Everyone can see that. So, everyone automatically thought he’d just, sooner or later make a move on you, you know. You’ll be exclusive to him.“

„You really think that Yukhei is territorial over my fucking tits.“

„On the outside he was acting grumpy that it was a half-vampire coming to us out of all races. But he sent out Taemin with the club invitation letter in a matter of a day. The fastest he ever wanted to get someone to join was when I scouted Ten as our chauffeur. Ten had all the qualifications and he’s half-harpy, they get on with lycans very well, but Yukhei was deliberating for two weeks.“

You shake your head.

„He sent it out because the club direly needs extra manpower, a new element, whatever, that’s why. He literally said so.“

„Yukhei ordered to send out the invitation only when I told him that you’re a good-looking… woman.“

You’re gasping for air. Can this get any worse? This has got to be a bad joke. It sounds like Yukhei literally wants to own you.

„Is he— that desperate?“

„He’d not mate with any full-lycan or half-human half-lycan, or humans altogether,“ Baekhyun shakes his head. „And how could he, he’s the president and protector of the only demon half-breeds club there is. Anything else would be out of character.“

„So me being in need of a mate because of all this heir thing… serves him well and he’s already planned all of it and treats it as a given in the club. All behind my back.“

You could rip out all your hair at this point. You curse him. This dirty, sneaky, cunning wolf guy.

„From his perspective, it makes sense. Nobody else in his shoes would do it differently. He didn’t mate at all yet. We respect that he will take that only chance because he has the last say, you saw that. If a lycan runs a club, we go by lycan ways.“

All you can do is plant your face on the edge of the bath tub and puff out a deflated noise.

„So I’m the only fuckmeat in sight. To get rid off his virginity.“

Oh God, no. This has got to be a terrible dream, even the club’s chronicles pre-1689 aren’t as tragic.

„Yukhei’s instincts are going crazy since he reached maturity. Kai already mated earlier in his life and takes Beta status. I guess that’s why you get along a little better. But with Yukhei… he’s so depraved, he’s even ready to mate with a half-vampire.“

„I saw how hostile he can get with Taeyong…“

It still pains you. That Yukhei would go at him with full fangs and claws even if Taeyong is so severely marred was a punch in the gut. You don’t doubt Taeyong’s strength, and you saw he was ready to defend himself properly and resolutely. But it showed a lot of true colors and you thought about it for many nights.

„Exactly. That he said he’d be your consort tells you how much he needs somebody. He’s even ready to bury the rivalry and also contests anybody of your race. Taeyong is competition to him.“

„Jealous possessive alpha looking for a trophy,“ you bury your face deeper in the enamel of the tub edge. „Baekhyun. I fucking swear. You’re giving me even more reasons not to get with him. He’s even dragging Taeyong into all of this.“ Taeyong, who made you feel so at home and comfortable with being half-vampire. Who was very open with you and had exactly the integrity and dedication and utter class a club member needed to have. A confident, quiet strength and rolemodelship that you could always look up to.

„So talk about unity,“ you grit on. „And I’m only tolerated to Yukhei. If I’d be a guy, he would’ve sent me an invitation after like 5 years, wouldn’t he? Yukhei cares a lot less about halfbreeds than he pretends. How would I get with this guy if he’s such a mess. Never ever.“  

„You actually wouldn’t?“

„Come on! If that’s not clear at this point. No degree of Yukhei wanting me means I want him. Man, what the—! He’s planning my life as if it’s his factory. He’s making chaos out of everything.“

Hell, Yukhei must be more than insecure if he reached that level of entitlement. And you only get to hear it from Baekhyun? He’s not just insecure, but also a coward. Just how much he’s living in his own bubble is hard to fathom.

„But, it’d be an honor for you to be with the president. Is there a reason you don’t like him back?“

„Baekhyun. I don’t give a fuck about his arranged marriage thing. He has no respect. I want someone else.“

„I mean, I… You’re free to choose from the assembly. You’re the Queen of Hell. You can do whatever you want.“

„Apparently not.“

You cock not one, but two brows right at him. Baekhyun seems entirely confused. It’s so strange to you how he doesn’t seem to catch on in the very least. Yukhei really must have threatened the other club members. Nor does he seem to take your role seriously in the very least.

„Is there someone you want to mate with, then?“

„First time someone ever asked.“

You straighten your posture and tap your fingers on your knees. Admittedly, you’ve probably picked that one up from Kai.

„The guild accepts any of your wishes. It’s just a recommendation or a tradition that—“

„Yeah yeah. A dumbass expectation. Disguised as some… guideline. And everyone’s parroting it just because Yukhei is the boss. I don’t like that, okay. I’m not on board with his personal agenda. Because it’s shitty. Full stop. I’ll shove his bonding schtick up his ass until it comes out of his ears.“

„Ah, I, I see. I get it now.“

„Understand, Baekhyun. Rules have to be adapted to the benefit of those they concern. Are we agreeing on that?“

„That’s only logical!“

„So you get that I have someone in mind that I want to have a consort. That person is not Lucas. You see that the benefit would apply here, that, you know, I mate with that other person instead.“

„Sure! Do you need any help with selecting somebody? Wouldn’t Kai be a perfect match? You’re both so strong! Or Taeyong. You have great chemistry! Mark is very impressed by you, too! Haven’t you seen how shy he is?“

You want to sink into the ground on the spot. It just goes on and on. Man, you need a 500-year coffin nap with extra dust and spider webs and no garlic in the radius of ten kilometers.

„Baekhyun, you, you are… God damn…“

You can’t say it. You can’t.

„Always glad to help,“ a bright smile lights up his face once again. His tail turns back to a very familiar turquoise.

And just when he decoils himself to his full size—

It happens.

„Ah! What was that!“

Baekhyun begins to jerk up and winds. You panic. The surface of the bath water colors with red almost right away. He grabs his tail in pain. You dive either hand into the tub to pull up his tail.

„It’s a splinter! It fell inside the tub!“

„From the vase?!“

„Yes, it’s, it’s…“

„Are you okay Y/N? You look different!“

He seems more shocked about that than the fact that he just got pierced.

„It’s…stuck here. I’ll pull this— out and… and. Very carefully, and…“

Your hands work on their own. There’s nothing in your mind that has to direct them. The piece of ceramic is easy to remove from his scales, nor is the cut too severe at all. It’s not even two fingers long. But he’s bleeding. He’s bleeding. It’s unbearable. You mindlessly cast the splinter into the sink and look at your hands, and the water, and his tail.

„Are you really okay? It really doesn’t hurt a lot!“

„Baekhyun,“ you slide forward from your seat and linger at the edge of the tub, facing him. „I can’t take this shit anymore. Please.“

„Oh my god. Your eyes are going red! Should I call for Taeyong? You’re looking really sick!“

„Don’t you understand. How, how are you not seeing it,“ you clutch at the bath curtain, dizzied, and it’s like you’re seeing double. Baekhyun tries to keep you upright in his arms that wrap tightly around you. But your head has lost all its stability, tipping way forward. You’re face-to-face, forehead-to-forehead with him now, a frantic, salivating mess. Your lips feel so swollen and pulsing, it’s hard to keep them pressed together at all.

„I’m… I’m not sick. I’m not. Hush— Listen to me now, Baekhyun. I don’t want anyone else’s blood. You’re the one I wanna mate with. I want yours. And not just a little bit of it.“

Open mouths. You gape at him, he stares right back. You’re already expecting him to call for Kai to drag you into the serum room. So much about Club Daemon.

To your surprise, he doesn’t. Instead, he begins to blink like he just heard the most incredulous news, pulling away from the embrace. He looks at you in earnesty.

„Why didn’t you just say that right away?“

Baekhyun turns the brightest shade of pink all over yet. „I never thought you’d like me back this way.“

„Really?“

„Of course…“

„God,“ you laugh, „oh God.“

„And who said you can’t drink all you want from me? That’s literally what I was gonna offer—“

You are already shoulder deep leaning into the water with your arms grabbing hold of his tail. Some of the water even gets into your nose and it’s terribly soapy from Baekyun’s shampoo, but saturated with enough blood to knock a tidal wave of adrenaline right through your system.

This is the freshest and warmest you’ve ever had it. It’s feeling like a shark in the water. The lithe red clouds wavering through the tub loosely clinging to your face and lips makes you go weak in the legs. It tastes sweet like actual candy. And it’s so, so… familiar. Being surrounded by all that cherry pink water is better than a coffin nap and no garlic pizza combined. This is way too good. You can be glad your air is running out and the wound begins to close behind scales getting back into order.

„Wow! You can hold your breath for a long time,“ Baekhyun gasps when you surface.

„I didn’t,“ you cough, and take two minutes to gather yourself.  But not exactly because of that much water getting inside of you. Rather, the blood is showing its very effect already. „The wound should be fine, um,“ is all you can say, but Baekhyun only smiles in reply.

„Oh? You don’t look full in the very least.“ he swipes his hands over his wet neck and pats it. „Try it here!“

Oh please no, not the patting and the slapping. It brings all the best veins out, oh fucking no. But he continues to do just that. At this rate—

„Can’t guarantee I’m not getting really horny.“

„Huh? If you’re not I’d be worried. Didn’t you say you want to mate with me?“

„Well… yes.“

„I’m just really honored, I need a little moment.“

„You don’t have a problem with me just… vandalizing your neck?“

„Isn’t that what it’s for? It doesn’t suck itself.“

Baekhyun, with the most innocent little expression, continues just as before kneading into the sides of his neck. His long… tan, glistening piece of art neck. You probably look like a starving wet poodle preying for a bone, and then there’s him in the tub, sparkling like a water god with his beautiful cherry hair and droopy brown eyes.

With every smack on the side of his neck, your pants squarely decide to get a little more soaked. Maybe because it sounds like you’re already fucking. Maybe because his neck is bursting with everything a girl needs. It doesn’t suck itself, huh. And your canines are in best shape because you floss them twice a day just like Taeyong said. Uh oh.

„I’m so sorry I… I think I’ll tear you up.“ Why does it have to be so long and throbbing. His smell is turning your brain inside out and back again. „God Baekhyun, you’re tormenting me.“

„Hey, not fair! That’s your job,“ he’s pouting again, and probably begins to realize he’s been doing more prep than most porn stars nowadays because the kneading stops. Without much further ado, Baekhyun squarely beckons you to climb into the tub.

„Are you really ready—“

„Don’t worry, Taemin is great at cleaning the tiles. He actually loves doing that.“

„I want to make this enjoyable to you, Baekhyun, so…“

„I don’t know, you don’t have to please me or anything,“ he shakes his head. „That you like me is already overwhelming enough.“

„A bite is serious business. I still want you to enjoy it like I do.“

„If you want that. Just, just do it harder,“ Baekhyun wriggles himself up, pinker than ever. „If we’re doing it unprotected… I want this properly.“

Finished off with a shy smile. This guy is making you go times more nuts than the first raw blood you had in that chalice. You start to understand what Mark really meant by recently mentioning how Baekhyun’s parents gave him „A certain inclination“. A well nymph and Asmodeus, demon of lust, combining? That could not possibly create anything less than somebody so enticing.

„Baekhyun, always tell me if I should stop, I, I try to rein myself in, okay. You’re too delicious…“

„My veins stop swelling, just bite already,“ he sways his tail, keeps on rubbing into in throat again with his flat palm. „Just don’t worry. You’d have a hard time draining me. You saw my body just heals itself fast.“

„Yeah. Merman thing. Mark said that.“

„You can also fuck me if you want to.“

„Baekhyun, you really don’t have to offer yourself just because my body is going crazy.“

„But I’d really enjoy it. How aroused are you?“

„In all honesty… Bram Stoker novels level horny.“

„I’m not gonna leave you like that.“

And something in his tone tells you that Baekhyun has it all figured out.

As much as your wobbly legs permit it, you get into the tub more or less elegantly. You already want to apologize for mounting him that way, but Baekhyun squarely sits you down on his crotch with his hands on your waist. That his wrist and knuckle veins have gotten the word does not go unmissed by your tunnel vision. All those pulsing underarm serpentines… leading your gaze upwards, and more, and more. Up, up, until you cannot rip your gaze from his puffy little throat. Baekhyun lets out a content little hum and lifts his chin. You really get the full damn view.

„Sorry teeth, I’ll devirginize you. No more blood oranges,“ you babble to yourself, and you can tell your brain just switched off all inhibition. You never thought you’d be slurring your words about what types of emergency fleshlights you use, all in a bath tub with a merman. „About time I pop my cherry boy.“

„Exactly right,“ Baekhyun proudly huffs, and leans back. With his Adam’s apple bulging out his throat even more, you lose all trains of thought and just grab him by either side of his head. You sink your teeth in as far as the power in your jaw can drive them, and going by how his pulse is beating inside your ears, you drilled them in pretty damn hard. Oh fuck. Beginner’s mistake. A huge gush comes out to spritz against the back of your own throat, and you almost pass out from the incredibleness of the taste.

It’s too much at once. You’re hanging by a mere thread. All your body does is follow whatever its instinct dictates. Grabbing Baekhyun by his hair is all you can keep track of, shoving your teeth right up his throat again all dissipates in a blur because your entire mouth is dripping full with him. He’s moaning so loud right now, his neck vibrates along.

„Yes…!“

You don’t want to be a weakling. And, get yourself to swallow for the first time — but then. regret it right away. His blood melting down your esophagus is like a liquid marriage proposal on the Eiffel tower. You don’t know where the noise comes from, but the birds are singing. Once it’s down your stomach and pooling there, you’re already high as fuck. Grinding erraticly all over Baekhyun’s more than steel hard boner that parts upward through the scales of his crotch. He’s really giving you all the best things.

You bury your whole face in his neck. No more neatness. All you do is let your tongue loose and drag your mouth all over his face, and his chin, and his lips, and his jaw, and all of his neck. Every angle, every side, every nook and cranny until your mouth is bursting full with all of his sweet-tasting sweat and pinkish blood that has thinned out with the water dripping from his gills. If it wasn’t diluted, you’d probably forget your own name.

You melt your teeth into his pulsing skin. A vibrant image opens before your inner eye. You’re getting visions of the beach and you as seen through Baekhyun’s eyes. And then— Baekhyun from an outside perspective, swirling through the water the moment after he saw you walk at the quay for the first time. Singing so beautifully, your ears are ringing and you never want to hear anything else.

His blood is all over your lips and chest, your training print shirt. You admit you’re tempted not to ever wash that thing even if Taemin politely asks you to or Yukhei calls it crazy. You want it to be as sullied as a white shirt can possibly get. What must be your eleventh bite in a row gives you a particularly big shot right to the tongue. It’s so much, Baekhyun’s blood starts running out of your nose, only to get back onto your lips that suck up all that candy right away all over again.

Being all drenched in Baekhyun’s nicely bloodied wonder shampoo water and your own horny leaking shit at the same time, your pussy is double wet and way, way too ready to get stuffed up with all that merman dick. You never thought that he would be any larger than your thumb, but you’re mistaken.

„No wonder Yukhei has been keeping you outside the club so often.“

„You can have it as often as you want, eight times a day, I’ll manage to be there, don’t worry.“

It’s so stiff and glides into you so easily, you groan out loud and loose a whole portion of blood from all that open mouth. It sprinkles over Baekhyun’s little nose and lips, and makes his way down to his belly. The scent is turning your brain upside down. You find yourself hooked on his nose, sucking and licking it with your pussy reaching the meaty base of what’s all the way inside you now. All the precum he’s leaking into you is taking its time, but comes down to cream you up when he starts moving. Really smudgy thrusts from below, several big fat fillings from above that you can have your fun gargling on the back of your tongue. Baekhyun knows what makes you happy. You squeeze every bit your can get out of his throat and plunge your teeth inside of him far enough to feel his vocal chords vibrating during his moans. You don’t wanna damage those. So you decide to switch things around a little and slip off his cock. It’s grown a lot inside of you and peaks out the water still brimming. The whole tub gets a taste of soapy foam mixed with Baekhyuns semen and lord knows how much delicious red cherry juice that you’ve been milking out of him. Oh god, you feel like cumming. You turn Baekhyun underneath you so the back of his head comes to face you, and you bow down to violently bury and seesaw your teeth in his nape like a lion shaking a little prey animal. His little helpless moans are so melodic and out of this world, you do notice you forgot your own name. Well, he can tell you afterwards so, no problem. For now, you made him completely yours. You don’t miss how Baekhyun didn’t reach down to get himself a hand but has grown even harder.

Going by how much he’s been begging you to do your carnage on him, and you’re tempted to ask him, you know for a fact Baekhyun would probably fanboy like mad and ooze his cum all over the place if you broke his neck altogether, but you decide that’s probably way too edgy for now. And too much, hello. His body can heal anything in a matter of five minutes, doesn’t mean you have to challenge it with a clean snap during the first time. That’s a schtick for the later fucks, maybe a birthday. Just when you find that what you’re doing with his little nape all between your jaws is way too sick for a novice, a string of tiny „please, please, please!“ noises spurs you to sink in deeper and even work your tongue just like it’s a french kiss.

„Oh woah, ah! Do it, do it more!“ His pleasure screames and demands for roughing him up leave no second for a pause. At this point, you’re just digging in and he’s all the way close to going off like a bomb. Taemin doesn’t just have to clean the tiles alone, there’s gonna be sperm everywhere. Probably even as far as the door, and that one’s all opposite to the bath tub and four meters away.

Now that you’re so snugly penetrating with your fangs pierced in around his spine from either side, you notice how Baekhyun has successfully corrupted you into a sadistic freak. The more blood seeps into your mouth, the lewder your slurping gets, and the tub water has long gone from pink to very crimson like it’s the type of apples Taeyong loves to test his fangs on pretty much daily just for practice. You swallow again, and this time, a wave of Baekhyun’s sexual fantasies crashes down on you.

Looks like since you’re closer to his central nervous system, you’re tapping his entire stream of thoughts. However this works, it’s giving your pussy severe missing-cock-disease. Drinking and swallowing repeatedly makes the visions even more vivid. The images are so vast and animated, you can hardly keep up. His face, buried between your thighs. His tongue, dragged all over your legs. You riding his tail like it’s thighs. A big gush of semen between your breasts. You slobbering blood all over his cock and making good use of its protruding veins. Images of you cumming and screaming his name. Baekhyun screaming even louder because he can. Baekhyun sucking his fingers and you licking his wrists clean. Baekhyun cumming inside you and everything bursting right out because holy shit, that’s a lot.

You want his dick and properly connect to his lips for the first time now, so you ease your teeth out of his nape, much to his protesting. You cave in and give him another bite, and make it brutal so he begins squeaking and gasping that he’ll cum. Now that you have him there, you can venture a second try and turn him around. Because you’re afraid of blowing up the second you sit on his cock again, so you start with his lips.

Kissing Baekhyun is all you expected and even more than that. Even if you’re so saturated with his blood that your taste buds are on fire, you can still clearly taste how sweet he is. Everything about him is so delicious and he’s so cute. All that pleasant taste and the gentleness of his tongue has you riding up and down his cock in less than a minute. Busy like a New York high rise elevator. Gentleman he is, Baekhyun retorting with his own thrusts feels nothing short of whipped cream consistency fucked into you with a headspin-inducing mega girth. Where he mustered that one from, only Neptune knows.

Since the entire water is ripe with his blood, that can’t go without pumping some of it into you. You’ve never found yourself horny all over your period even if the scent does make you tingle, but now, somebody else’s blood squeezed into you? Your legs feel like doing somersaults. You’re probably asking for too much, but you hope your walls soak it all up, his pre-cum included. Hell, if all that mixture shoots up in your womb, you’d probably be on a permanent high for one week. Who would have thought. This giggly little merman has turned you mad and lawless.

It doesn’t take for very long that Baekhyun’s tongue has been wrecking a havoc of pleasure between your fangs and has started bleeding after deliberately giving himself a small little prick with them, you want to get bursting full with his cum now, you can’t wait any longer. You lost your breath so it takes a few seconds until you can verbalize it, but when you do, Baekhyun doesn’t take even half a minute to have you pussy bubbling with a particularly scented load of deliciously fertile semen.

It’s such a huge amount, you have to hold onto his upper arms. Baekhyun breathes like he’s curently swimming a marathon, and has his eyes closed to concentrate on giving you the best to the best. What makes you moan is just how wildly his cock is throbbing and pumping against your cervix, that girl has never seen an avalanche of white stuff like this, she’s so lucky she gets to see this up close. Baekhyun has sunken so deep into his orgasm, he’s starting to mumble some kinds of magic words. Which seem to be directed at keeping his dick hard and keeping the cum flowing just like that.

„Shit, I want that in my mouth,“ you promptly decide, and pull your all-loaded pussy off, causing leakage all over the water. You turn to prop his cock between your lips, and Baekhyun makes it no secret that he won’t hesitate sucking his creampie right out of you. So while you’re busy sliding your tongue up and down all that veiny shaft, Baekhyun glides his nose and chin between your slippery pussy lips. The stimulation of his tongue has you twitching and stuffing his cock even deeper until your mouth is nothing but filled except a few remaining spots.

His cum is all fizzy in your mouth, it’s the most addictive thing. You decide that all that vanilla ice cream needs a juicy strawberry sauce to top it off. You do exactly what Baekhyun’s steamy fantasies displayed to you. That you lock your horny fangs deep inside of Baekhyun’s cock and squeeze him out by the liter for sperm and cherry milk is already having your eye lids flutter because you’re that stoned. Not to mention that you will smell like candy to the lycans and certainly also Taeyong for at least a whole month.

You’re the farmer, he’s the maple tree, and Baekhyun’s blood the runny, sugary syrup. The mix with his semen tastes like you bite right into a large fresh lemon and melon popsicle. and swallowing comes easy once you got into the rhythm of his continuous little bursts. Your stomach is telling you oh babe, I adore you for this. It’s stuffing full a) with the one thing is needs and b) the other thing it loves. All while Baekhyun’s bloody tongue is having a party on your clit and you can’t help but heavily rock your pussy all slapping up against his face.

The friction is unbearable, it makes you sopping wet on top of already being shot up with a ton of cream. Which now faithfully drops right into Baekhyun’s awaiting mouth and his nostrils along the way. He just snorts it up, gathers it on his tongue, then swallows it down like it’s a mild cold. The noise is so disgusting, it’s so sexy. You didn’t know mermen were this hardcore. You bet your fangs Yukhei can’t do that.

Baekhyun keeps on slurping on your creampie like it’s a desert pudding, and puckers his brazen lips to suck your clit between giving it little kisses and licks. The point where you forgot not just your name but your hometown and birth day is already passed, with Baekhyun indulging your pussy like that, you even forgot about planet earth being a thing.  His petite „Aw pretty“ and „So tasty“ noises have you clenching up and wildy deepthroating whatever impossible length of his dick is still left.

It’s oozing out too much to deal with at this point, so you just let it flow into the bath water. Your mouth being so slobbery, Baekhyun’s cock pulsing in and out of it causes a wet, hollow noise. It’s strangely satisfying and dirty to hear, you just love it. The blood seeping into your mouth makes you spiral even deeper and resorting to drift off into a wonderworld again, blowing big pink cum bubbles while you’re dreaming of Baekhyun in a groom suit out of nowhere.

Swimming at the edge of a pool, he’s stroking your hair and admiring your skin that seems so completely without any veins. Cut to Baekhyun standing in the kitchen with an apron making pancakes, drizzled with what can’t possibly just normal strawberry sauce. He perfectly balances himself on his tail to stand upright, and you’re wearing a Christmas sweater signed by Christopher Lee and Bela Lugosi.

Image three, Baekhyun massaging your feet with his pretty hands while you watch Nosferatu Reloaded on television. He whispers sweet nothings but they mean everything to you. Image four, a big house with a nice water system inside, and on top of that, a really shapely coffin that smells so dusty and snugly by just looking at it, you’re enamored with no return. Oh my god, there’s a moth plague in that house, too, and the garden grows nightshade!

Swallowing the remaining semen, thick and marshmallow-y as it so savoringly is, you shift back to your senses. Shit, that was a ride. You have a hard time letting go of his cock, but he’s not sustaining it with a spell at this point. Rather, it closes back behind his scales. Probably regenerating, you sucked and performated the shit out of it. Preoccupied, Baekhyun is still busier than ever making your pussy his personal oozing face grave, he’s particularly enjoying the digging part with the tongue. You promise to unearth him once he’s zombiefied, can’t let the poor tiny merguy just drown in there.

To think that he could do all the things you saw makes you furiously thrust back and hear his face smack into you. All of the cum he pumped into you is slathered all over his mouth and makes it all the easier to get all the clit stimulation you want from his bottom lip in particular. That he catches a hang of it and moves right along doesn’t help with your arousal. Your entire lower body is so heated and bustling, any south-Texan bat cave is a joke compared to that.

You hardly catch a direct glimpse of what’s going on, but from the reflection in the tiles you can see that Baekhyun’s hair has changed its color to how it naturally grew according to Mark’s seemingly random chronicle recital on Monday. Baekhyun only ever does it when he’s really serious about something and vulnerable enough. You can tell be picked up the pace and makes sure not one lick will miss.

With that level of determination, Baekhyun is sure to earn your moans and shaky thighs after a mere minute or two. You think that because he’s part demon, his tongue is… a bit longer and pointier and stronger than the average merman’s. It’s simply how the genes tend to mix and your clit very well feels that. The way he’s driving in the tip of the tongue in rapid sequences that resemble Ten’s piano suites, you’re tipped over the edge hard enough to grab at his tail not to slip from the massive tremble that rocks you.

Your orgasm rolls your eyes back to places even ghouls could dream of, and the amount of pleasure is so strong that your hearing and vision sets out for a solid ten seconds. You just scream and moan and scream again, and Baekhyun’s face gets one massive cum shower all over again. He’s not shy to move his mouth and head around like a madman, so your cum ends up being stuck in his hair altogether. Through even more frantic sucking and kissing, he seeks to prolong your high for another fifteen seconds of blissed out grinding against his face. You drank so much blood, you

By now, your face must look so blown up with all that cum and Baekhyun marked up so relentlessly, even if his bite marks have closed by now, Kai must think you switched roles going by your scents.

„Really sorry for my big cock.“

„Your blood… does it cause random hallucinations or something of that sort, can you direct it in any way?“

„It causes prophetic visions in some cases, if you experience it clearly as an image it will come true. Did you see something?“

„Um. Lots of things. Let’s say I… liked what I saw.“

„Actually, don’t tell me. I like being surprised.“

„Doesn’t it take 50 years until the egg fertilizes?“

„47, 48 is usual. Mermen cum is really slow but it’ll get there.“

„Nice. Isn’t the firstborn always a girl?“

„Yep.“

„We’ll name her after the song that’s always on the human radio, what is it again. Janine?“

„Jolene I’m thinking. I think it was that kind of song.“

„Yeah, I like that. And in the meanwhile we have some time, do we.“

„We can just go on like that. What are you thinking?“

„Shit, shit. I’ll suck you dry, Baekhyun, you don’t even know.“

„My blood regenerates the fastest among all half-species. Shouldn’t be a problem.“

„And what will we do about Yukhei’s mating drive?“

„Don’t worry. He’ll smell it.“

You pull the bathtub plug with a heavy heart and begin washing Baekhyun down. The blood doesn’t seem to stick to him very easily, which is as unsurprising as you not getting it off your own body. Even with his whatever pricey merguy body scrub thingy thing that’s normally used to keep gills and scales in shape. Resorting to staying bloodied for the day is nothing you’ll particularly hate, though.

Ten minutes later, you find a very unsettled Yukhei standing at the window of your designated club office, not able to meet your eyes for more than a second. In that expensive black tux, and you… in your bathing robe with blood all over your hair, and just a pair of Baekhyun’s sparkling light blue and silver ‚i ♡ dolphins‘ socks he borrowed you. He can’t wear them anyway, but they were so cute that he ordered them online.

Very much naked underneath all that, and water running down your legs in drops, alongside— something that does not feel like water. You already plan to hop right back into the shower and do the rest of the cleaning. The sex is great, but vampire hygiene is a pain in the ass sometimes. The scent must be killing him. You don’t even have to sit down for the word spill to start.

„Y/N.“

„I told you I don’t like you sneaking in here.“

„After working out. And, you know my senses are always heightened after this…“

„What is it now, hellboy. Just cut to the chase.“

„Please let me talk for a minute. I came walking by in the northern corridor,“ he starts out low once again. „You talked about your wings sprouting and you were being open with him. So—“

„You listened to us!“

He keeps his lips tight, not granting any reply.

„Piece of shit, you! You’re an all-round asshole.“

The water contained in a silver jug on the office table goes right over Yukhei’s head. He doesn’t react, lets you poor it all over him stoically. You hope it’s particularly cold. Since the water is silver-infused, it stings him, but he takes it.

„I can’t switch my nose and ears off, even at such a distance. It… it just reeks, alright. I just heard what was going on without intending. The talk, the— I didn’t know what it would develop into.“

„From start to finish. Am I right?,“ you dig your nails into your palms. „And you didn’t just walk off like you fucking should. So stop blaming your ears or what topics we started out with or whatever! You talk about mating behind my back, you eavesdrop, you invade my office just like this. Do you think that’s gonna make me marry you on the spot?“

All the magical afterglow — ruined. You cast the jug into a random corner and prop down at your desk. Yukhei wipes the wet bangs out of his face and turns from the window to face you now.

„I’ll stop with all this. Okay. I don’t want to treat you like a crusade machine against my dad or just to satisfy me. I’m sorry if I’m like you said. I’m just a stupid voyeur. I really didn’t want to.“

Yeah. Of course.

„If I spied on you? You’d be kicking me out in a hearbeat,“ you cross your arms and leave them in deadlock. „And what, you’ll stop what?“

„Training you for your position and fighting dad’s army.“

„Eh.“

„I know very well that’s Kai’s job and mine.“

„No shit, Yukhei.“

„And that we should defend more and not just plan the attack. You don’t enjoy the training as much as the normal recruit. You said you’d rather be talking with Baekhyun and that you chose him as a mate.“

„You’ll change your program?“

„A lycan will respect a no. We’re determined but not a creep. And my nose works perfectly fine.“

„What?“

„I’ll be realistic, I don’t think I could satisfy you like him.“

Now that sounds very different from all he’s ever said. You turn your chair toward him and stare Yukhei down.

„I’m listening.“

„I’m not stupid, okay.“

„Inaccurate, but go on.“

„You’d… bite me once and either I bleed out if I control myself or go wolf when I don’t. That’s lose-lose.“

„So you got that all of a sudden,“ you murmur. Yukhei just keeps on talking. It’s almost a prepared monologue.

„I’m a wolf, okay. I only get it when I smell it.“

„That’s some weird shit but fair enough, Mark says that too.“

„You smell like you had almost nine liters in one go. The whole fucking mansion feels like a butchery just opened. How many times did you bite him, fifty, sixty?“

„As if I’m counting. Do you count down when you drink water? You have it easy, you’re normal when you’re not in the moonlight. I’m vampire all the time.“

„What I try to say is. I don’t boast that much regenerating ability even if I wish I had.“

„And you realize that only now.“

„I came here to be honest. I gravely underestimated Baekhyun. You bit his nape and he really enjoyed it.“

„Well thanks for the information. About my private business…“

Yukhei’s senses must be really sharp to discern all of this. He might have stood in the bathroom in person. And if he knows it, Kai does tenfold if he was anywhere near the house. His senses are time-tested and four times as trained.

„I know that doing a bite like that is a big deal in half-breed… couples.“

„You’d find that inacceptable for me to do on you, wouldn’t you.“

Silence again. You tap your feet. Yukhei ends up nodding.

„To the extrent of how you reacted when I grabbed you by the hair. We’re not much different. Trying to make someone ours. Call me possessive but you’re also territorial. You didn’t just bite his neck tonight.“

„You understand why I said we’re not compatible. then.“

Yukhei remains silent for a while after that.

„The tension between our kinds has a reason.“

„No way. Never thought of that. Totally groundbreaking news.“

„We’d probably kill each other when we fuck. Simply because of what we naturally do. We’re suited for other species. Baekhyun matches you very well with his abilities. I admit that even if it hurts my pride.“

„One man’s trash another man’s pleasure.“

„You’re not trash. You know you’re my MVP here. And Baekhyun is going to please you well himself. He’s not as selfish as I am. He’s 290 years old, he’s very experienced.“

„Your instincts are really dying for a mate, don’t they.“

„Just like you deflate to a literal zombie when you’re not drinking, I can’t go without my pack hierarchy being complete. You go stupid when you sense blood, I go stupid when my senses aren’t challenged and I have to suppress my form. It’s that easy.“

„Now tell me something I don’t know.“

You comb your fingers through your hair. It’s kind of comforting right now. Yukhei comes to sit at your desk now himself, opposite to you.

„I should have left you to your own devices when you picked your spot at the fire place already.“

„What do you mean?“

„We left you seven empty places, right.“

„So that was not a coincidence.“

„We spiked each cup with a blood probe of each member. Enough to emenate a scent, but small enough not to have you figure out which cup belongs to whom. Especially not in a room with so many people was it possible to tell that apart so it worked.“

And of course they put up flowers to further confuse you. It was all planned.

„Did you… you…“

„It was a test. I made it so that if was covert enough and fair to everyone.“

„Fair? What the hell did you do with me!“

„Find out whose blood you like the very most. It was my idea. I wanted to see if I have a chance with you or not.“

„That’s insidious.“

„You picked Baekhyun’s probe right away. And you even drank a second cup. That should’ve answered my question by that point.“

That’s why the blood in the cup was so strangely shimmery. You knew that was familiar when you slept with Baekhyun, but couldn’t connect the dots entirely because there was so much soap in the water.

„And you still kept on talking about mating with me?“

„I didn’t know about your heritage before you came to us.“

„So?“

„That gave me a second chance that I hoped you would reconsider. Because it’s tradition tha—“

You smack Yukhei right across the face with your right backhand.

„Never say that word again.“

„And you said you’re here to tell the truth anyway. It’s a shallow excuse to get with me.“

„I’m not denying that, Y/N.“

„It’s been clear to you who I like since our first words. You’re acting like you can bend me to your wishes. You tested me and knew I wasn’t into you. Why?“

„It’s like when you couldn’t take your eyes off your cup. We’re not far apart with our instincts.

„I never said that’s a lie, Yukhei.“

„You can’t expect me not to get the hots if you’re lying there on the table without your top on. And I already controlled myself. I did my best, alright.“

This man is infuriating. You wish you had more silver water to splash him with.

„Taemin was right, Taeyong should’ve done the examination. Touching me fucked with your virgin head. You’re just hunting some one-sided dream looking for some omega girl that fits into your ideology thing.“

„Well you’re right.“

„Unfortunate.“

„But at the same time at least acknowledge that I realized we wouldn’t fit together. I changed my mind about that prospect okay, I’m trying.“

„That you’d make the worst blood bank ever is already clear.“

„I really wouldn’t.“

„Just know that the next time you’re trying to own me or do your wolf stalking shit. Or try to mess with Baekhyun. I’ll be skinning your hairy back with Taeyong’s 17th-century silver dagger and use you as a mud boots doormat.“

„I’ll control my senses as good as I can.“

„Leave away the last part of the sentence.“

„I’ll control my senses.“

„Ma’am.“

„I’ll control my senses, Ma’am.“

„You’re one desperate little shit. Club president and you need to be trained like a rowdy dog. How old are you again?“

„Last time I checked, 21.“

„Not surprised Kai still calls you a puppy and Ten thinks you’re a giant baby.“

„I say, found your own club if you can’t handle it.“

„That would put it back to square one. The only problem is you being horny for the wrong person, the rest are only consequences.“

„As if I can control what my nose tells me. And you know that the very best.“

„You’re still mad your own test backfired,“ you remember the cups put up in the fireplace room.

„Is it wrong wishing you would’ve chosen my blood?“

„Yes, after I clearly made my pick.“

„Then that’s that.“

„That’s that.“

„So what are we gonna do?“

„You cut your wolfy shit, that’s all. It’s creepy. And don’t annoy Taeyong either. You got me? Just stay in your own lane.“

„If I can.“

„Are you the president or are you not?“

„Fair enough.“

Taeyong rings a bell, and you gather for some tea under the backyard Wisteria. Shrimps are served, and Taeyong even bothered to prepare a minestrone that’s wonderfully dark red. Lucas savagely chews on raw chicken wings, Ten relaxes in a hammock, Mark writes, Taemin knits, and Baekhyun plays in the nearby pool, watching and listening and chatting, upbeat as always.

Kai arrives the very last in his post-jog showering robe, but greets you the very loudest in front of everyone.

„Hey, hey! I heard you waterboarded yourself to get some soapy red juice!“

Some confusion at his word choice, some giggles.

„So that’s been making the roun—“

„Amazing! That’s my girl,“ Kai burst out and pats you on the back so passionately, it feels like a freight train hits you.

„O—okay?“

„That greed is all I ever wanted to bring out in training! Where was that determination when we peeled garlic? I tried every method in the book to get you to that point!“

Awkward silence among the members. Then, some shrugs. Mark seems to be the only one who doesn’t get it. Figures, half-goblins don’t have hyper-developed senses. Thank God, his innocent soul. The club chronicles would be filled with details of you doing all sorts of things in a bath tub because Mark never leaves out anything unless he’s currently dropping a pen out of nervousness. Which doesn’t happen anymore.

„Kai, um… I still don’t think you understand what really motivates a vampire,“ Taeyong scratches his head, with you well-aware that he can smell merman blood across the entire house without even trying himself.

„So, what is it, then?“ Kai puffs himself up, arms crossed. „I’m the fucking trainer of how many species again? I should know best!“

It doesn’t take two seconds for a heated discussion to break out. The Venerable Pyramid of Essential Vampire Needs — which author defined it the most accurately? Which peer-reviewed vampire journals are trustworthy? Which interviewed populace is the most reflective of all vampirekind? Serbia, Romania, Turkey, Russia, Greece, overseas?

Everybody wants to weigh in: Taeyong and Mark at the forefront, with Kai and Lucas saying the exact opposite of what they expertly claim just because. Ten starts trolling them with made-up facts („a vampire’s #1 need is premium cellar dust!“), Taemin unsuccessfully tries to calm everybody down with a theory that considers all perspectives, and the tea gets colder and colder.

In the meantime, you squat down at the pool and muse over Baekhyun’s hair in the wind. You twirl it and tell him he’s gorgeous. He whispers just how good you smell. Why debate about essential vampire needs when it’s all right before your eyes.

Thinking about it. It was all about which relationship was mutual. That’s what the decision had been all about, and yes, it had been crystal clear from the very start. Lucas desperately wanted you, but it was one-sided. Mark was flustered by you, but didn’t make a move, nor did you have feelings for him. Taeyong you loved, but his age and mentor status were incompatible with turning it into a relationship. You understood him, but it was motivated by an admiration — there was a pedestal, which again made it one-sided. Ten was a mystery, it wasn’t clear on either part, and leaving each other guessing was no good sign instead of going about your ways. Kai was a compelling man, but had his piece of cake and aspired to different things. Baekhyun — he loves you and you love him.

A powerful engine revvs in the nearby garage, then, the motor stops. Onto the Wisteria jogs Ten with a huge bag of groceries.

„Hello, hello!“

Everybody greets him and picks their favorite snack from his bag. He really thought of everything. Yukhei and Jongin get a huge pile of meat from the car trunk’s cooling box. As a crowning finale, Ten presents you with the latest newpaper. The front page splayed out on the Wisteria’s main table causes everyone to steer and gasp.

SHOCKING!

SATAN’S HEAVENLY RETURN

Ruling hell too stressful after all?

„Rumor has it the King finally got bored of chatting with God and kicked out Satan from the 9th circle without much further ado.“

„No way!“ you toss and turn the newspaper. Five whopping pages are filled with cover story details.

„So dear horned guy went back to where he came from,“ Ten shrugs, then points at the snapshots all over the newspaper. „I mean look at it. This is all just a big ole jealousy drama.“

Who knows God talked some sense into Lucifer.

„I know that dad was getting envious about the King associating with the arch angels,“ Yukhei says. You start to get why. Satan had the privileges of being an archangel for who knows how long until he reached puberty and rebelled or whatever.

„Doesn’t that mean dad has the throne back now?“ you ask.

„Yup,“ Ten turns to page three, where @king_beli’s instagram feed is filled with selfies of the 9th circle, posing with Sisyphus, and throwing peace signs in a sulphurous-looking throne hall. 666,000 likes after just 6 hours. If that’s not a good sign.

You keep on debating how exactly Satan got kicked out so effortlessly until Taeyong rolls in a little swirly metal wagon after the tea is finished. On top of it: An almost ancient relic that Alexander Graham Bell probably built himself.

„Sir, the Hell Telephone might be a good idea right now.“

„Your turn Y/N,“ Yukhei declines, ushering Taeyong to bring the wagon to your side of the table. You dial and wait roughly half a minute.

„Sorry, I was partying,“ a voice creaks through the old speaker. „How can I help? Isn’t this Club Daemon speaking? Is it who I think it is?“

„Hey dad.“

„It is!“

„Hello. You’ve heard about me, then.“

„Yup yup! That you’re Yukhei’s personal dog trainer is what Kai wrote me on Whatsapp! Did you really pour silver water on him? That’s funny as hell!“

„Oh God.“

„I say that a lot these days as well, man. Sorry, we have some music blasting here by the way!“

„Hey dad, what actually happened with God and Satan?“

„Ah, long ass story. Satan chickened out recently, hell is one hell of a job you know. New job opportunity for me. But you gotta take it easy and have fun.“

„I can tell.“

A spitfire verse of what sounds like Megan Thee Stallion is currently pumping through the telephone. Ten grooves right along in his hammock, smiling way too ominously. You can tell he knows every bar by heart. He’s been listening to the human radio way too much during his errants.

„I’m only stressed because the furniture is terrible.“

„The what?“

„In the years of my absence, horned geezer got a little too creative with the design, you know. I’m more of a romantic.“

„So… you just moved in there just because.“

„You could say that, yeah!“

Confused shrugging among the club members. Belial keeps on babbling and blasting something else at the other end of the line. It must be K-Pop or something like that.

„Talk about romance, I hear you have a mate?“

„Yeah dad, it’s Baekhyun.“

„Oh him? I’ve heard of that guy! The merman!“

„He’s really sweet.“

„Make many cute demon babies alright. That would be so adorable. I’m all ready to cuddle wuddle them. I actually came up with baby name suggestions.“

„Dad!“

„You know, 80 years ago. I met your mom…“

„Dad, I don’t wanna hear your love stories. Rather tell me what happened to mom. What did Satan do?“

„Listen here. That was a stupid rumor Azazel was spreading because he’s a gossip man!“ Belial rages at the other end of the line. „Your mom was 8906, alright. She died of diabetes. You got adopted by humans she found trustworthy and planned to be your caretakers.“

„That was all planned?!“

„You were… a bit too young for hell back then. She wanted to leave you the choice later on in life whether you want to be in a clan or come here, or neither of that. I know being a half-breed isn’t easy. And you should get into all these worlds by your own devices. I learned about all of this only much later you see. I’ve been hanging out in the clouds for some time. It’s pretty chill there. But now I’m happy to hear from you.“

„Yeah.“

„If you got anything you need paid? Rent, marriage, car, diapers? Just ask me when needed.“

„I dunno…“

Looks like your dad is a rather forward thinker indeed. Well, least he thought it through.

„If you need it spontaneously and I’m not available, just force Yukhei to give you some pocket money.“

„I don’t have to force him. He already does that without me even asking.“

„That’s what I call a great president!“

„He literally thinks my bank account is free real estate where he can dump anything. I can’t even manage all that,“ you roll your eyes, with Yukhei grinning his most satisfied smile at the end of the table.

On the more unsatisfied end, Kai is about to jump up and sock him in the chest. You know damn well his salary hasn’t been increasing since Yukhei discovered his unsolicited Sugar Daddy hobby. You can buy Baekhyun some extra cotton candy now, but you’ll have to figure out a way to transfer some pocket money to Kai yourself. Now really, he’s been training the shit out of you.

„Even better! Cheers to him. He’s too straight for his own good sometimes though. Anyways. You can drop by as soon as we cleaned up here. We’ll open the circles of hell completely next month.“

„Okay, that’s good news!“

„Once you get pregnant, make sure you two find a flaming cave apartment on the east side! You really wanna raise your kids here. Hellraiser, get it?“

„The east side is too hot for Baekhyun. His tub water would just evaporate, man.“

„Oh! Then the west side. A nice penthouse with panoramic views on a volcano. You’ll get a baking Pompeii face mask every time you’re stepping out! There’s so much ash raining down, your kid can do snow angels on every pavement. Don’t worry, I’ll pay for everything.“

In the meantime, the party guests are blasting Caramelldansen in the background and louds clapping numbs your ears.

„Dad…. you realize you have a lot of clown energy, right? Do you even hear me?“

„Talk about clowns, actually,“ the king carries on completely unbothered. „Mammon really wants to see Kai too, I think he’s missing him. He’s calmed down a little after the Corona crisis messed with his bank account.“

Commotion at the table. Kai almost chokes on his cold tea.

„That’s unexpected… I thought he’d never do that.“

„Yeah aw, I know,“ your father says. „Satan has spread a lot of fake news while he was here, you see.“

„We’re glad to be welcome then? That sounds like a good idea to meet up some time. Maybe for a day or two.“

„Strike! I convinced you!“

„Yeah, you did…“

„Few of you saw hell back in the day, right?“

„Yukhei, Kai, I dunno who else, Ten I’m guessing.“

Nods from the hammock. Wouldn’t be strange if Ten was a regular hell driver.

„Oh Ten! Greet Ten from me. His instagram is what I aspire to. Ten is the coolest. Even the ghouls I know don’t have that kind of fashion sense.“

„Will do.“

„And— about aspirations. We’ll be talking about your heir thing when the time is right you see, I know you want to know about all of this.“

You perk up, as do the club members.

„It’s a thing for the future. I’m not hellbent or anything,“ you say, tongue in cheek.

„Hah! You’re funny. I see we’re agreeing on this. You’re very busy with Baekhyun, right. Love is priority. Hell later. This place is a lot to handle anyway.“

„…exactly.“

„I know my daughter and I didn’t even meet her yet!“

Taeyong does a little aw noise in the background and even Yukhei has to smile.

„I’ll probably tell the same stories you do and blast the same music in a couple years, I can see it coming.“

„And that’s when you’re ready for the throne. Remember—“

„Gotta keep it easy and make it fun.“

„You got it. Until then, live a tense life man, that’s also needed.“

„Dad, what the hell!“

„I actually mean it. Leave it to your old man to get this 9th circle popping in the meantime.“

You get the image of your father watching youtube music videos all day and trying to keep up with the latest slang words on twitter.

„Okay, crazy old man.“

„At your service!“

It almost makes you laugh how the old generation of full-breed demons is completely gone wild and the youngsters are the opposite. Well, except the half-lycans, but they’re always living on the edge anyway.

„Can I speak to Mister Lee as well? Is he around?“

„Mark or Taeyong or Taemin? We have a lot of Lees.“

„Um, the butler guy.“

„Taeyong, here it goes. See you dad!“

You pass the hellephone, Taeyong poises himself.

„Hey there, young man!“

„Not that young. 552, Sire.“

„Hilarious, you can’t even get a Styx boat license around here at that age. Anyway. Got some news for you.“

„Yes, Mister?“

„Mammon recently splurged on the latest robo fancy schmancy tech stuff from Japan for no reason. I guessed you would want to try one on.“

„Pardon— Try on what?“

„Oh, a prosthetic exo-skeleton I mean. I heard you had beef with the loopy guy. Just drop by whenever.“

„A prosthetic arm aid?“

„Well yes!“

„That’s… that’s very kind of you.“

„No problem! Is the your Professor X available to speak to as well?“

„Of course, Sire, one moment,“ Taeyong composes himself, but you can tell he’s still processing it.

Everybody is on the edge of their seat.

„Hi down there,“ Lucas takes the speaker and leans back in his seat very laxly. Compared to how defeated he looked in your office, his posture is much more unwound now.

„Hi up there, Lucas what’s good?“

„Doing mighty fine these days. You gave us a good headline.“

„Oh, you’re very welcome Mister President. There’s headlines about me?“

The King sounds genuinely surprised.

„Yeah. You’ll have to add me in Kai’s Whatsapp group or give me your number. I’ll update you on these types of things.“

„Note down 1666 2666 3666, and I have some updates for you as well.“

Mark and Taeyong instantly start scribbling the number into their vest notebooks, meanwhile Lucas swirls the tea in his cup around.

„Shoot.“

He begins drinking it.

„Mister Cerberus’ daughter graduated today. Canine sciences. Lovely girl, calls herself Circe, you know, like the evil witch. Very intelligent person. She’s looking for a job and a mate in the upper world. I told her about the Club’s situation and you know, gossipped a little. She says she’s interested in you.“

Lucas spits out the tea.

„Sorry, what?“

„Hey, do you really think you’re not a man in demand? Anybody who studies werewolves knows about you. And you have free membership spots, or is that information outdated?“

„I-Is she a half-breed?“

„Of course, do you think Mister Cerberus would date another demon? That would make no sense! Hell, wouldn’t that be beastitality or something? Is it that what you call it?“

„Uh… Bestiality I thought, Sir.“

„Anyways. I haven’t seen Cerberus with anyone else but werewolves.“

„Werewolves are the closest genetically to hell hounds, Mister President,“ Mark leans in confidentially to brief Yukhei. „It’s good conduct for them to date.“

„Oh, uh, I get it.“

„So, do you want to meet her or not?“

„We, we have free spots all the way!“

„Great then, I’ll send her up the staircase now. She’ll be there in a minute or so.“

„The stai—!”

© 2017-2021 submissive-bangtan. all rights reserved. no reposts allowed.

[honeymoonjin]

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 namjoon x reader x hoseok x taehyung || 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 20.5k || 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆 smut, surprisingly enough this is literally pwp

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 in an effort to tame their increasingly bratty girlfriend, namjoon and hoseok take their sexual exploits to a new level and hire a professional dom to run a session with them in a bdsm dungeon

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 HELLA smut, dom Namjoon, dom Hoseok, dom Taehyung, sub + bratty reader, roleplay, BDSM, mxm, overstimulation, exhibitionism, voyeurism, unprotected sex, protected sex, foursome, oral (m receiving), spanking, BDSM furniture, degradation (name calling), gagging, electrical play, orgasm delay and denial, use of sex toys, possessiveness, use of safewords, BDSM machines, fingering, masturbation, multiple orgasms, choking, squirting, sensory deprivation, fucking machine, vaginal sex, anal sex, creampie, double penetration, triple penetration?, nipple play, i guess tae is technically a sex worker, pet names, sexual hierarchy, fully consensual slave-owner dynamic (not between the main characters)

a/n: this is a sequel to Hot Fuzz (namseok x reader) but can be read on its own. also, this contains other members wink wonk but i’m keeping them a secret to save the suspense. a million thanks to @hobiandcoffee​ , @jhspetitegf​ and @honey-boyyoongi​ for their help. couldn’t have done it without your help! also happy early birthday @jamaisjoons​ i hope this ruins you xxx

----

“Alright, he’s coming over. Remember our rules, princess?” Namjoon’s fingers wrap around your chin, digging in just enough to press your bottom lip into a pout. You do your best to nod, but his grip doesn’t waver. He raises an eyebrow at you.

“Yes, Daddy,” you murmur, feeling your heart warm when he smiles proudly at you. It’s relatively cool in the large space, and the contrast of the air with Hoseok’s warm body pressed against you makes you shiver.

The three of you had been waiting at the bar for the past ten or so minutes. Both you and Hoseok are practically vibrating with nervous excitement. The latter is on the bar stool next to you, looking very on-brand in black pants, combat boots, and a thin white tank. As always, his fingers are laden with rings, but it seems this time there’s a theme of silver bands, some with engravings or textures, others plain. You can’t help but wonder what pattern they’d welt on your ass if he spanked you. Perhaps today was a day for testing their limits as well as yours.

Namjoon, however, is the epitome of calm. Although both of your boyfriends had always been the ones in control, it was Namjoon who took charge earlier tonight when you were all getting ready. It was him that bought you the black lace bralette and matching miniskirt you were currently wearing; it was him who picked out what panties you were allowed to wear, before deciding nothing was better. It was him who booked you an appointment for waxing a few days prior so that you would be bare for him, able to feel everything. And now, as he kept your eyes fixed on him, he retained that composure. Going for a more subtle getup to Hoseok and you, he almost looked like he could walk into a high-profile business dinner and fit right in. Deep grey pants cinched at the waist with a belt were paired with a simple dress shirt, complete with expensive gold cufflinks.

The room is loud enough that you don’t hear the third man approaching until you hear his voice. You turn to look, but flush when Namjoon only lets your chin go after a moment, patting you condescendingly on the cheek. The newcomer, as he stands beside Namjoon and looks over the three of you, is decked out in leather, latex and buckles. A shot of anxious energy runs through your body as you look over how professional he looks. Leather pants, lace-up boots, and a latex top that is unzipped all the way to the middle of his chest, exposing a deep triangle of golden flesh. When he reaches out to shake Hoseok and Namjoon’s hands, a buckled strap around his bicep flexes slightly. You clench your thighs together, wishing Namjoon would’ve let you wear panties, anything to stop you from leaking onto the vinyl of the upholstered barstool.

“RM, Jay,” the man greets cordially, a surprisingly smooth-toned voice accompanying his fine-boned face. “My name is V, the sub will call me Master. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Oh, my name is Y/N,” you supply helpfully, but V turns to glare at you with narrowed eyebrows. Your smile drops.

“I was under the impression you read the email, sub,” he says steadily, words just sharp enough to provide a threat. “The scene was to begin the moment I arrived, which means you shouldn’t be speaking out of turn.”

You blink, turning to Hoseok for back-up, but he shoots you a salacious wink and looks back over to V. “She did read the email, yes. We’ve been having problems with her not following our rules, actually, so it’s great that you could fit us in for a session.”

You pout and jab Hoseok playfully in the side. On a normal night, your boyfriend would teasingly warn you, or perhaps you’d get a light spanking, but now he goes tense, eyes past you. You frown, and twist around, only for your blood to run cold.

“Did you just hit Sir?” V asks coldly.

“I just poked him,” you defend.

His eyes flare. “You aren’t making this very easy for yourself, little sub. I wouldn’t be testing my patience so early on in the evening if I were you.”

You pout and hunch over in your seat. “I’m sorry, um, Master, but I didn’t hit him. I just poked him,” you repeat petulantly.

His lips stretch into a disbelieving smile, sharp at the edges. “You’re right,” he affirms, “there is a difference between hitting and poking. Tell me, little sub; if I bend you over that bartop right now and flip up your skirt, which one do you think you’ll be getting?”

Namjoon intervenes, placing a hand on your knee and squeezing it gently. “Just apologise to Hoseok, baby girl. That was your first strike, but we know you must be nervous.”

His touch calms you, and you turn to your other boyfriend with what you hope is a cute pout. “Sorry, Sir,” you mumble, “I won’t do it again.”

“Good girl,” Hoseok replies warmly. “Now, we have some things we’d like to discuss, so just sit nice and pretty for us, hm?”

“And remember our rules,” Namjoon reminds you firmly. You nod dutifully and wriggle around on the stool a bit, getting comfortable as the three of them begin discussion.

For a while it’s admin stuff - payment, prior experience, limits - and you let yourself zone out, eyes curiously roaming the room that’s laid out in front of you.

Never having been to a BDSM dungeon before, you had sort of expected some sort of medieval, dimly-lit basement, but it’s comfortingly clean, tidy, and in fact to one side of the room there seems to be a social area where a pleasant hum of chatter fills the air. Some are dressed like V, others more incognito like Namjoon. There are women with fluffy tails between their legs, men wearing nothing but a jockstrap. On the far side of the room, a lady old enough to be your grandmother rests her feet on the bare back of a middle-aged man, whose arm muscles tremble violently.

But of course, this isn’t just a social gathering, and the majority of the room is taken up by what almost seems like an open-space office. It’s a large room, with two hallways at the far end that lead into what you know are the private rooms, available by booking. You had tried an interrogation room with your two boyfriends as a way of branching further out into BDSM, and only now are you realising how much of a baby step that was. The sights in front of you are far more intense and varied, and you shift in your seat, feeling Namjoon’s hand still resting on your knee, as you wonder which of the toys you’ll be using tonight.

Although the room is fairly loud with pleasured cries and sounds of impact, vibration, and electricity, it’s not terribly packed or crowded. The larger pieces of equipment are spread out around the room, and there are plenty of free spots. Men and women in plain black clothing rush around cleaning stations between uses, and even more keep watch over the crowd, stationed throughout the room. Each one has a little neon badge on their breast, and white lettering stamped on the back of their shirts that say DM. From the induction pamphlet you three had received when signing up, you knew this meant Dungeon Monitor, and they were the staff there to take care and keep an eye on the scenes. It reassured you to see just how many of them there were.

Occupying yourself with watching floggings and fucking machines and elaborate bondage only entertains you for so long, however, and you tune back in to the conversation, kicking your feet lazily back and forth. One rule of the dungeon was that all subs had to remove their shoes, since they’d be the ones getting up on the equipment and it was easier to avoid property damage that way, but you feel strangely vulnerable feeling the cold metal of the bar stool’s legs against your skin.

“Oh, wow, that long, huh?”

“Well, she was trained and had experience with suspension before that. Besides, there were two different spotters at the event to…”

You huff, feeling boredom make you restless. You only had the guy for one evening and here Hoseok and Namjoon were having a chat with V like they had all the time in the world. You glance up; nobody heard your noise of frustration, so you subtly inch your foot out to where Namjoon stands across from you, running it up and down, hitching his pant leg a little. As V continues to describe some encounters he had, Namjoon turns his head to you slightly and gives you a questioning stare. You pout at him, enough that he’ll notice but not so much that you’d draw unwanted attention from V.

His face clears out into an encouraging smile, and you perk up, expecting him to play with you a little or at the very least suggest to V that you properly begin the session. But, to your horror, he simply clears his throat, interrupting V mid-sentence. “What is it, baby girl?”

You shrink back, feeling three sets of eyes heavy on you. “I’m bored, Daddy.”

“You’re bored,” he repeats with a gentle tone that you would hear an adult use on a small child. “And what do you want me to do about that, hm? I was in the middle of a conversation, baby.”

“It’s rude to interrupt,” Hoseok pitches in.

Your mouth drops open. “I didn’t interrupt, Namjoon did!” The man in question tenses his jaw at your lack of a title. You swallow nervously, turning back to Hoseok. “I just don’t get why we’re still just sitting around at the bar, Sir. Isn’t chatting a waste of time?”

“Do you always speak to your doms that way, sub?”

You huff and stare at V. Needy for attention, boredom has always made you reckless, and so far he hadn’t done anything except empty threats. You shrug.

With his dark hair swept back off his forehead, you see the disapproving lines as he narrows his eyebrows at you. “That’s not an answer.”

You shrug again, with more emphasis. You do your best to stop from flat-out rolling your eyes, simply casting them upwards in frustration. “No, Master, I don’t. Because normally by now we’d actually be doing something.”

Namjoon sucks in a breath, and Hoseok tenses. You know you’ve fucked up by the way V’s back naturally straightens and his shoulders drop, slowly shaking his head.

“I warned you,” the master chides, “but little brats like you don’t listen. It’s clear that whatever I do will be a ‘waste of time’ as long as you have that attitude. Get off that stool and bend over it.”

Your stomach swirls anxiously, though it’s not entirely negative. You swallow, mutely shaking your head.

Undeterred, V turns to your boyfriends on either side. “Jay, bend her over and push up her skirt. RM, hold her torso down.” You squeak out in surprise as Hoseok doesn’t hesitate, picking you up and dragging the stool out further into the room before pressing you down onto it. V follows you with a languid pace, and you hear him cracking his knuckles. “It’s no wonder you called me, boys. Your sub is completely out of control. You have to teach her discipline if you expect to get anything out of this.”

You wriggle under the palm that pins you against the upholstery of the bar stool, Namjoon crouching so that his face is in your eyesight. His mouth is hard but his eyes are muted with sympathy. “You’re making us look bad, baby girl. Maybe if you take your punishment well, we can give you a reward, hm?”

The cool air on your ass as Hoseok lifts your skirt to rest on your back has you hissing in a breath, and with dawning horror, you realise the area around you has gone quieter. You make a noise of discomfort in your throat, and Hoseok gives one of your cheeks a light teasing pat.

“Everyone’s watching you, kitten,” he reveals with an edge of humor to his voice. “They wanna see your pretty little ass get lit up.” When he speaks again, it’s further away and in such a low murmur that you can’t make out what he’s saying. He confers quietly with V for a few moments, and you curl your toes into the carpet, unsure how you feel about your body being on display to so many strangers like this.

After a few moments, it goes silent, and you hold your breath, getting a fright when a stinging hand comes down upon your right cheek. “Ah, Sir,” you cry out in surprise.

“Wrong,” a voice says flatly, an unfamiliar hand brushing over the mark. You gasp and try to wiggle away, rising on your tiptoes to escape the touch. Namjoon gently shushes you, brushing your hair back from your face as V chuckles, his voice low with satisfaction. “Where’s that foolish confidence gone now, hm?”

When his hand comes down again, it’s on the other cheek and twice as hard. You whine at the sting, expecting another soothing rub or snarky comment, but he doesn’t give you the chance, instead raining down hit after hit, palm cupped slightly to increase the noise. Namjoon and Hoseok hold you down as you desperately shift away, trying in vain to tuck your ass away or twist out of their grip, but he doesn’t stop. You lose count sometime past eight, and your flesh heats up with each one, but still he continues. You feel the warmth spread; hits on your ass are spread evenly around but you also feel smacks that land on the tops of your thighs and, when you part your legs slightly to adjust your position, one lands right on your bare pussy. Though you can’t hear what he’s saying through your whimpers and cries, you can hear him laugh every now and again, kneading your tender flesh or giving you a pinch. He’s showing off.

When the air stills, you’re trembling. Your cheeks are on fire, not only your ass but also your face as you blush violently, tears running in hot tracks down your face. Vaguely, you hear your boyfriends praising you, hands lifting you up off the stool. Your vision swims with being raised so suddenly but Namjoon lets you lean on him, wrapping his arms around you and burying his chin in your hair.

“You did so well, baby,” he promises. “So well. Do you understand why he had to do that?”

You sniff and nod weakly.

“Good girl,” he croons, and your heart swells.

After a few moments, you feel another pair of hands on you. You turn, standing on shaky legs, and see Hoseok squeezing your shoulder. “We’re ready to play now, kitten. You still want us to play with you?”

Nervously, your eyes slide behind him to V, but instead of the disapproving hard stare you were expecting, you’re faced with sparkling eyes. Pride. The look of a teacher when their student finally grasps a difficult concept. It’s a look that you hope to see again. You turn back to Hoseok, blink away the last of your tears, and nod. “Yes, sir.”

“That’s my girl,” Namjoon praises warmly, and pats your extremely sore ass to get you moving.

You jump at the contact, but quickly hurry forward to follow the two men in front of you as they wind their way deeper into the room. You realise zoning out during their conversation perhaps wasn’t the best idea, since you now have no idea what they’re going to do and, being in the scene, have no way of asking.

The smell of arousal is heavy in the air, along with faint wisps of various scented lubes and wax play candles. You bite your lip as the modest crowd of people that had stopped to watch your punishment slowly return to what they’re doing, not after eyeing up your ass, which no doubt is bright red if the stinging heat is anything to go by. Your fingers itch to pull your skirt back down, but you’re unsure if you’re allowed to, and while you wish to continue poking and prodding your doms throughout the evening, you want to wait until your flesh isn’t so tender. Besides, a little reward for being a good girl sure sounds nice right about now. You keep your eyes low, conveniently resting them on the sight of Hoseok’s ass in those tight black pants, and try to ignore the slickness of your inner thighs as you walk.

You’re stopped suddenly when that ass halts in front of you, and you stumble to prevent yourself from smacking right into him. You look up as Namjoon comes around to stand beside them, a hand resting gently but possessively on your shoulder.

“I’m excited for this, baby girl. I know it’s something you wanted to try, and I can’t wait to see you up there.”

Up? You swivel in the direction he’s looking, where a massive contraption is bolted to the wall, two long, skinny blocks crossed over in a narrow X. Heat floods to your core as you recognise the equipment.

“A Saint Andrew's cross,” V explains easily, like he’s given the spiel a thousand times. “Named after Saint Andrew, who got crucified like this rather than the traditional way. Although I’m sure you’ll be having a lot more fun than he did.”

While you had done all this research before in anticipation of this evening, there was something far more electric about hearing it while the cross itself stood before you, especially since you knew you were about to be on it. Your mouth opens to breathe out a curse, but you snap it shut quickly.

V notices this and his lip twitches at your obedience. “Alright, little sub. Undress now.”

You blink. Somehow this hadn’t occurred to you. Taking a surreptitious glance around the room, it seems nobody is paying much attention to you; everyone around you is either a DM or actively engaging in their own scene. Still, you hesitate, before reluctantly slipping down your skirt and unhooking your bra. You cross your arms over your breasts and press your thighs as close together as possible, avoiding the eyes of the three men around you.

“For someone that was so concerned about wasting time, you sure did take a while to obey me, sub. Next time I expect you to do as I or your other doms say the moment we say it, understand?”

You stare at the way your toes curl between the fibres of the charcoal carpet. “Yes, Master.” You say it quickly, forcing the words out, and he sighs in displeasure.

You can feel rather than see his dark gaze on you. The tip of one of his boots taps impatiently in the corner of your vision. “Your two options are obedience and the use of your safeword. Anything else and you will receive due punishment. It’s clear to me your doms are soft on you; I can assure you, I am not. I won’t hesitate to discipline you without mercy.”

As much as your mind screams not to, you can’t help the grin that twitches at your lip at the thought. You duck your head down further, hoping he missed it.

Of course, no such luck. “Oh, it seems the sub likes the sound of that,” he muses in a humored tone. “Maybe you gentlemen picked a good one after all.”

Hoseok hums, reaching forward to squeeze one of your ass cheeks. You gasp, biting your lip at the heat that flares up under his calloused fingers. “Our pretty little painslut,” he confirms. “Get up on the cross, kitten.”

“Yes, sir,” you reply, embarrassment curling in the pit of your stomach at how throaty your voice is already. You feel wetness smearing all the way down to the bottom of your thighs now, and if your core doesn’t get some attention, you might just go crazy.

With shaky legs, you step up, the bottom of each plank having a narrow platform just wide enough for a foot. The distance isn’t too far, with your feet spread apart a bit wider than your hips, but the waft of cool air causes you to clench. Like always, when approaching something new, you feel your heart seize up in equal parts arousal and anxiety.

With your back to the cross, you’re faced out onto the crowd, and you feel yourself go weak, all too aware of just how many people in the room there are. It’s filled up a bit over the past half hour or so, and while nobody actively ogles you, there’s nothing to stop them glancing up to catch you, naked and with thighs glossy. You buckle at the knees slightly, crouching to close the gap between your legs slightly.

Hoseok tuts. “Don’t go shy on us now, kitten. Arms up.”

Instinctively your hands lift in the air, but you pause. “Sir?”

“Yes, kitten?” He steps forward, close enough that you can just about feel the heat radiating off his body, giving the feeling of confidentiality - even as your two other doms watch you like a hawk behind him.

You swallow hard, lowering your voice to a whisper. “What are you going to do me?” Even asking the question sends a delicious shudder up your spine.

He grins, eyes bright. “That all depends on if you behave for us. Are you gonna be a good slut?” You nod quickly, though a part of you is already planning how you can rile them up while tied down. “Say it, kitten.”

“I’m gonna be a good slut for Sir.”

His grin sharpens into a sneer as he steps back, joining the two others. “I’m not the only one here, remember? Say it to them, too.”

Your hands find each other, wringing them to vent your embarrassment. Namjoon has slipped his hands casually into his pants pockets, and he tips his head to the side with a slight smile, expectant. V maintains his stoic posture as usual and just cocks an eyebrow, arms crossed. You clear your throat, eyes darting once more around the other patrons of the dungeon. “I-I’m gonna be a good slut for Daddy…. And I’m gonna be a good slut for,” your gaze lands on V, too far away for you to be sure, but you think you see his eyes dilate. “Master,” you finish. He gives you the most miniscule nod, you would’ve missed it had you not already been watching him.

“That’s right,” Hoseok affirms, and steps forward again. “Now I won’t ask again. Arms up.”

This time you don’t waste a moment, holding them up in the air over your head, feeling the cold metal of the buckles lightly brush the tops of your hands. You look up with a frown, only to see the fastening points too high up. You look back down with a disappointed pout.

Hoseok is staring at you in bemusement and Namjoon has delicately covered his mouth to laugh, but V just pushes past the two, crouching down suddenly to crank a lever on the cross beside your left foot. You squeak as that platform begins to lift, and to save yourself from tipping over, your hand flies down and steadies yourself on his shoulder. You manage to catch your balance and quickly go to lift off your hand, wary that he might’ve considered it breaking the rules, but his hand darts up the second your fingertips slip away from the leather, wrapping tightly around your wrist.

You freeze in uncertainty, but he simply switches planks and adjusts the other platform so that the two are even, with you higher up than before. Once he’s done, he tips his head up to look at you, and you feel yourself shrink back at the heat of his gaze. Somehow, even though you’re above him, he has a way of exerting his power over you with that one look.

Suddenly, your awareness is brought to the heat between your thighs, and how close he is to it. As if he can read your thoughts, his eyes slip down to stare openly at your exposed pussy. A hot strike of shame makes your toes curl on the wooden platforms as his nostrils flare, and he looks back up at you again with a slow grin.

You take a shuddering breath, bracing yourself for a scathing comment, but he just stands up in one smooth movement, silently taking your wrist up to hold it against the corresponding post, nodding to himself when your wrist slips nicely into the leather cuff. He buckles it efficiently, and you feel your heart pick up when the natural weight of your arm pulls on the tight circlet of leather, reminding you of your vulnerability. Your other arm is hoisted up and attached before you even realise it, rendering you spread-eagled on the cross. Your ankles remain free, but the wrist attachments are still high enough for you that your body is completely stretched out, heels barely brushing the platforms.

He steps back, bends over to murmur something in Namjoon and Hoseok’s ears one at a time, then promptly leaves. You feel an odd stab of disappointment as you watch his receding figure snake through couples and small groups at different stations, until he goes out of sight. “Where’d he go?” you murmur unhappily.

Hoseok frowns and surges forward, raining a sharp swat down on your breast. Your eyes squeeze shut and your hands instinctively jerk, but you’re unable to cover yourself. You startle when he gives the same treatment to the other breast. “What an ungrateful little slut,” you hear him say. “So desperate for another man’s cock. Filthy.”

Another voice from slightly further away, softer. “Are we not enough for you anymore, baby girl?’

You open your eyes and shake your head adamantly. “No, Daddy,” you plead, “I was just curious.”

Namjoon has on an expression he rarely gets. Normally the softer of the two, he now presses his mouth into a tight line and furrows his brow. “And now you’re lying to Daddy,” he comments flatly. “If that greedy pussy of yours isn’t satisfied with two cocks, you should just tell us.”

Your pout deepens. “It isn’t that, Daddy! I was just having fun with three.”

After a moment, the tension in his face clears. “Ah, baby’s just having fun, hm? Special occasion?” You nod sulkily. “Oh, well there’s nothing wrong with that, baby girl. Daddy wants you to have fun. But if you wanna have fun you need to learn to follow the rules. And you didn’t even ask nicely.”

Your chest eases, the crisis averted. “Thank you, Daddy, I’m sorry. Please can you tell me why Master V left?”

Hoseok barks out a quick laugh. “He didn’t leave, kitten, he’s gone out back to get some toys for us to play with.”

You mouth opens and closes, unsure whether you’re allowed to talk back. You take the chance, curiosity getting the better of you. “But Sir, there are so many spare trolleys with toys on them here already.”

“I thought you deserved my personal collection,” a third voice says from your right. You glance over quickly, sticking your face out to see past your forearm, as V returns with what looks like a massive toolbox, metal painted black, and sets it down beside you. “Employee perks,” he explains shortly. “Some of our equipment isn’t safe to be used with untrained individuals for safety reasons. Others I just have a personal preference for.” He’s not speaking to you anymore, rather your two boyfriends. “Has the sub behaved while I’ve been gone?”

Hoseok raises an eyebrow but Namjoon beats him to it. “She most certainly has. Waiting patiently for her reward.” You blink at Namjoon, surprised, but the dark glimmer in his eyes just tells you that you’ll pay for his generosity later.

“Well, then,” V begins, flipping open the catches on the top of the chest, flipping the lid up, “let’s begin.”

You watch in anticipation, muscles in your upper arms twitching as he digs around. You can’t see anything from the way the lid blocks your view, but after a moment he pulls out a bottle of...lube?

“What’s that?” you ask curiously before you can think better of it.

V lets out a bitter scoff, passing the bottle - unlabeled except for a faded E written in Sharpie- to Namjoon, before turning back to his toolbox. “That mouth,” he remarks harshly, “will get you in trouble, little sub.” He lets out a low growl as he rummages around more hastily, and the sound rushes straight to your core, heat flaring. “I don’t even have a gag for you, normally my subs know not to run their mouths around me. Guess I’ll have to make do.”

He straights up, pulling out a long trail of thin rope, soft red nylon looking positively sinful as it runs over his tanned fingers. He loops it a few times, before collecting the bunch, one thick cylinder of rope, about two fingers wide. His lids are low when they focus on you, that proud glimmer long gone. “Open up.” You obey him without thinking, scrunching your nose as he fastens the rope around your head, strands of hair getting pinched between the individual lengths. The girth is enough that your jaw hangs a little open, and you curl your lips and bite down on the rope in an effort to prevent drooling.

“Now, I won’t give you another strike because you were asking a question. But that better be the last time I hear you speaking out of turn. This isn’t fucking Sunday School, I don’t need you asking questions. Look at where you are right now, princess. Tied and gagged, naked with your dripping pussy on full display. We could do whatever the fuck we wanted with you right now. Your pretty little boyfriends could leave right now to get an early night and leave you in my hands. Maybe I’d get sick of your attitude and walk away myself, leaving you available to anyone who wanted to play with you. How long do you think it would take a DM to notice the sub that was getting fucked by everyone in the room, hm?” You shudder, core clenching, as you remember the pure arousal that hit you when you felt V’s unfamiliar hands on your ass back at the bar. Your eyes slip shut at the thought, and you hear a chuckle. “You continue to surprise me, little sub. It seems that no matter what I say or do as punishment you go weak at the knees. I’ll have to think on how I’ll discipline you properly. In the meantime,” he breaks away from you to walk back to your boyfriends, patting Namjoon on the shoulder. “Like we discussed?”

You tilt your head at this comment, though Namjoon and Hoseok both nod, the latter biting his lip with a dark look in his eyes. As the two approach you, V falls behind, using the toolbox as a stool, legs splayed across the carpet lazily. You turn your attention back to your boyfriends, who have stopped at the foot of the cross, one to either side.

Namjoon lazily thumbs the cap open and closed; with every plastic click, you feel your core clench. He smiles at you, eyes glittering. “Most patrons of the dungeon don’t get to play with the toys we’re gonna play with, baby girl. We had to come here last week for a safety briefing.” You lower your brows in confusion and your boyfriend stays in character, tipping his head to the side innocently even as his eyes glitter with amusement. “What, did we not tell you that? Jay, did you tell our girl what we were preparing for?”

Hoseok’s eyes are nearly black. He doesn’t turn to Namjoon when he’s addressed, eyes heavy on you. “I guess I must’ve forgot,” he replies flatly, not even attempting to convincingly lie. “Wanna guess where we’re gonna put it?” His lip curls in amusement as you stare it him, hands tied and mouth gagged. He laughs darkly. “Oh, that’s right. You can’t. I suppose you’ll just have to sit back and take it, hm?” He takes the lube back off Namjoon and steps even closer, until you can see the shimmer of sweat on his temples and some strands on his hairline sticking to it.

You groan around the rope, steadily growing soaked with your spit. Tentatively, you push your hips forward as much as you can off the wood of the cross, whimpering in question. Hoseok, head ducked as he cracks open the bottle and squeezes some lube onto his fingers, misses it but your other boyfriend just chuckles.

“Not that greedy pussy of yours, baby girl,” he teases, “it’s so sloppy we wouldn’t need any lube at all. No, this is for those pretty little nipples of yours.”

You shudder, ass falling back to smack against the planks again. You moan out a word around the gag, though, as Hoseok’s slicked-up hands latch around your stiff buds, you know they all understand you. Why?

Namjoon’s eyes light up. “Do you know what the E on the bottle stands for, baby girl?” When he says the next word, he enunciates every syllable, the harsh sounds of the consonants cracking in his mouth, sending shivers down your spine. “Electric.”

As if rehearsed, V stands up off the chest, swinging his leg aside to open it back up, digging in deep and pulling out what looks like an electrical cord; the flat, black ribbon splitting off into two and ending on either end in delicate peg-like contraptions. Nipple clamps. You take a deep breath, chest soaring. Nipple clamps were one of your favorite toys to use in the bedroom. Many a time, even in your more vanilla forays, you’d bat your eyelashes and press out your chest and ask one of your boyfriends to pretty please put on the clamps, even just for a little bit, but you were used to bright silver, not this sleek black. You watch in curiosity as V ducks down again, pulling out what appears to be a remote - a rounded, roughly egg-shaped device that fits comfortably in his hand. Electric. Your jaw goes slack around the spit-slick ropes in your mouth. Your eyes are heavy on those two black pegs as they sway loosely in the air, and you feel yourself tremble, the muscles in your thighs weaker than they were before.

Hoseok’s fingers, still slightly cold from the air in the room, feel even more stimulating as they tweak your buds, coaxing them into stiff peaks as the lube makes it difficult for him to get a grasp. You suck in a harsh breath through your nose as he slips and scratches a fingernail across the top of one, your eyes finally breaking from the nipple clamps and onto him as he apologetically pats your breast with a rakish grin.

Without looking, he accepts the proffered toy, wrapping ring-laden fingers around the remote as he jokingly snaps one of the clamps in his other hand, opening and closing it like a tiny set of jaws. Slipping the black device into his pocket, he stands directly in front of you, slightly taller than you even as you’re raised on the platform of the cross, and licks his lips teasingly.

“This is how it’s going to go, kitten,” he instructs in a sultry tone, “we’re going to put these on, have a little fun. But you’re not allowed to cum, okay? A good girl always asks first.” You narrow your eyebrows at him, huffing around your makeshift gag, and his eyes light up, tip of his tongue remaining just past his teeth as he chuckles. “Mm, you can’t exactly ask if you’ve got that thing in your mouth, now can you?” You shake your head obediently, hoping he can read the pleading look in your eyes. “Maybe I’ll take it off later.”

Your shoulders droop. You let out a disappointed whine, but your boyfriend just laughs at you, shifting his focus down to your breasts as he palms one roughly, a thumb stroking over the nipple before he’s bringing the toy up to it without ceremony.

You crane your neck down, moaning as the sight of him affixing the black clamp to your glistening nipple is paired with the delicious pressure it brings. Your head tips back again, eyes falling shut in bliss as, for the first time in the evening, you receive some decent stimulation. You let out a groan, hands balling uselessly into fists high above your head as your other nipple receives the same treatment. You can’t help but whimper, back arching to follow him as he deftly tugs on the electrical ribbon between the two, ensuring they’re fastened correctly, but no doubt also doing it just to watch you squirm.

“That feel good, kitten?”

You garble affirmation and nod, moaning again as he continues to play with the cord, a dozen teasing flicks of his wrist to keep the warmth of pressure on your nipples rising. All is still for a moment, and you crack your eyes open to see Hoseok falling back to stand beside V, letting your other boyfriend take his place.

Your attention is immediately caught by the object he’s lazily tossing back and forth between his hands. A slender, curved vibrator. Your eyes light up, and it’s clear he sees the apparent joy on your face as he approaches.

“I did say this was a reward, baby girl,” Namjoon reminds you, looking sharp as ever in his dress shirt. His straining erection is clear to see even through the black pants, and a quick glance to Hoseok shows you he’s faring the same. You had hoped their desperation would have led to their cocks being inside you already, but you would happily settle for a vibrator, as long as something was filling you. Surreptitiously, you sneak a look over to V’s crotch as well, a dark glee lighting up inside you when you see the outline of a bulge running halfway down his thigh. Holy shit.

You swear your heart stops for a second when you look away, only to be faced with V himself as he stares you down, clearly having seen you ogle him. You sigh, muffled through the wet rope, as you feel smooth silicone slip between your soaked folds, but you can’t break your gaze from the man sitting atop his box of toys.

Languidly, like he has all the time in the world, the dark-haired man rests a hand on his thigh, and lets a single finger lay right where his head sits underneath the fabric, and swirls it, gently outlining his own erection, a promise of what could be to come. Your mouth waters even more, and the only thing that pulls you back is a sudden onslaught of sensation; somehow, as though they were timing it while you were distracted, Namjoon plunges the vibrator to the hilt inside of you just as an odd yet intense tingle in your nipples makes your very nerve endings shiver.

You let out a surprised yelp, smothered by the gag in your mouth, and flinch as the cord between your breasts is yanked roughly, very nearly dislodging the clamps with how vigorous the motion is. Your gaze shoots in front of you to Namjoon, the normally reserved demeanor alight with something deeper, something more possessive.

“Do we need to take him away?” Namjoon asks in a sharp tone. Without looking, without changing his stern expression at all, he flattens his palm against the base of the vibrator and presses, twisting it inside you, as deep as it can get. You whine lowly, attempting to rise on the tips of your toes to escape the sudden stretch, but he simply reaches out and grips your chin tightly. “Yes or no,” he spits out, “do we need to take him away or will you start behaving for us?”

You sniff as the base of his palm barely misses your clit, but articulate a vaguely disyllabic answer, asking for the latter.

“You promise to behave?” he confirms, and you hum your agreement. “Well then, I’m sick of your eyes being on him when you should be focussing on me. On us. Understood?” He releases your jaw so that you can nod in response. “Good. Now, before we continue, I want this gag off. I’m sick of you blabbering like a baby when I ask you a question.”

Simultaneous rage and humiliation flare in you at the statement, but you stay silent, all too relieved to finally be freeing your mouth. The ropes have been getting heavier as your spit is absorbed, and when he finally undoes the knots, accidentally ripping out a few hair strands with them, your jaw aches as you close it again, muscles sore from being held wide for some time. You lick your lips to soothe them and swallow the saliva that’s been pooling in your mouth, but your relief is only enjoyed for a few moments before Namjoon continues.

This time, instead of grinding the vibrator inside you - sadly still turned off - he begins thrusting it, gently tugging at the nipple clamps one at a time, or flicking them with his finger to get you to whimper. Your sounds are so much louder without the muffling, and you find yourself trying to keep your mouth shut, moans bubbling in the back of your throat as he strikes your g-spot with each thrust, the gentle curve in the silicon rubbing against that spongy tissue.

“Good?” he asks simply, picking up the pace as your abs clench with the urge to grind against the intrusion.

“Y-good,” you make out between pleasured whimpers, whole body shuddering when the sparks of electricity return, a lower intensity level but in regular thrumming instead of a single pulse. The stimulation merges with the vibrator inside you, warming your whole body with pleasure, but something is missing. “Turn it on,” you breathe out desperately, before adding a belated, “please, Daddy.”

Namjoon’s lip quirks in satisfaction. “My baby girl is so needy. Can you promise not to cum for me?”

You pout in disappointment. “Daddy…” But he doesn’t back down. “Yes, okay, I won’t cum, Daddy. Can Hoseokie come over too?”

“Ask him, princess.” While Namjoon waits, he takes out the vibrator with a wet noise and you hum unhappily at the emptiness in your core.

You bite your lip, turning to the man behind Namjoon with a glint in your eye. “Sir, please come touch me. I need you.”

Hoseok, always the one to be a little more susceptible to begging, makes his way forward, absentmindedly tapping the bulge in his pocket where the remote is. He smiles softly at the puppy dog eyes you send him, as you arch your chest enticingly.

You return it, though your smile quickly turns mischievous. The cool varnished wood of the cross has calmed down the sting in your ass, and you’re feeling like you could do with some more punishment. Besides, your arms are starting to ache from being held up so long. “Good boy.”

The warmth in his expression drops in an instant, and his lip curls. Like lightning, his hand dives into his pocket and you yelp as a sharp bite of electricity runs through your nipples and through your whole chest, making you tremble violently as your muscles contract.

“Okay,” you hear V say quickly, standing up off the chest and rushing over to you. As your shivers continue, you feel him firmly grab a hold of the black electrical ribbon between your breasts and tugs roughly, yanking the clamps right off your overstimulated nipples. You howl and instinctively try to curl in on yourself, the leather cuffs digging painfully into your wrists. You can see the hard lines of anger in his face, and duck your head, turning your face slightly to the side as you await punishment, but it seems the leather-clad man isn’t annoyed at you.

He stalks over to Hoseok, who has stepped back a little in confusion, and shoves his hand without ceremony into the other’s pants, drawing out the remote and chucking the two items back into his chest, kicking it shut with a metallic slam. Whirling back around, he draws his chest up, looking unbelievably intimidating even over your boyfriend. “Never,” he spits, “ever take your anger out on a sub,  no matter how bratty she may be. Yes, she deserves punishment for acting out and we’ll give it to her but that doesn’t mean you can use her as a punching bag.” With a jaw clenched bitterly, V shakes his head. “This is why I don’t let non-professionals use my equipment. Lesson fucking learned, I suppose.”

You watch with wide eyes as he approaches you slowly, hands on his hips. “Colour,” he requests quietly.

You swallow, eyes darting to your boyfriend, whose eyes are on you, rueful. Namjoon stands beside him, hand on his shoulder, and leans in to whisper quietly. “Green,” you say after a moment. “Yellow then, but green now.”

V nods after a moment, gaze running over every inch of your body thoroughly, paying close attention to the angry red of your nipples. “Alright. We continue, without any electric play.” Taking the slick vibrator off Namjoon, he chucks it into a plastic bag inside the chest that you can just make out a label on that reads ‘to be cleaned’. He stands over the box of toys for a moment, considering, before turning back around, glaring at you. You gasp, feeling that the scene is back in full swing now. “And the sub. It’s clear to me no matter what equipment I use on her, she drips for it.” You push your lips into a scowl when you realise, though his eyes are heavy on you, he’s addressing your boyfriends instead. “Maybe the problem here is that she enjoys the punishment she gets from you so much that she acts out constantly to receive it. Of course punishment can be fun, but when she’s as out of line as she is now, you need to teach her a lesson. So, if toys won’t work, we’ll try something else. Someone else.”

Your back straightens and your gaze trains on him warily. You have to bite your tongue to hold back a retort, and his eyes dance gleefully at the way you clench your jaw.

“Jay, RM, it seems to me that your sub likes being punished so much because you’re the ones who will give it to her. So, with your permission, we’re going to be changing it up.”

Your mouth drops open in indignation as the two nod calmly. “What about my permission?”

With a dark glare, V reaches out and grabs tightly onto one of your abused nipples, making you wince at the pinching sensation. “This far into the evening and you still can’t stop running your mouth. If you recall, sub, involving other individuals in play was something you ticked off on your application.”

You can’t help yourself. “Not for punishment, though,” you counter in a low whine.

His eyebrows lower. “I’ll keep the play safe, but beyond that I have no sympathy for you, you little brat. Use your safeword, otherwise it’s in your best interests to start following the rules.”

You smother your pout with another scowl and turn your head to the side, biting hard on the inside of your cheek when he releases your nipple with a final tweak and the blood rushes back in achingly.

He waits for a moment, letting out a heavy sigh when you remain silent. “Fine, then. We’re going to go find someone who wants to play, and you can just wait right here.”

In shock, your head snaps back and you look out onto the room, at all the people playing and watching. If your doms left, you wouldn’t be able to fend them off. Your heart rate increases, and you send your boyfriends a concerned look.

V catches it, and grins. “Don’t worry,” he remarks smugly as he reaches into his back pocket, “we won’t leave you up here alone. My friend Jimin over there is a DM, he’s been supervising us all night in case you hadn’t noticed. He’ll come stand by you while we’re gone.”

You look off in the direction the dom nods in and see a blonde-haired young man in the black shirt and neon badge, strolling over from the corner of the room closest to your station. He sees you staring and throws you a rakish grin, lifting an arm to run a hand through his hair cockily. God, you think, he better not want to make conversation while I’m stuck up here.

A plastic click draws your attention back in front of you, where V has what looks like a felt pen. “Washable ink,” he explains, “just to be safe.” You go completely still as he brings it forward to draw it in swoops across your chest, over the tops of your breasts. The tip of the pen tickles, and the ink is cool, a bright purple. Once he draws back and caps the pen, you draw your chin into your chest to try and make sense of the large block letters. It takes you a moment to reverse them in your mind, but you suck in a breath through your teeth when you work it out. TAKEN.

As you try and read, he speaks once more. “Wiggle your fingers,” he instructs calmly, and you look up, doing as he asks with a tinge of confusion. “And make a fist.” You do that two, feeling the very tips of your fingers are a little numb, otherwise the rest of you is fine. You realise he’s checking in to make sure the blood hasn’t completely left your extremities from being held above your head. As always, he manages to uphold safety without impairing the scene. Without further comment, he turns from you, converses quietly with the DM, and leaves, your two boyfriends in tow.

Left alone with the stranger, you watch warily as he sighs out and takes a seat on the carpet in front of you, kicking out his legs. “Ah,” he hums happily, stretching his arms in front of his chest. “This is the first time I’ve sat down all night. Standing sure gets tiring.” With a cheeky smile, he glances up at you. “Although I don’t need to tell you that.”

You simply stare at him quietly, unsure if you’re still on the ‘don’t speak unless you’re spoken to’ mode. Though, to be fair, you haven’t exactly been following that much tonight. “So, your name’s Jimin?” you ask after a moment.

He lets out a surprised laugh at your attempt at small-talk. “You know, normally the subs Tae gets me to supervise- ah fuck, V - normally the subs V gets me to supervise are way more timid than you. You a sucker for pain or something?”

Looking out onto the multiple stations in front of you, you shrug as much as you can within the restraints. “When in Rome.”

He runs his tongue over his teeth, eyes roaming over you. “God, the one day I’m DM-ing...” He looks out and perks up. “Fuck, that was fast. I guess they had no problem finding someone interested.”

Your eyes dart out into the crowd, craning your neck to glance around a few people watching a nearby scene, searching for your boyfriends or V. In front of you, Jimin is standing up hastily and brushing the seat of his pants, and you curse the fact that you can’t get up on tippy-toes to look over him.

“Nice to meet you,” he farewells cordially. He holds his arm out for a handshake and then realizes his mistake, shaking his head in embarrassment and turning away, quickly rushing back over to his corner. Your eyes widen as he leaves prematurely, glancing around to make sure no strangers approach, when you see the familiar broad frame of your boyfriend returning to you, his grin big even as his eyes are lidded with lust.

You smile at him warmly. Even five minutes without Namjoon makes your heart swell when you see him again, and you wiggle your hands in a grabby motion, making his dimple pop out when he smiles. There’s something else though, a sly quirk to his lips, and it makes you pause.

Behind him is Hoseok, wearing a look of satisfaction and contained excitement, and you can’t quite see past the two to see who might be following them.

As they get closer, you see V, but he’s a decent few paces back, and you don’t understand the distance, until you see a glimpse of bleached hair just past Hoseok’s shoulder. Your two boyfriends split up once they break through the lingering people, and step inside the station, one on either side of you, but further away than you’d like.

The owner of the pale hair is revealed as he walks through the two of you and you gasp in shock. Not at him, but at the man behind him. You have to lower your gaze quite a bit, because he’s crawling on his hands and knees, neck craned up to look at the light-haired man in adoration.

The two of them make quite the pair; the dom is wearing slick clothes, tight pants, a black turtleneck and leather jacket, and his hair is brushed back to reveal darker brows, undyed. Though he’s much smaller than any of the men around him, including the one that follows him like a dog, he has an undeniable presence, with the borderline apathetic yet critical gaze he adopts as he looks over you, head tilting to the side. He comes to a stop in front of you, and his sub remains slightly behind him and to the left. With thickly corded muscles in his arms and shoulders, he looks physically like he could pick any one of you up one-handed, yet he waits patiently on his hands and knees, looking unexpectedly soft with a baby face and a delicate garter set for underwear that accentuates his delicate waist.

“Position,” the standing man says in a barked command. Like clockwork, the sub sits back up to kneel, hands resting gently on his thick thighs and head bent down respectfully. As he waits, you can see a band of leather around his throat, studded with what almost looks like diamonds. “Good boy,” he praises, even though he doesn’t lift his gaze off of you. Still, the sub visibly trembles at the praise, toes wiggling happily on the carpet behind him.

V arrives last, and rests a hand warmly on the stranger’s shoulder. “Sub, pay attention.” The young man kneeling glances up, and a fond boxy smile rises on V’s face, one you only saw once after you took your spanking. A strange unfurling of jealousy opens in your chest. “Not you, slave. Eyes on the floor.” The slave quickly drops his head, trembling again when the dom reaches out to pat his cheek, like a sign that he’s not in trouble.

Master V keeps his gaze on you as he squeezes the shoulder of the man beside him. “Sub, this is Master Min, and his slave Koo.” Turning to your boyfriends to include them as well, he addresses the doms. “As discussed, I think the sub could benefit from a positive example of a good sub. Of course, she doesn’t have to do all the things Koo does, every dynamic is different, but she could learn a lot from his behaviour. More than that, Koo is much like her in what he likes, but he and Min have incorporated it into play so that it doesn’t require punishment to get what he needs. Perhaps your girl is such a brat because she’s feeling unfulfilled. RM, Jay, you can get her down.”

“Down?” you mumble without realising, luckily quiet enough that the others don’t overhear. With a confused frown on your face, you let your boyfriends unbuckle you from the cross, wrists first. Your shoulder muscles ache when you lower your arms, and thick red bands line the skin of your wrists, which you thumb at with a smile while they bend down to undo your ankles.

“Lean on me, kitten,” Hoseok instructs softly, and you wrap your arms around him tightly, letting him grip your ass and pick you up off the cross gently so you don’t fall. He lowers his torso so that your dangling feet drag on the carpet, but you whine and lift them, linking your ankles around his back so that you’re latched on like a koala. He laughs softly at your whine. “You don’t wanna walk, hm?” You shake your head, thriving at the physical contact even as your bared pussy soaks the bottom of his white tank top. He pats your hair, and your heart warms. Especially after he was so angry at you earlier, the intimacy feels more than comforting. “You might want to stretch your legs, though, before we move on…” He trails off teasingly, and you draw your face up, seeing the mischief in his eyes.

With a pout, you let your legs lower to the ground, supporting your weight steadily before you take your arms off of Hoseok’s shoulders. You look around at the others, awaiting further explanation.

Namjoon steps forward, sharing a glance with V and then Hoseok before cupping your face softly. “We’re gonna go watch Min and Koo play, okay? They’re gonna show you how to be a good sub for us.”

“Where do you want to do your scene?” V asks Min.

The dom glances down at his sub, who still has his neck bent, dark hair glossy from the lights overhead. “Koo,” Min calls softly but firmly, and the young man looks up immediately. “Do you want to pick which station we go to?”

With doe-like eyes, Koo shakes his head. “No, Master. Wan’ you to pick.”

“Uh-uh,” the dom chastises with a tut, “we talked about this. Big boys choose when they get offered. Don’t make me regret my generosity.”

“Sorry, Master,” he replies quickly, “Kookie would like the bed tonight.”

“Alright, then. Go check if it’s free for us first. You may walk.”

Almost reluctantly, the sub stands up, and you widen your eyes at just how tall he is, rising above his master to almost match Namjoon’s height. If it wasn’t for the way he clasps his hands together and ducks his head so submissively, and if it wasn’t for the collar around his neck and the garters on his thighs, you could easily mistake him for a dom. Physical appearance wasn’t everything, you supposed.

As you wait, V disappears too, mentioning something about more equipment he needed, and by the time a DM comes over and lets you know that Koo has found and reserved a bed on the second floor, he still hasn’t returned. Min offers to flick him a text, and after you’re allowed to put your skirt and bra back on, the four of you walk through the middle of the room to reach the set of stairs at the far corner beside the bar. All of upstairs is like a mezzanine floor around the edges of the room, with doors that go off into separate rooms. With Namjoon on your left and Hoseok on your right, you ascend the stairs, taking the left path to walk around the mezzanine. Each door is labelled: medical A, medical B, dungeon A, filming A, and so on, but you’re taken by what you can glimpse over the protective barriers, looking down onto the first floor.

You can see all the different stations from up here, all the people who occupy them. The bar reaches out in a semicircle, with curved rows of stations flowing out like petals or ripples, the smaller ones closer to that social area, and the biggest ones along the walls. There are more people than before, probably close to capacity, so it’s a wonder Koo managed to find exactly what he wanted without it already being taken.

As you walk, you can feel the obscene slick between your thighs, wetting all the way down to the sides of your knees. It feels uncomfortable, though nothing like the remaining fire of your nipples as they rub slightly against the fabric of your bra. More than anything, though, you still feel so needy, so wanting. Though there aren’t any clocks in the room downstairs, much like a casino, you managed to glance at Min’s watch as he strolled, and see that it had been over two and a half hours since the three of you first arrived, and you still hadn’t been even close to cumming. And now V was making you sit down and watch other people fuck instead of you. You were starting to realise just how clever he was with his punishments.

Distracted, you almost bump into Min as he halts in front of a door, which has a plaque at eye level reading ‘domestic’. He knocks, and instead of Koo answering the door like you expect, it’s V. You widen your eyes and follow the men inside the room in curiosity, wondering what equipment it was exactly that he had left to retrieve.

It’s immediately obvious. In the soft, romantic, bedroom-styled set, one thing stands out like a sore thumb. Past the foot of the bed, closer to the opposite wall, is a chair covered in undone leather straps. The black leather and silver buckles are totally at odds with the warm neutral shades of the room, and the soft, freshly washed linen and blankets on the large bed. More so than that, however, what really draws your attention is the hole cut out in the base, and the dildo that sticks through, attached to what can be described as nothing else but a machine, a motor which is plugged in to an electrical socket on the wall. The two back legs have wheels attached to them, so that should you tip the chair back, you can roll it around rather than having to lift it. All-in-all, it looks extremely expensive and extremely intimidating. You swallow down the saliva that collects in your mouth at the sight of it.

Other than the fucking machine, the other notable accessory is the sub kneeling beside the bed. He doesn’t look up when you all file in the room, even as his fingers curl into the lush carpet when he hears his master’s voice.

“Good boy, Koo,” Min praises warmly, “such a well-behaved slave tonight. Are you being extra good for our guests?” His eyes crinkle in satisfaction as the boy’s thick hair bobs with his enthusiastic nodding. Min approaches him, placing a hand on the sub’s cheek to lift his face up. He runs his fingers over Koo’s lips, who obediently opens his mouth, tongue flat. The dom places two fingers inside, slowly sliding them deeper in, up to his knuckles. “Are you gonna keep behaving for me?”

Koo’s eyes are wide, and you can see the way his nostrils flare as he breathes in through his nose, trying not to gag. Instead of nodding, he gargles out an affirmative hum, and Min’s lip curls proudly, drawing his fingers out and wiping the spit off on Koo’s cheek, the younger boy’s eyes fluttering shut even as his mouth still hangs slightly open.

“Kitten,” you hear Hoseok say, drawing your attention back to him. He has an evil glint in his eye as he grins. “Don’t you wanna rest those pretty little legs of yours? You must be feeling so weak. Why don’t you take a seat?” He gestures grandly to the elaborate contraption across from the bed, and although he’s stating it as a joke, you know it’s nothing less than a command.

With shaky legs, you walk over, hovering uncertainly. V steps forward, manually rotates the wheel so that the dildo lowers past the base of the chair, and lets you sit. Your skirt is so short that there’s no cover at all, and you can feel the very tip of the cold silicone brush over your folds. Once you put your back directly against the chair, and let your feet loosely rest on the carpet, you adjust your hips slightly so that it’s pressing against your entrance, and you glance up at your boyfriends for approval, feeling the budding excitement and nerves in your chest.

Namjoon comes over to help V do up the buckles, starting to bind your legs to the chair. “Now, baby girl,” he says conversationally, “Master Min and his slave are very kindly letting us watch them, so you better be a good girl and enjoy the show quietly. I’m sure you can learn something from Koo here.” He stands back up again, leaning over to fasten your left arm as V does the right, and soon enough you’re completely immobile for the second time in the evening. Namjoon grips your inner thigh, massaging the flesh with a humored smile. “And don’t forget, no cumming without permission.”

He reaches behind you, lifting something off the back of the chair, attached by a cord. You look over, to see something akin to a half-sized TV remote, with several settings and options. He winks at you, and presses one, watching between your legs carefully.

You gasp and tense up when the dildo begins to move, pressing up into you unbelievably slowly. Even though it penetrates you at a glacial pace, clearly just to make sure you’re at the right angle to take it safely, it’s an odd sensation having something push up into you so unforgivingly. No matter how hard you clench, it breaches your walls deeper and deeper, until just when it’s about to be too far, it begins to recede again. You let out a heaving sigh as it slowly pulls out of you, before coming to a stop.

“Good?” he questions, though you know by the way you’re already angling your hips better against it that he can see you are enjoying it. Nonetheless, you nod, and he hums happily. “Alright. Now we’re gonna sit quietly and nicely and watch these two gentlemen, okay?”

You go to nod again but let out a surprised yelp as he steps right behind you and tips the chair back. You feel your chest lurch as the legs slip out from under you, but they stop when you reach a 45-degree angle, and slowly you’re rolled a little closer, facing the two men directly. More chairs are pulled up; Namjoon and V on one side of you and Hoseok on the other.

Your hands grip the arms of the chair tightly, fighting the urge to reach out to your boyfriends, who barely give you a second glance, though Namjoon’s hand slips behind your hair to rest on the nape of your neck, the weight of it as both a comfort and a reminder of who was in control here. You tilt your head back and hum happily as his thumb lazily rubs back and forth, keeping you calm.

In front of you, Min takes one last look out to make sure you’re all seated, before turning back to look down at his slave. “Koo, why is that mouth of yours still open?” The younger shuts his mouth quickly with a barely-audible pop, and swallows, eyes as wide as ever. “Does it feel empty, hm? Want something between those pretty lips of yours?”

The sub nods, thighs clenching with visible excitement as Min sits on the edge of the bed beside him and spreads his legs. Though you notice the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips, he remains still kneeling patiently. All it takes is a nod from his master, however, for Koo to dart forward, hands fumbling eagerly at Min’s belt, tugging it through the belt loops of his pants so voraciously that Min’s hips almost get pulled off the mattress. You widen your eyes at just how spirited Koo is about sucking someone else off. As much as you didn’t mind giving your boyfriends blowjobs, you would always much rather their cocks somewhere else. But as you sit tied to the chair, the threat of the blunt tip of the dildo resting dormant between your outer folds, you feel a heat build in your stomach at the display of total devotion.

As Min lifts his hips to help Koo pull down his pants and underwear, not a moment is lost before the submissive wraps his lips around him and sucks him down as far as he can manage on the first go. Min’s chest heaves with a surprised huff, and a lazy grin tugs at his lips. “That’s it, good boy,” he breathes through a sigh of pleasure, and even though the comment is clearly not directed at you, you feel yourself dripping with need.

You turn your head to the side, towards Namjoon. As you do so, his hand comes around to brush fondly at your cheek. Rather than verbalising it, you wiggle your hips slightly against the chair and the dildo below and pout pleadingly at him. He flicks you a genial smile and takes his hand away from your face to fiddle with the controls.

Your mouth drops open silently when you feel the dildo push up into you, at least twice the speed of the tester run, though still slow enough that it makes no noise.

A violent shiver breaks goosebumps across your arms as you feel a warm breath waft against your opposite shoulder. “Don’t forget to keep quiet,” you hear Hoseok remind you. When you look over to face him, your noses bump, and even as your heart skips a beat at the proximity, you’re leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips.

Half-expecting him to pull away, you feel your insides go weak when he indulges you, slipping a hand around your neck where Namjoon’s was earlier to pull you closer, grounding you with deep swipes of his tongue even as the dildo fucks up into you on it’s slow yet insistent cycle. If you arch your back just right, you can get it to brush against your g-spot when it enters you, and your breath picks up, kisses growing sloppier as you begin to regularly grind against it, quiet moans smothered by Hoseok’s mouth.

When he finally pulls away, you blink open your eyes in just enough time to see a fat string of saliva between you, which stretches until it breaks, spattering on your chin. Hoseok gently shifts his hand to grip your jaw, guiding your attention back onto the two men in front of you.

You suck your slightly swollen bottom lip into your mouth to muffle a groan at what you’re greeted by. Min has a hand firmly bunched in Koo’s hair, holding him down onto his cock as the sub writhes and clutches at Min’s knees, whining. After a moment of struggling, Koo is pulled off him by the grip on his hair, and he sucks in heaved gasps of air, eyes watering. Through the involuntary tears, you can see the same hazy look in Koo’s eyes that you sometimes saw on yourself when you went to the bathroom to clean up after a scene with your boyfriends. It’s clear to you that even as he gurgles and trembles helplessly when he’s pushed back down, he’s loving it, and his gaze doesn’t leave Min for a second. Above him, though lidded with pleasure, you can see the adoration and fondness in Min’s eyes too. It’s undeniable just how much they love each other.

Your breath catches in your throat as the pace is suddenly picked up on the machine, a gentle metallic whir piercing the lull on your end of the room, and your gaze shoots over to Namjoon as the dildo rocks up into you fast enough for you to begin to shiver. When you do, you see it’s not Namjoon that has the remote, but V beside him. With one arched eyebrow, like he’s testing you, V holds a single finger up to his lips and mouths ‘shh’.

Your nails dig into the wood of the chair, and you bite down harshly on your tongue to prevent any moans escaping, nodding shakily. His eyes sparkle with mirth as he smiles, handing the remote back to Namjoon. Your eyes follow the transfer and look up at your boyfriend’s face, but he’s more focussed on what’s going on in front of you, a confused turn to his lips.

You stare forward, and see that the two have changed positions slightly. Barely coherent with the fucking machine driving up into you at an infuriatingly regular and unforgiving pace, you do your best to focus in to what’s going on.

Min is still on the edge of the bed, however he’s leaning down as Koo whispers something in his ear, ducking his head shyly once he’s done. Min sighs, but gives his sub a warm smile and gently pinches at his nose and pats his cheek, looking up at the four of you.

You let out an involuntary guttural whine when the dildo comes to a sudden stop, halfway inside you. Your walls clench around the couple of inches still inside, too shallow to get any real pleasure, but too deep to be able to rock your clit against it. It seems Namjoon has turned it off while V stands up and consults with Min.

You stare, thighs clenching and unclenching at the strange and unsatisfying sensation of the dildo. After a moment, V returns, walking leisurely over to the wall and unplugging the machine. Your mouth drops open in confusion.

“Sorry it’s such a quick show, folks, Kookie is apparently getting a bit shy.” Min tucks himself away and crouches down to press a soft peck to the younger man’s pink cheeks. “We don’t get to come here that often, I think he just wants all my attention on him, isn’t that right?”

Koo’s teeth come out to bite at his lip, failing to suppress a sheepish smile. Caught out, he nods cheekily.

Min weakly slaps his cheek, a playful scolding. “Well, you’ll get your wish, Kookie. The others are going to leave now. You wanna give them a kiss goodbye and say thank you?”

The sub is granted permission to stand up, and bounds over to press a quick kiss on V’s cheek, then Namjoon’s, before he reaches you. His eyes widen at your state, eyes hazed with pleasure and bare pussy leaking down the opening in the chair, and does a double take like he hadn’t noticed it before. Lightning fast, he ducks down and quickly presses his lips against the top of your cheekbone. You turn your head slightly to receive it, his lips unbelievably soft and still a little wet from saliva. He murmurs a quick, “thank you for watching” in your ear and moves on, doing the same to Hoseok before returning to his master, standing until he’s given the command to get on the bed beside him.

Koo quietly leans into Min’s clothed-chest and lets the older one wrap his arm around his shoulders, keeping him close. The two stay entwined like that, conversing under their breath, as your doms stand up and begin to unbuckle you from the chair, carefully lifting you off of the dildo.

You let out a grateful hum as Namjoon effortlessly lifts you into his arms, one hand under your ass, where your arousal has totally soaked the back of your short skirt. You feel more than hear him speak with the others, as his chest rumbles against your ear, and you let your eyes fall closed, wrapping your arms and legs around him tightly and snuggling in. Perhaps it was seeing the tenderness between the two men you had just watched, but you felt your bratty streak begin to settle down, just wanting to be close with your boyfriends.

You hear a door open, and suddenly you’re moving as Namjoon walks out. You let out a groan. “‘S it over?” you mumble into the warm skin of the crook of his neck, breathing in his natural musk paired with the simple cologne he had put on earlier in the night.

He chuckles. “No, baby girl. We’ll find somewhere else to go. Do you still want to keep playing? It is getting quite late.”

You sit up, blinking at your surroundings as they lurch around him, making your way back around the mezzanine towards the stairs. “I wanna keep playing, Daddy. Where’s Hoseokie?”

“That’s Sir to you,” you hear a voice from over your back call out. Hoseok must be leading the group. You clutch onto Namjoon tighter as you begin to descend the steps to the main playroom. “I don’t know if we’ll be able to find a station, kitten. It’s closing time soon so most of them are taken or blocked off for cleaning.”

“Let’s just fuck on the floor,” you quip back, reveling in the hearty laugh that shakes Namjoon’s shoulders.

“As much as I liked seeing you at our mercy, I have missed your snark, princess,” your boyfriend admits. “Bear with the no-speaking rule when V is around for tonight, and we can rework our rules tomorrow.”

You hum, wiggling your toes as the strength gradually returns to your limbs. “Where is V?”

Hoseok’s voice is thick with humour. “Weren’t you listening, little sub?” He laughs as you kick out weakly at the pet name your ‘Master’ had chosen to use. “He got called away. Something about helping out a sub that came alone or something.”

“Oh.” You can’t quite work out if what you’re feeling is dissatisfaction at still not having cum the entire night or disappointment that the other man left without saying goodbye. “Where are we gonna play, then?”

Namjoon grunts with exertion. “Okay, down you hop.” You do as he says, joints stiff as you slip in front of him to follow behind Hoseok. Namjoon’s voice continues from behind you. “We’re going to find that Jimin dude and ask if he knows of any free spots. Keep an eye out for him, baby girl.”

The use of ‘baby girl’ rather than just ‘baby’ gently reinforces you that the roles are still in place. Although having to move locations, your two boyfriends - as well as you - clearly want the scene to continue. “Yes, Daddy,” you affirm compliantly.

It takes a couple of times circling and winding between stations before you spot him. He’s not in that same corner from before, but instead you find him at the bar, nursing a glass bottle of coke. He looks up in mild interest as you approach, before widening his eyes once he recognises the three of you.

“V’s studious apprentices,” he greets warmly, eyes lingering on the wetness on your thighs visible past the hem of your skirt. “How may I be of assistance?”

Like it’s choreographed, Namjoon and Hoseok both reach out to touch you; Hoseok, slipping his fingers into yours, and Namjoon placing his hand possessively around your shoulders. You smother a smirk at the way Jimin’s eyes dart up and waver back and forth, sizing the two doms up before his shoulders lower in defeat.

“We just wanted to see if there were any free stations,” Hoseok explains. “I figured if your job is to supervise, you’d know.” Hoseok takes another glance at the languid curve of Jimin’s body as he leans against the bench, and the coke bottle dripping condensation over his fingers. The unspoken implication of Hoseok’s statement hangs in the air, as your two boyfriends share a look over your shoulder.. When he thinks your boyfriends aren’t looking, the DM flicks you a cheeky wink. The moment the two men turn back, his face falls frigid again.

“I’m on break,” Jimin explains petulantly, gesturing to the neon badge which has been unclipped from his shirt and is resting beside the cardboard coaster. “But no, sadly there aren’t. The last hour and a half before closing is our busiest time since everyone figures it’s their last chance to get in a scene. We do have five different stations in the process of being cleaned, though.” Using the neck of the half-empty bottle to point, the DM indicates a few different spots that are cordoned off with orange tape, the same neon as his badge. “That one just began a minute or so ago, so that’s out of commission for the night, that one has been being cleaned for a good twenty minutes but it was wax play which is quite difficult to get out of the furniture without damaging it, and those two on the far side have been reserved already. Your best bet is the sawhorse down past the restrooms, but you’re looking at a good fifteen, twenty minutes for them to finish up.” Spiel done, he lowers his eyebrows and quirks his lips smugly. “So yes, I suppose I was the right person to come to. And if I was on duty, I would’ve been able to go over and reserve it for you, but since I’m not, you’ll just have to fight to be the quickest to snatch it up. Pity.”

Hoseok’s grip tightens around your hand. “Thank you for your help. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” His nostrils flare, and you feel a tug on his wrist as he begins to pull you away.

Jimin holds his defiant stare for a moment longer before breaking out into a cheery grin, giggling at the matching looks of confusion. “I’m just messing with you! I’m not even on break, us DMs get one free drink a night to keep us going. Come on, while you wait I can grab you a spare trolley and you can use some of the toys at the bar if you want. We actually aren’t allowed to reserve stations, though; so sadly you will still have to snag the spot when it opens up. Come with me, I spotted a free trolley down here.”

As the four of you make your way through the gatherings of people, you remark at how quickly you’ve accustomed to the place. The smell of sweat and arousal has increased over the evening, but you barely notice it, and it’s easy enough to tune out pleasured cries and cracks of whips even as you walk right past them. As your two boyfriends mutter behind you, you hear Jimin murmur to you and jog to catch up and walk beside him.

“2 years,” he starts with a self-satisfied grin, “2 years I’ve worked here and I still marvel at the way I can one-up even the most hardcore dominants. I swear this job has increased my confidence like nothing else.”

You laugh. “You do that often, then?”

“God, yeah,” he admits easily. “Gotta make things fun when you can. As long as I’m serious whenever a scene is taking place, or there’s a situation, the owner kinda lets me take some liberties.”

“Who is the owner?” you question curiously. You can’t help but wonder what type of person would open a business like this.

Jimin smiles with mirth but doesn’t answer. “Well, here it is,” he states instead, reaching out and grabbing an unclaimed trolley that was previously sitting abandoned by a set of stocks. “Looks like there are some things missing, but it’s the best you’re gonna get this time of night. People aren’t meant to hog them for more than two hours but it’s kind of a courtesy thing, not a hard rule, so there’s not much we can do.” He looks up as your two boyfriends join you. “You folks need anything else?”

“That’s all,” Hoseok says shortly, still clearly not over the jig Jimin pulled. “Come on, kitten, let’s go find a table.”

Rather than the bar, which Jimin returns to to finish off his drink, you’re tugged unceremoniously down to the small socialising area, which is all but empty by now. They’ve even lowered the lights, and your eyes are happy to have a break from the brightness of the main play area.

In the far back, there are a couple of booths, all vacant, and Hoseok sits on the side in the corner, gesturing for you to sit across from him. You slide in, sighing at the plush upholstery that soothes your still slightly aching ass. Once the trolley is pushed up beside the outer edge of the table, Namjoon slides in beside you, moving over to the middle of the seat so that you’re pressed snugly between him and the wall. You gasp at the sudden warm of his body flush against yours, and feel need wash through you for the thousandth time this evening. Your mouth opens to plead for something, anything, but he beats you to the punch.

“Baby girl, we know you’re probably feeling pretty desperate, hm? You want our cocks?”

You let out a moan at his words. “Yes,” you croak, “please.” A violent shudder runs through you when you feel the tip of a shoe run up your shin, and pushes at the knee closest to the wall until you’re parting your legs. You glance over at Hoseok, who’s leaning back languidly in his seat, though his eyes are predatorial and his grin is sharp.

Namjoon’s eyes dart over to Hoseok, then at you, and finally down past the edge of the table, where your skirt is rising up dangerously high as Hoseok keeps you spread open. “We should get you ready to take us, then.” Your mouth drops open in a silent moan, incoherent as Namjoon reaches down in one smooth movement and cups your pussy, two fingers dipping in automatically with how sopping wet you are. “Fuck,” he hisses, but you just bite your lip and try and rock your hips forward, wanting him deeper.

Hoseok feels you shift and tuts, pinning your leg more firmly against the wall. “Careful, kitten,” he warns, “do you really want to risk punishment when we only have-” he breaks off to consult his watch, “twenty-three minutes before closing?”

You swallow and force yourself to stay still, but that doesn’t stop you from clenching tightly around the tips of Namjoon’s fingers, drawing another hiss from the man.

“Besides,” Namjoon drawls, massaging his palm against you slightly so that your clit got the slightest hint of friction, “if you want both of us we better prepare you first.” His eyes don’t leave yours, a caramel smile tugging at his lips as those fingers slip out, only to seek another entrance lower down. “Will you be good for us?”

You nod hurriedly, shakily, as a single finger teases at your rim. “I’ll be good, Daddy.” Your voice cracks on the last word, but it just makes him grin, flashing teeth wolfishly.

You exhale roughly when suddenly he pulls away from you, sliding to the outskirts of the booth. With glossily wet fingers, he slaps your bare thigh, pinching lightly at the flesh. “Face down, ass up,” he commands, “we can’t prepare you properly if you’re sitting down.”

You open your mouth to protest, but Hoseok’s foot leaves you too, and the dark impatience in his eyes as he cocks his head forces you into action. As you scramble to bring your knees up on the cushioning, you cringe at the audible wet noises and the slipperiness of your thighs. You groan at how empty you feel when you arch your back obscenely for them, cheek planted against the seat.

Your face is below the table, and it takes your eyes a moment to adjust to the darker setting, sighing in relief as you feel the calloused palms of your boyfriend roam over your ass, hips and thighs. About fucking time.

You let your gaze rest lazily on Hoseok’s ringed fingers as they rest on his thighs, framing the tent in his crotch that you can barely make out in the shadows, eyes falling to half mast as you feel Namjoon collecting your slick on a single finger, before beginning the first press into your puckered hole.

You take deep breaths, forcing your muscles to relax, and let out a high whine as it sinks suddenly to the base knuckle, crooking inside you exploratively.

“Good girl,” Namjoon passionately praises, placing his free hand on your lower back to keep you arched for him as he fucks you on his one finger until you’re relaxed enough to take a second.

Your jaw is unable to close and you feel drool gathering in the corner of your mouth, and you squeeze your eyes shut at the intense sensation after so much deprivation. It’s not until he works his way to three fingers, curling and scissoring them inside you, that you hear a masculine grunt and crack one back open. The sight that greets you makes you clench violently around Namjoon, and he has to lightly smack your ass for you to relax again.

Across from you, with legs splayed wide, Hoseok has reached into his pants, tucking his cock out so that just the head peeks out past the waistband of his underwear. Even in the dim lighting, you can see how flushed it is, a deep purple-red that glints with precum when the lazily thumbs at the slit, just enough to keep himself on edge but not nearly enough to get close to cumming.

Automatically, your hand slips off the seat and stretches out to reach for him, but you cry out when Namjoon’s hand snakes around your elbow and roughly tugs your arm away, pinning it to your back. You feel the muscles in your thighs shiver uncontrollably as he plunges his fingers repeatedly into your tight hole, almost too much at once.

After an uncountable amount of time, the three of you are made to pause when the electrical crackle of a loudspeaker resonantes through the room. You let out a frustrated groan as you hear it declare the club to be closing, instructing all patrons to make their way to the exits or the showers, Namjoon’s fingers slipping wetly out of you moments later. Bonelessly, your hips fall to the side and bang on the tabletop.

“Dammit,” you whine hopelessly. “Please, Namjoon, I’m gonna go crazy, just fuck me quickly now and we can finish at home, please.”

“All this time,” a familiar voice calls out in bemusement, “and the sub still hasn’t learnt to refer to her doms by their appropriate titles.”

You jump, hustling to push your knees back down and twist, sitting down normally again to look past Namjoon. Master V stands just past the booth, hair more tousled than when you had last seen him and dark red lines across the exposed skin of his sternum where someone had clearly scratched him. “What are you doing here?” you ask automatically, mind not even comprehending the fact that you’d broken protocol yet again.

V simply raises his eyebrows at you warningly before turning to your boyfriends. “If you wanna stay longer, you can. Employee perks,” he explains. “The one catch is that you can’t use the stations because they all need cleaning at this point.”

Hoseok purses his lips together in thought. “That’s fine,” he dismisses. “We can find someplace. Anyone thirsty?”

You blink, not understanding the statement, but clearly the others do. Namjoon wraps a strong arm around your torso, just under your breasts, and pulls you off the seat so that your back is pressed against his chest and the tips of your toes barely brush the carpet. “Hey-!” you squeak, feeling even more worked up now that the time restraint on the club had interrupted your fun yet again.

Without missing a beat, V and Hoseok reach out, latching tightly onto one ankle each and lifting you so that you’re swinging horizontally between the three, dipping at the waist.

You grumble as they carry you away from the tables, following the edge of the room to arrive at the bar. Jimin has left, as have everyone else, only the last few stragglers making their way to the exits. “Are you finally gonna fuck me then?” you complain in frustration. You swear to God if you don’t get at least one of them inside you in the next five minutes, you’ll go insane.

V, not even turning back to look at you, scoffs. “You haven’t learnt a fucking thing, have you?”

“What?” you fire back, too consumed by a lust-driven haze to care about consequences.

“Right now, little sub, your body is ours. We get to decide whether you get fucked or not, so this whole time you’ve been making trouble when you should’ve been sucking up. If you don’t get what you want, that’s nobody’s fault but yours.” His nails dig into the sensitive skin around your ankle, and you feel it raise, as you’re lifted higher in the air and unceremoniously dumped on a surface taller than a table, and narrow. You crane your neck up, eyes wide as you see where you are. As V temporarily lets go to walk around the edge and rejoin on the other side, you realise they’ve splayed you out on the bar, one man on either side to keep your legs wide open, and Namjoon’s hand rising up your chest to wrap lightly, warningly, around your throat, pushing your head back down so that you can only see him and the high ceiling above. V’s voice comes from below, a stern growl. “So far tonight you haven’t done a single thing to earn one of our cocks in that messy pussy of yours, understand? Now you have to lie back and take what you’re fucking given.”

“This isn’t fucking fair,” you cry out in frustration, tears pricking at your eyes. “I just need to cu-um.” Your core feels neglected, almost painful in its longing for sensation. As you attempt to kick your legs out, you realise something. Your hands are free.

As fast as you can, you shove both between your legs, one plunging three fingers deep into your pussy, the other rubbing frantically at your swollen clit. You let the tears fall, sobbing at the relief, but it’s short lived. With a disappointed shout, Namjoon grabs your hands together with his free one. You howl as he rips them away from you, keeping them captive pinned to the middle of your torso.

Hoseok slaps you sharply right on your folds, making you jump. “This is our pussy, kitten. Paws off.”

“Please,” you scream, “I’ll do anything, come on!”

Driven half-mad by need, you barely hear V as he mutters to the other two. “Okay, she’s there. It’s time.”

You look up in confusion, as much as you can with the weight of Namjoon’s hand around your neck, and immediately your eyes roll back into your head with relief. A steady thrum of power reinforces what you saw. V holding a battery-run Hitachi vibrator.

The second he places it against your clit, you see a white-hot flash behind your eyelids as the powerful vibration sends you violently into your first orgasm after what must be over four hours of waiting.

“That’s it,” V coos, voice dripping with pure satisfaction, “take it all.”

You moan, a low garble in your throat, as the pleasure ripples through you, tingling in your fingertips and the skin of your calves where Hoseok and V hold on tightly, keeping you prone on the benchtop even as your muscles seize and tense as much as they can, feeling like you need to curl up into a ball around the epicenture of your orgasmic euphoria.

“Tha-ank you,” you sob out desperately, hands digging into the soft flesh of your stomach, the only part of your body you can really move as you’re pinned down by the strength of your three doms.

“Thank Master,” V commands shortly.

Tears pool in your temples as the pleasure begins to slowly settle, even as the vibrations continue. “Thank you, Master,” you praise mindlessly.

“Thank your other doms too,” he reminds, twisting his wrist so that the vibrator pushes your hood aside, resting against your bared clit, and you let out a weakened scream as the pleasure begins to prickle, overwhelming you.

“Thank you, Daddy, thank you, Sir,” you make out through shudders, your eyebrows knitting, unsure whether what you’re feeling is pleasure anymore or just pain. “N-no, too much,” you protest, swearing colorfully when V simply runs the Hitachi back and forth across your clit, sending sharp spikes of stimulation through you.

“No?” Hoseok questions rhetorically. “I thought you wanted to cum, you greedy slut.”

“Too much,” you repeat weakly.

“I don’t care,” he counters, “cum again.”

You let out a loud sustained moan as pain returns to pleasure in a hot flash, and you’re pitched over the edge again, tensing up and trying to grind your hips into the sensation as you gush over it, and all over V’s hand. You hear him laughing at you as you go fully limp, energy gone as your nerves run alight through your body.

“Not so brave now, are you?” he remarks dryly, chuckling again when you simply let out an incoherent moan.

You expect he’s made his point now that your body has given up the fight, but instead all you get is a warning click before he’s turning up the power of the vibrator to another level.

You hear yourself yell out, louder than you’ve been all night, unable to stop from screaming and shouting in stuttered moans as you’re wracked with blinding, overwhelming pleasure. “Not again,” you beg, “no more, I can’t-”

Your protests are cut off by a strong call coming from far away. The vibrator is clicked off immediately, and you go lax in relief, though your pussy continues to tremble uncontrollably as you pant on the sweat-soaked bar.

You don’t have any energy to look up properly, but you tiredly turn your head to the side to see an unfamiliar figure approach.

He’s dressed somewhat like Namjoon, with dress pants and an ironed shirt, but a deep navy suit jacket finishes up his outfit, hair carefully styled so that even as he stomps over, it stays in place swept to the side to reveal some of his forehead and brows. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, making a racket after closing?”

Master V pauses, his grip on your calf instinctively loosening. “You said we were allowed to, Jin.”

“I didn’t expect you’d be bringing so many friends,” Jin defends, “normally your subs are so quiet that it’s never been a problem.” His gaze falls on you and you hiccup as the last of the shivers run through you. “What are you doing to this poor girl?”

A tired smile plays at your lips in relief. Sure, it was a little embarrassing having what must be the owner of the place walk in on you, but at least Hoseok and Namjoon would have no choice but to leave with you. You’d have an Uber ride to recover, and then by the time you reached your apartment they’d be so desperate that they’d give in straight away and fuck you. You just about hum audibly at the thought.

“I thought I taught you better,” the stranger criticises with a disappointed look as he approaches to stand at the edge of the bench.

V bites his lip, placing the Hitachi on the counter in resignation, flicking your boyfriends an apologetic look. “Sorry, Jin, I-”

“If you’re gonna overstimulate a sub, you need to make sure she won’t wake the neighbors,” Jin interrupts, picking up the toy himself. “And for fuck’s sake, use one of the pulse settings so her clit doesn’t get used to it. You in the white shirt, tighten your grip around her throat.”

Your eyes widen and you open your mouth to protest, but Namjoon effectively cuts you off by pressing you more firmly to the bench, thumb and forefinger on either side of the column of your throat, intruding on your airways enough to make you groan gutturally.

You jump as you feel a sharp pinch on your inner thigh. “Alright, sub, your safeword is now making two fists and shaking your hands. Do it know so I know you can.”

The pressure on your throat eases slightly as you suck in a breath and follow the owner’s command, relaxing your hands again once he grunts in affirmation.

The pulsating whine of the vibrator fills the air after he clicks it back on. “Good, now lie there and shut up while I show these men how it’s done.”

The brief respite on your poor clit clearly isn’t enough as the second the toy is placed back on you, you let out a shriek that’s cut off midway as Namjoon tightens his grip around your throat again. You thrash as much as you can, but now that Hoseok and V both have two hands on you again, there’s no way you can overpower them.

“Bend her knees,” Jin commands, “open her up for me.”

You moan, drooling unwittingly as they obey, feeling your pelvis shift up so that you’re fully vulnerably to the attack on your abused clit.

“This way,” the boss instructs, “no matter how much she wriggles, she can’t escape it, and you’ve got free access to everything else too.”

Crying out as incomprehensible stimulation is forced on you by the flickering of the toy over your bud, you scratch and grab and bat at the flesh of your stomach, careful to make sure you don’t curl your fingers into fists.

When your third orgasm tears through you, all sensation cuts out for the briefest second, everything going black for one blissful moment before you’re taken over by the warm rush, feeling release like you never have before. Namjoon releases his grip on your throat, and the sudden return of oxygen pitches you into euphoria, too far gone to do anything more than whimpering.

Jin holds you there, in that totally mindless state for a few more trembling seconds before he flicks it off and dumps it on the bartop. “Got my fucking sleeve wet,” he mutters to himself, before reaching out and massaging your inner thigh reassuringly, relaxing the muscles. “Have you ever made your girl squirt before?”

Namjoon’s voice is reluctant. “Not yet.”

“Looks like you have some more learning to do yourself, then. Sub; are you still with us?”

You’re shaking like a leaf, but Hoseok helps prop you up, letting your leg flop weakly off the edge of the bench. You look down and see the wet shine of the table between your legs, and the dark splotches covering Jin’s suit. “Wh-why would you do that?” you question, your voice wobbling from sheer exhaustion. “Aren’t you meant to be professional?”

His eyes darken, a brow arching delicately. “You seem to forget what my profession is, young lady.” Lifting his gaze to include the three other men, he lets out a patient sigh. “The night cleaners will be arriving in a couple of minutes, and I will not be fronting a late fee if they have to wait around for you jokers to get your rocks off.”

Namjoon nods understandingly. “That’s alright, we can be out of your wa-”

“So if you’d like to fuck her,” the owner continues on, “you’re going to have to come do it in my office. It gets cleaned last, so you’ll have more time.”

Your mouth drops open.

Namjoon and Hoseok share a glance with each other, then at V. Finally, Namjoon reaches down and brushes back some of the hair back that had gotten stuck on your face. “It’s up to you, baby girl,” he says with a fond smile. “Either the two of us can take you home and fuck you there, or you can stay here and have all of us.”

Your mouth waters, eyes lingering on V, how sinful he looks with black locks low over his brow, tanned skin beaded with sweat. Your gaze lowers, taking in the way his erection strains under his pants. This whole time, he had been calmly in control, always composed, even when you had acted out more than you ever had before. You wanted to see him how he’d seen you; out of your mind with pleasure. You wanted to see him let go. “I wanna stay, Daddy.”

“Then we’ll stay.”

The way to Jin’s office is longer than expected, and your legs tremble so violently that the group of you move at a near-glacial pace up the stairs to the second floor, going to the right instead of the left like last time when you reach the mezzanine. There’s a side corridor that you hadn’t noticed earlier, the entrance partly concealed by a lube-and-condoms refill station. You take that, the five of you winding down single-file with the owner himself taking the lead, down to V at the rear.

Upon arriving and being let inside, you loiter uncertainly just inside the doorway beside your two boyfriends as Jin walks behind the desk and takes a seat. Even if it wasn’t for the fact that the evening’s protocol forbids you from speaking out of turn (as if you ever really followed it), you can’t bring yourself to form a single sentence.

Luckily, Hoseok can. “Aren’t you gonna leave?” he asks brusquely.

Jin smiles patiently, holding his palms out in a broad gesture. “This is my office. I said you could use it, and you can.” He lets the statement hang in the air as he loosens his tie with a shit eating grin. “Whenever you’re ready.”

You swallow hard and look over to the other men.  Even though you had been seen by an entire club of people downstairs in your most vulnerable moments, they were all occupied, and there were so many that it didn’t feel real. Now, with Jin’s eyes heavy on you, waiting, there’s something far more intimidating about it.

Hoseok has a glimmer of something in his eyes, and murmurs in Namjoon’s ear, grin stretching across his face as he whispers, until Namjoon shares that same look. Without speaking, your younger boyfriend makes his way over to one of the chairs and sits down in it. It looks expensive; deep maroon upholstery with a mahogany base. He spreads his legs wide, and silently pats his thigh, eyes locked onto you.

You bite your lip and walk over, feeling a strange pressure in your chest at the silence. All eyes are on you. You just wish someone would say something. You bump knees with Namjoon still standing, but pause.

“Have you gotten all shy on us now, kitten?”

You mentally sigh in relief, turning to Hoseok and nodding. He doesn’t smile but his eyes crinkle as he steps forward, flattening your hair with his palm and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

“I think I know what you need,” he answers, “to take the pressure off.”

You blink in confusion as he leaves your side, strolling around to desk to the owner, who’s seated at his desk chair, aimlessly swivelling back and forth. Jin stops when Hoseok plants himself between the man’s knees and reaches down. With wary eyes, Jin waits as Hoseok fully loosens the man’s tie, slipping it off completely and bringing it back to you.

“Turn around,” he commands firmly, and you obey without thought, feeling comforted in his guidance. The fabric falls down sideways over your eyes, and you gasp silently in realisation as he fastens the makeshift blindfold with a knot at the back of your head. “Better?” he questions, and you nod hastily, already calming down and not feeling so exposed. “Then go sit on Daddy’s cock.”

You shudder, feet stumbling as Hoseok’s hand on your back guides to to the chair, almost tripping over one of Namjoon’s shoes. The seated man reaches out and grips your hips and you let your knees buckle, straddling him in the armchair. The feeling of his hard crotch rubbing against your still-sensitive core is enough to make you let out an unconscious whimper, and he chuckles lowly in your ear as you let your head rest on his shoulder.

“Joonie,” you mumble. Immediately, a sharp swat  lands on your ass, and you jump. With no other context, you don’t even know who did it. It didn’t feel like Namjoon’s arms moved at all. “Daddy.”

“Right,” he states with a squeeze to your hip. “Sit up, Daddy’s waited for that pretty pussy long enough.”

You whine and comply, raising yourself up on your knees, tilting your chin as your ears desperately train in on the delicate sound of a zipper being lowered. You hiss in a breath when you feel his cockhead run through your folds, catching the overstimulated tip of your clit, before pushing it back to rest snugly at your entrance. Your thighs ache with the need to sit, but you force yourself to wait, fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt over his shoulders tightly.

The guiding pressure of his hands on your upper hips are your only instruction before you begin to sink down onto him. Even if you weren’t blindfolded, you wouldn’t be able to see a thing anyway with the way your eyes squeeze tightly shut, eyebrows knitting together as your mouth drops open. He’s big, thicker than the dildo on the fucking machine but just about as hard, swearing profusely when your wet heat envelops him inch by glorious inch. You’re so wet from the previous teasing and orgasms, and so needy to be filled, that the moment he bottoms out in you, you’re steadying yourself on him for leverage and beginning to ride him, head tipping back in ecstasy.

“Good, baby girl?”

You bite your lip and nod, feeling him strike nerves deep inside of you with every bounce. “So good, Daddy, fuck.” He rewards your compliment by propping his feet on the floor and beginning to thrust up into you, grunting with the exertion. A warm curl of pleasure begins to build deep inside you at the satisfaction of finally being fucked properly, and you work your thighs, meeting him halfway on every thrust, deepening his reach.

Your body stiffens when he suddenly pushes down heavily on your hips, halting your thrusts and holding you pinned fully onto him. “No, Daddy, please, don’t do thi-”

“Sh, don’t worry,” Namjoon soothes quickly, palms gripping meaty handfuls of your ass and massaging them reassuringly, spreading you apart. “We aren’t going to tease you anymore, princess, but you don’t want Daddy cumming before anyone else has joined in, now do you? Who do you want next? Who’s gonna fill that tight little ass of yours?”

You shudder, but your answer is immediate. “I want Sir.”

“Ask nicely.”

You turn your head blindly around in the direction you vaguely remember Hoseok last standing in. “Sir, please, I need you inside me. I’ll be good.” You startle, clenching tightly around Namjoon when you feel a hot breath on the back of your neck, and Hoseok’s hands - cold where the rings touch you - run up your back to rest on your waist.

“Okay, kitten. Ass up for me.”

You whine and obey, tilting forward so that your back arches forward onto Namjoon’s solid frame and your hips are tilted back for better access. You can’t help but clench when you feel the blunt head of his cock pressing at the tight right of your ass, muscles fluttering around the attempted intrusion. Namjoon swears as his cock is milked by your walls, but Hoseok simply swats you on your ass, matching the sting of the strike from earlier.

“Take it,” he hisses, before you hear him spit, the fluid landing on you, some slipping in as you fight to relax your muscles. He pushes in again, and this time you accept it, crying out as he thrusts forward, fucking up into you in one smooth motion. As you adjust to both men inside you, you feel the lubed-up rubber of a condom around Hoseok. Almost delirious with the sensation of fullness, your mind cooks up the image of Hoseok fiddling with a condom packet, trying to be quiet as you bounced on Namjoon’s cock. A smile tugs at your lips, but it’s dropped when Hoseok suddenly draws away and snaps his hips, plunging in to the hilt at the same time that Namjoon bends forward and begins to bite at your nipples through the fabric.

“Is something funny to you?” Hoseok asks through a tensed jaw.

You wince at the feeling of teeth around your sore nipple even as deep pleasure makes your toes curl. “No,” you protest weakly, another moan being ripped from your throat as Hoseok begins a regular pace. With every thrust, you feel the wall between Namjoon and Hoseok, the two of them filling you in a way you had become addicted to over the years. “God, don’t stop.”

“I know something that’ll wipe that smirk off your fuckin’ face,” he huffs out, and your heart skips a beat until you hear a third voice.

“Open up, little sub,” you hear V mutter, and you moan when you feel his cock tapping teasingly on your cheek.

You open your jaw wide and stick your tongue out, turning your head to the side his cock was on, waiting for it. You hear him chuckle and pat your tongue with the head, salting it with his precum before sliding down. Your mouth closes around him and sucks, and he lets out a low groan, his hand on the back of your head as he guides you.

Even though it was a relief earlier, now you curse the blindfold. There’s nothing you want more than to watch V’s face as he finally comes apart on your tongue, and the image of it alone makes your mouth water, deepening your bobs as you strain to take him all in. While most cocks feel large when they’re spreading your jaw, you know he’s long, so long that even as you gag and splutter around him, your nose doesn’t once touch the skin of his stomach.

“God, look at you,” he praises, a thumb pressing at the corner of your lips to wipe away drool that had slid down, before jerking his hips so that you choked on him once again. “Do you finally feel satisfied, you greedy girl?”

You gargle around him in agreement, and he curses, fingers tightening on the crown of your head. Although they’d lain dormant while you were adjusting to a third cock, your boyfriends’ hands are all over your torso, lifting you up so that they can simultaneously fuck into you, and you let out an inhuman whine around V’s dick, one hand flying off Namjoon’s shoulder and behind you to push at Hoseok.

V tugs you off his cock with a handful of hair and you gasp in lungfuls of air, feeling the cold air on your wet chin and cheeks. You take the chance to use your already-battered vocal cords. “Too fast,” you complain, gripping Hoseok’s wrist as he grabs your ass, keeping you spread. With that, V’s cock is thrust unceremoniously back into your throat and you cough around it, but hollow your cheeks and flick your tongue on his underside, moaning when your boyfriend heeds your words and slows down, opting to grind into you, slow and deep.

“This better, kitten?” he questions, rutting himself against you.

You go to whine enthusiastically, but a new noise takes you by surprise. An unfamiliar groan. V pulls you off him again and as you gasp to catch your breath, light pierces your eyes. You wince, panting, as the blindfold is ripped off. After adjusting to the brightness, you let him guide your gaze across the desk, where on the other side Jin sits, legs spread, gaze heavy on you with his eyebrows furrowed in focus.

He’s breathing heavily, and a flash of movement attracts your eyes downwards, where an angry red cock lies up against his stomach, a fist firmly running up and down it in indulgent tugs. His knuckles are glossy with precum and his pupils are blown wide, and you feel your mouth water at the fact that the image of you alone was enough to make him this desperate.

That thought lights a fire within you, a need, and you bend down to take V in your mouth again, freeing a hand to reach out and jerk off what doesn’t fit in your mouth. He swears at your renewed efforts, gathering your hair into a ponytail so that it doesn’t cover your face. As you do this, you grind yourself between the two cocks you’re impaled on, moaning wantonly at the way they shift inside you, alternating.

Namjoon groans and slips his hands around your hips more firmly, keeping you steady so that he can begin to fuck you, frenzied and desperate. “I’m so close, baby girl, keep that pussy open for me.”

You moan around V’s dick and his hips stutter at the vibration, clearly near his end too by the way he begins to lose control. You blink up through teary eyes, taking him down your throat and breathing through your nose so that you can finally watch him. The crease in his brow and the slackness of his jaw as he’s overcome by pleasure sends hot pleasure straight to your cunt.

Every time Namjoon or Hoseok thrust up into you, that spark of pleasure is ignited further and further, until you can’t even suck off V properly anymore, taking him out of your mouth to suckle at the sensitive skin instead, reaching lower to massage his balls.

The moment Hoseok reaches around to thumb at your clit and Namjoon lowers his mouth to your neck to suck a violent hickey, you’re gone. Your orgasm takes you by surprise, and you collapse, forehead knocking on Namjoon’s shoulder as the two men continue to fuck you through it, moaning sinful nothings into your ear as you gush over them, shaking bonelessly.

Above you, you hear the slick sound of V jerking off and you force your head up with the last reserves of your energy, groaning as you feel Hoseok and Namjoon release inside you; Hoseok into the condom and Namjoon painting your walls. V looks like he isn’t too far off, and he reaches down to tug at your bra, pulling it down to expose your breasts.

“You better not fucking cum on her tits, kid,” Jin warns, “I just had this carpet deep cleaned. Sub’s mouth or the trash can.”

V twitches his eyebrows with a salacious grin, not stopping for a moment. “You heard him, little sub, open up.” You lick your swollen lips and stick your tongue out, humming around the rush of cum that fills your mouth, swallowing it down. After wringing the last few spurts out, he sighs in satisfaction and draws himself out, tucking his slowly softening cock away.

You tremble violently when Hoseok pulls out of you, leaving you empty, but nothing can prepare you for the void inside you when Namjoon follows suit, immediately cupping his hand over your soiled pussy.

“Keep it in, baby girl,” he commands, “you’ve been so good for us.”

You hum warmly at the praise. “Tired,” you mumble mindlessly, letting him bundle you up on his lap as Hoseok took off the condom, knotting the end and leaving to discard it.

Namjoon pats your hair down, smoothing out the mess. “Come on, princess,” he murmurs in your ear as he looks out across the desk. “This kind young man let us use his office. Are you gonna let him use your mouth?”

Your eyes darken with exhausted lust as Jin stands up, one hand holding his pants up and the other still jerking hurriedly at his length. You nod, opening your mouth in submission as you wait for him to come over.

“Good girl,” Namjoon mutters, “you’ll let anyone take you, won’t you?”

Jin stops in front of you, gripping your hair and tipping your neck back so that you’re at the right level. You whimper as Namjoon palms your breasts possessively, rolling your nipples between his fingers as you take Jin into your mouth as deep as you can with your aching jaw. You work to bring him to the edge, knowing your energy will be fully depleted any minute now, and the owner groans at the effort.

“But whose tits are these, princess?” You gargle out a response around Jin’s thick cock, tears pricking your eyes. “And whose mouth is this?” Namjoon moves a hand up to wrap his fingers around your jaw, holding it open so that Jin can thrust inside. You groan, your reply trapped in your throat by his dick. Namjoon’s other hand leaves your tits and slips down, swiping his fingers through the cum that seeps out of your abused core. “And whose pussy is this?” You scream your reply, choking and sputtering as a hot wave of cum runs down your throat, soothing the rawness. You swallow it down and collapse back against Namjoon, spent.

For a few moments, the only sound in the room is your collective panting. Finally, V speaks. “Well; that was fun. Did you enjoy yourself, little sub?”

You let an exhausted smile tug at your lips as your eyes flutter shut. “Yes,” you sigh. “Thank you, Master.”

He chuckles warmly. “Guess you learned your lesson tonight, after all.”

[sweetwritertanya]

Dressed Up For Halloween (Namjoon)

Summary: Your employer, Big Hit, is hosting a special Halloween party this year. Even though no one knows you are dating, you go and show your boyfriend Namjoon your outfit before the party starts when he is still working at the studio.

Warnings: SMUT! This fic will include: swearing, erotic body touching, blow job, unprotected sex (be smarter IRL people!), missionary position, sex as in a quickie, female masturbation during sex (is this the best way to describe it?), aftercare.

Word Count: 2640

Your excitement could barely be contained as you practically skipped down the street and entered the Big Hit’s building. Your long warm coat kept your selected costume for the party tonight hidden and you had been dying to show it to your boyfriend. Keeping it a secret was almost unbearable, since you two always shared everything with one another.

For the first time ever, the company had decided to host a Halloween themed party for their employees and idols. Everyone was invited and required to come in costume, dinner and drinks on the house. Even a simple dispensable worker as yourself was invited which worked out, since the only person you were interested in spending the day with would also be there.

Namjoon and the rest of the boys would, obviously, be main guests. And even if nobody besides them knew about you and him being together, it presented the perfect cover for you two to attend the same party without having to hide his identity. You would just have to be careful not to get too lovey-dovey in public. Which was a bit hard, since you adored to hold his hand or lean your head on his shoulder whenever you stood beside him. You just had to control yourself tonight.

You knock on the door and his voice tells you to come in. Namjoon had told you he would be working on the studio for as long as he could, inspiration for some lyrics hitting him strongly today of all days. But he still promised to come to the party, so you were here to pick him up and make sure he lived to that promise.

He was sitting on his chair with his back to you as you walk in, closing the door behind you. He seemed busy writing something in his little notebook as well as having some kind of melody going on the computer. As you expected, he wasn’t even dressed yet, in fact wearing a white Fila hoodie and some light-wash denim jeans.

“Baby, you told me you would be dressed up for Halloween” you complaint as you approach him, placing one hand on his shoulder.

“Hum? Oh, yeah, sorry babydoll, I was about to go and change.” Namjoon swirls in his chair as his strong arms come around your wide hips, brushing the skin there with soothing hands. He smiles sheepishly with lips pressed together and dimples showing. “Got distracted. Wait, is that a wig?”

You smile back, because who wouldn’t when he produced that beautiful dimple smile, and lean down to steal an affectionate peck from his lips.

“Yes, it is. Part of my costume. Now, we don’t have much time, so hurry up and save everything you got going on so you can go and change already” you order playfully, stepping away to leave him to his computer. “Oh, and I want you to see my full costume before we go! Any speculations from the long black-haired wig?” You question as you undo your coat and let it slide down your arms to the sofa behind you.

“You know I’m not great guessing things. It’s best of you just tel-”

As Namjoon finishes saving everything up and swirls around in his chair to look at you, his words get stuck in his throat as he loses the ability to breathe for a few long minutes.

Even a skilled song writer like him could not come up with an accurate way to describe how absolutely enthralling you looked. It made his heart jump to his throat and his mouth to go dry as he took it all in, the black tight fabric hugging all of your splendid corves so seductively, the deep v-neckline showing just enough cleavage before the crisscross strings, the slit up to the middle of your succulent upper thigh revealing the shape of your leg, accentuated by the black high-heel shoe. In an outfit made entirely of black, your red lip stood out so captivatingly, and he could only really think of how much he wanted to steal the bright colour with his own mouth, kiss it until it was smudged away.

“What do you think?” you excitedly ask, even giving him a twirl.

Namjoon swallows dry and crosses his legs as he hides half of his face with his large hand, coughing to clear his voice.

“It’s hum… hum, it’s…” he truly couldn’t find the right words, which you mistake with dislike.

“You don’t like it” you sigh with disappointment and confusion. You really thought he would like it, you looked so good in it. He always tried to persuade you to use more tight-fitting clothes since he loves your silhouette so much.

“No! No, it’s not that at all!” he immediately assures, maybe a bit louder than he hoped. “I actually know this one. You’re… You’re Morticia from the Addam’s Family, right?”

“Yeah… So, why the underwhelming reaction? I thought you would love it” you confess, crossing your arms.

“And I unquestionably do. You look so fucking sexy right now. And I can assure you, there is nothing underwhelming about this. If anything, I may be a little too overwhelmed right now.” He coughs again and looks away almost like he was embarrassed, a bit of color rising to his cheeks.

“Sure doesn’t look like it” you pout, unconvinced.

He sighs and keeps his eyes away from you before looking at the ground, seemingly debating with himself for a moment.

“Did… Did you know?” he suddenly asks, only glancing at you for mere seconds before looking back to the floor.

“Know what?”

“That I had a… a thing, let’s call it… for this character when I first saw the movie as a child?”

“You had a ‘thing’ for Morticia when you were a kid? How so?” Intrigued and tickled by such a notion, you actually walk forward and move as if to sit sideways on Namjoon’s lap.

“Wait, babe-!”

Namjoon strangely raises his hands up and tries to stop you, something he had never done before when you sat on his lap, but the memento was already set. You sat your juicy rump on his thighs and that’s when you feel it, poking at the doughy flesh of your left ass cheek.

“Oh my God!” you giggle and bring your hands to cover your smiling lips as your eyes open wide in realization. As for Namjoon, his cheeks are now burning red and he tries to look as further away to the right as he can, hands restless as he wasn’t sure what to do with them.

“She always talked all seductively and all that, okay? And that film is full of sexual tension between her and that husband of yours, so it was not my fault” he murmurs in his defense. “Seeing you like this kind of… brought back old feelings, okay?”

Both amused and sympathetic at his situation, you remain sited on his lap as you take his warm face into your hands and force him to look at you.

“Well… How about I help you with this before we leave for the party, baby?” you suggest with a immodest smirk.

Namjoon raises his eyebrows and widens his small eyes until they became rounded, unsure if he was understanding what you were hinting at. You brush your thumb on top of his wide lips and then capture them for a doubt ending kiss, filled with passion and need. Your mouths melded together as your body melted into his, strong arms coming around your middle and pulling you close by your back.

It doesn’t take long for tongues to tease and play with each other, the smallest of encounters sending sparks down your back that landed in a molten pit of want at the depth of your belly. With each longing movement of your soft lips on top of his, you could feel his problem growing beneath your ass, reminding you of what you had decided to do.

Slowly, almost seamlessly, you move your lips to his chin, then his strong jaw, then down his long delectable neck, stopping just a moment longer by that spot next to his pulse point that you knew drove him crazy. The way he groans almost in a whimper rewards you for taking the time to do so. And then you move away from his lap to instead fall on your knees between his legs, hands set at his muscular thighs and looking up at him with suggestive eyes.

His lips, red from all the kisses and the blood rushing to his cheeks, fall into the cutest ‘o’ shape and he gulps dryly before talking.

“Babydoll, you don’t have to-”

“I know, Jonnie. I want to” you clarify, hands already sneaking their way to his belt.

His head falls back on his chair once your little fingers brush the bulge that had formed in his pants and he knows he couldn’t really do anything, he was at your mercy.

“Now, we don’t have much time before the party starts so, we have to be quick, okay?” you remind him as you pull his pants down. All you get his a struggled grunt and his hands closing into fists. “And don’t pull my hair, remember I’m wearing a wig.”

The erection finally springs free as you lower his boxers and a jolt of lust runs through you at the pretty vision. Standing tall in all its dark pink glory, with a red mushroom head glistening and a particular protruding pulsating vein, his cock always looked so perfect to you. And as much as you wanted to shower him with the attention he deserved, you were on a time crunch.

Therefore, you take one hand to his base and pump the hardening member to complete stiffness, absent-minded gibberish falling from Namjoon’s lips as you do so. Then, taking a deep breath, you let your tongue lick the underside from the bottom to the top before engulfing him into your mouth the furthest you could go.

Namjoon’s body trembles and he gasps when you suddenly take him fully into your mouth, your cheeks hallow and bobbing your head at a nice pace with eyes closed as you concentrated. Your tongue swirls around his thickness and slides from side to side at the skin just bellow his tip, making you feel his cock throbbing against it. Remembering to breathe, you try and add a bit of suctioning to the blow-job, the salty cream flavor you recognized starting to gush from his head.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck, baby, stop! Come here.”

To your confusion, Namjoon grabs you by the underside of your arms and pulls you with him to your feet, breathing hard and flustered, eyes completely darkened with lust. You knew he was about to cum, you couldn’t understand why he stopped you. Until he kisses you hungrily and places you with your back to the cushioned sofa behind you, bringing your legs to hook on either side of his lean hips.

“Namjoon, we can’t, we don’t have time for this” you start to say when his lips instead suck at your neck.

“Like you said, we’ll make it quick. Please, Y/N, babydoll, I need you” he pleads with you, leaning his head back to look at you with desperation. And, fuck, it was hot to be needed like this.

“Fine, hurry up” you concede, biting your bottom lips and throwing your arms around his shoulders, gathering the short hairs at the nape of his neck in your clasp.

Much to his satisfaction, you weren’t wearing any pantyhose, meaning your legs were bare as his fingers traced the skin up under the dress and the only barrier, he had to worry about were your panties. Finding the silky fabric and pulling the center of it aside, Namjoon dips his fingers in between the puffy lips and finds you warm and wet for him. He grunts.

“You’re already so wet for me, baby” he whispers into your ear.

As if to make sure, he slips his fingers into your puckered hole without warning, making you gasp and claw your hands on his shoulder and neck. Both of the fingers he used move with slick perfection only for a few seconds before he extracts them.

The feeling of emptiness left behind only lasts a moment, for soon Namjoon takes himself in hand and plunges back in, that magnificent shaft of his filling you up to the curve of your cervix and stretching your walls heavenly. Heat is rising off of him and he takes little time to start moving, yanking his hips at a fast speed as he chases his release.

His large hands hold you by your waist as he drills himself into your womb, the slapping sound of skin and squelching of your body’s fluids as he pumps in and out joining the sounds of both your and his heaving breathing and erotic moans, pitched with wanton and lust. His cock drags wonderfully against your inner walls and his pelvis smacks repeatedly against yours, so quick and deep that sends ripples across your malleable flesh. The molten pit deep inside your core starts to boil up, this uncontrollable wave of aching relief about to break through the dam.

The slickness of your pussy increases and Namjoon finds himself thrusting faster and faster, slamming his hips into yours at an abnormal increasing speed, hands anchoring himself on your waist so strongly it would leave marks. His whole body screamed tension and his throbbing cock burned inside, so you knew he was close. Even with a veiled brain power, you manage to recognize he was about to cum and you wanted nothing more than to do so with him. So, you bring one hand down your body and wail with a broken voice as you violently rubbed your clit at the same speed he was thrusting.

It happened at the same time, your pussy fluttering and collapsing around his cock as the most sudden wave of unmitigated pleasure crashed through your veins, and his frenzied moves coming to a halt as his cock twitched as released flowed through him like water. Your muscles trembled in relief, back arched away from the sofa’s cushions, before falling to the most relaxed state, while he spilled himself in you with a shuddering body before stilling and catching his breath again.

You both stay like this for a moment, Namjoon leaning down to kiss your smudged red lips amorously. He then spills out, hurrying to get on his feet and entering the adjacent small bathroom he had on the studio, coming back with a towel that he uses to clean up the mess he made.

You watch as he gently cleans your lower lips, tapping the soft towel until it’s all nice and mostly dry, and then rearranging the twisted panties until they sit comfortably on you. You sit back up on the couch when he is done and kiss his cheek, searching in your purse for your lipstick so you can reapply it properly.

“Go ahead and change, Jonnie. I should be going ahead anyway, the party is about to start” you say as you use the mirror in the bathroom.

“If you told me you would be Morticia, I could have dressed up as Gomez today” he tells you, with a voice still a bit rough from sex, which you loved.

“We can’t be in a couple’s costume, babe. No one knows we’re together, remember?” you swing your arms around his middle and look up at him with a resigning pout.

“Yet” he adds, quite firmly. “Maybe next year?”

You beam, pull him down for a peck and start to walk away towards the studio’s door, unable to keep yourself from smiling.

“Maybe next year” you agree before walking out.

[ciggylungz]

Rivals. c2

Rivals: chapter 2

3.2k words

Summary: Y/n and Harry are both CEO’s of their parent’s companies since they inherited the businesses from them, they’ve been rivals since they were kids- now that they’re professional adults how will their rivalry affect them?

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When Friday rolled around Y/n was excited, she’d had a grueling week and been working 18 hours a day for the past 6 days so she was more than thrilled to have a break. Friday’s were usually pretty tame in the office, but just her luck that day a new product design was dumped on her desk and she was tasked with going through the mountains of papers filled with advertisement ideas, promotion pictures and commercial ideas for the new line of clothes and perfumes coming out for the winter season since they were a few weeks away from December. Due to the time crunch she couldn’t really afford to push it off, so she sat at her desk and reviewed everything well past her normal hours.

It was around 7 in the evening when she pulled out the bottle of tequila she kept in her desk for late nights like this, grabbing some ice from the office kitchen and a tonic water from her own mini fridge stashed in the closet in her office. She kept the lighting low, her eyes already feeling the strain of the fluorescent bulbs and fine print papers after hours of reading and she’d like to save the headache for the next morning if possible.

She was a tad bit startled when a knock sounded at her office door, she glanced to the clock seeing it was nearing 10 at night and she knew her assistant left at 8 so she was a surprised by the interruption. Of course, he had to be the one knocking. Even through her mild intoxication she could tell that curly mop of hair as him, his face joining his locks a second later as he waltzes into her office. His lips were tugged in a small smile, hands holding a binder with a plastic bag cradled in his left one.

“Ah! Getting a bit wild in the office tonight? Tequila, you naughty girl!” he gave her a fake disapproving look companied with a stern finger pointing between her and the now half empty bottle. Y/n was always a bit looser after a drink, so she didn’t have her usual bitter comeback loaded she instead felt a strange shot of happiness? Relief? Fondness? She couldn’t put her finger on it. It was too foreign of a feeling to be associated with the man. The woman didn’t understand why she didn’t feel the sense of loathing tugging at her when he spoke, instead she let out a small laugh before flipping him off.

Harry was surprised yet pleased at her reaction. He always loved tipsy y/n, the booze seemed to soften her overly serious nature and make her a bit sweeter. They had some of their best moments together after they had a good buzz going, they’d even had a few instances of cuddling during their alcohol induced haze. He remembers those times fondly; he thinks back on them at times when they’re arguing or in the middle of a grudge holding session. Harry knew she’d never admit it, but deep down behind all her walls she really was a loving, sweet girl. She always had been yet her pride and fear of vulnerability would never let her admit it.

“Hello Harry, any reason you’ve broken into my place of work?” she tipped the glass back to her lips, taking another sip of her cocktail as she waited for his response. She watched him set his things down, shrugging his suit jacket off before rolling his sleeves to his elbows. “Saw you through the window, was workin’ late myself. Thought misery needed a bit of company, and knowing you I knew you’d probably need a designated driver for the night miss tequila.” He lifted his eyebrows in a slight teasing manner, a smile growing on her lips as she giggled quietly, raising her hands in surrender. “bad habits die hard, huh?” she retorted, the smile didn’t drop from her features and Harry loved it. She always had such a beautiful smile. Her plushy lips molded into the shape, her braces did their job giving her a perfect even smile. She had a genuine smile on, he could tell by the way it met her eyes that seemed to brighten when she was in a good mood. She was beautiful. He truly didn’t understand why she had always been so self-conscious. he hated when she’d talk negatively about her looks, weight, body etc. He’d always found her to be a very beautiful woman, and her strong personality amplified that even further.

“That they do miss Y/l/n, they do indeed.” He agreed with a nod, reaching his hand into the previously noted bag pulling out some bread, followed by small slices of cheese and finally a container of grapes. They both shared a love for the particular grouping of food, often having it for snack as kids or packing it when they went on little trips with their friends. It was their thing in a sense. He might amp it up a bit to feel a special bond with her in some way, even if it’s just over a love of the same foods.

“Brought some goodies, might share with you if you’re nice to m’.” Harry made himself comfortable on the couch, toeing off his shoes to leave him in his red dress socks. He liked to have accent colors when he dressed for work, often opting for pocket squares, socks or collar pins to tie together his outfits. He had decided early on just because he was in a work environment didn’t mean he had to dress boring, he worked in fashion for Christ sake so he enjoyed a bit of complimentary accessories. Tastefulness is key though, and he knew how to pick them right.

Y/n polished off her drink, reaching to pour herself another mixing it with a coffee straw she snagged from the kitchen during her original venture out. the woman shrugged slightly, taking a sip with a little smack of her lips at the strongness. She went a bit heavy on the tequila this time around.

“Eh, I’m on a diet anyway.” Her response amused Harry, chuckling lightly before popping a grape into his mouth. He always appreciated someone with a quick wit, and Y/n checked that box for him. He was starting to realize she checked most of his boxes regarding things he found attractive…and he wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

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It was nearing midnight when Y/n started to show signs she was fully drunk. Her head bobbed slightly, body lightly swaying and Harry saw her eyes flutter every so often. He could read her like a book, he knew she was stressed, tired and wasted just from a single glance. The man found it quite cute, she looked so soft and cute when she was in this state. She radiated that type of energy that made you want to hug her; she wasn’t as guarded and flighty. She looked utterly trashed but relaxed and he didn’t mind the drunkenness if it meant she wasn’t as worked up as usual. She worked hard; the woman deserved to let loose once in a while.

“Hey, think it’s time to head out hmm?” Harry slowly sat up as he spoke, stretching with a few quiet pops of his joints. Y/n lifted her head slightly, giving him doe eyes and a pouty lip. “but I have work to do…” a hiccup sounded after she spoke, making her body jolt slightly. “It’ll be there on Monday, it’s late and you’re wasted love. C’mon time to go, hey don’t get all misty eyed on me it’s okay. Swear it’s alright, everything will get done.”

Harry frowned mid-way through his sentence seeing her eyes gloss with tears. She could be quite an emotional drunk, she bottled up her feelings 24/7 so in any sort of weakened state she began to crack. Harry had seen it only twice in the thirteen years of knowing her. The first time they were 15, she’d just broken up with her boyfriend at the time who was a total douche and he’d spent the six months the pair were together practically bullying the girl and mainly spending the time they had together fucking her. she had gotten absurdly drunk and walked to Harry’s home, sobbing and shaking only to spend the rest of the night cuddled into his chest. it was a toxic relationship and Harry always hated that guy; he gave the boy a few swift kicks to the ribs a few days after the incident. The second was during spring break, the pair were freshly 20 and someone had groped her at the club. Y/n had a panic attack on the bathroom floor and Harry sat with her the whole time, even though the filthy floor was sticky with booze and god knows what else he didn’t even think of leaving her behind.

Y/n took in a deep breath nodding her head slightly, letting Harry put the bottle back in it’s hiding spot and organize her papers before getting himself situated and heading to the car. With some episodes of tripping over her own feet and dizziness he’d managed to get her into the passenger seat, buckling her and joining her in the vehicle.

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 “Y/n no, you can’t smash the window! Where are your house keys? Put the rock down”

Bargaining with someone who’s intoxicated was never easy, but he was worried about the woman chucking a random stone through her first-floor window instead of just unlocking the door. Drunk minds aren’t the soundest he supposed seeing as he was prying a rouge rock from y/ns hand.

Eventually the keys were located and used to forge entry into her modest town house. Unlike her parent’s y/n wasn’t into flashy mansions and cars. She didn’t see a purpose for such a large home when she was the only resident, plus it creeped her out knowing there would be more room for potential squatters if she had opted for an 8-bedroom 6-bath mansion like her parents had for the 3 of them. She was never someone who fancied showing off expensive thing, she found it tacky and risky because you’re flashing to people that you have expensive things to steal. So, when she purchased a home, she opted for a modest 2-bedroom town house and she really did love it.

Harry was greeted with a subtle scent of cedar and nutmeg, reminding him y/n always opted for fall themed candles and home fragrances. She felt it made places feel cozier and warmer. contrary to her guarded and sometimes cold personality, she always wanted her home to feel welcoming.

Her décor was nice, a large leather couch with some dark red throw pillows along with a fuzzy blanket folded and draped over the back of the furniture. Some arm chairs also filled the Livingroom, art hung evenly on the wall and a tv mounted right in the center of the adjacent wall. A nice area rug and coffee table really finished off the center room, it was an inviting set up and Harry had to resist the urge to sit on the large couch that seemed to be calling to him as he started walking her up the steps.

The bedframe groaned as she flopped herself down on her mattress, a content sigh leaving her lips as the woman kicked off her shoes. “mmmm love my bed, missed it.” The woman placed an affectionate pet to her pillow, Harry laughing slightly at her antics whilst searching her dresser for clothes to change her into. Pinching a pair of sleep shorts and a tshirt before tossing it on the bed making his way into her bathroom so she could change in private.

Once the girl was situated, he reappeared, picking up her dirty clothes and putting them in her hamper for her. everything was going well, they weren’t fighting and she seemed to really be enjoying his presence but because Harrys an idiot he had to ruin it.

“maybe if you weren’t such a raging bitch, I wouldn’t have to come take you home and you’d have a boyfriend who could huh?”

He intended it to be their playful teasing, how they usually pick on each other and make rude comments but it came across harsher than intended. He sounded utterly mean and spiteful, and after Y/n had spent the evening warming up to him and even enjoying his company that felt like a smack in the face. Just when she thought maybe he’d changed or wasn’t so bad he had to make a comment, picking a topic she was already very sensitive about because all her previous relationships were very abusive and put her in the position she was in now of being so guarded and cold she was left to a life of loneliness.

There was a beat of silence, Harry registering his tone and how he’d just switched the atmosphere entirely. There was no sense of playfulness anymore, just hurt and anger. He regretted ever opening his mouth, seeing the woman look away from him with veins visible on her neck from the restraint she was using to hold back her tears. She cursed herself for drinking, it always made her more sensitive and she felt like a fool for not seeing Harry was just waiting for her to become vulnerable so he could strike back even when truly it wasn’t his intention, his actions left her with only that theory to believe.

Y/n cleared her throat and shot him the best glare she could while her eyes burned with tears begging to escape. “You can see yourself out Harry.” The dismissal was curt and quiet, there was no option for bargaining or pleading because she didn’t want to hear anything else he had to say. Harry knew when to pick his battles with her so he knew it was best he left, sighing slightly before leaving the bedroom making sure he locks her front door for her on his way out. he’s never wanted to beat his own ass so bad in his life.

__

 As much as Y/n tried to hide it under her cold, blunt exterior- she was extremely insecure and broken inside. She never learned how to express her emotions or hurt. Y/n never had parents there to guide her nor comfort her in her times of need. She’d never had anyone who cared about her to look out for her besides neglectful nannies who left her to her own devices most of her childhood. She was emotionally stunted, and it had made her vulnerable to shitty people her whole life. It led to her having a 17-year-old boyfriend when she was 13 that pressured her into losing her virginity and emotionally abused her the entirety of their year long illegal relationship. It put her in the position of having a revolving door of toxic abusive relationships with cruel boys who treated her poorly, her father was never around so she never had an example of a good man so she resorted to getting attention and validation in whatever form she could even when it was harmful and a façade to use her body and status. The woman was never taught how to handle her emotions and it led to her clawing for control in any way she could, any sort of distraction and turned her to dark, destructive behaviors in her teen years that still haunt her in the form of physical and mental scars now that she’s in her adult years. She’d practically had to raise herself, and now that she’s grown, she’s running the company that stole her parents from her. she can’t tell who she hates more, her parents or herself.

Harrys word seemed to pop the stitches on an internal wound she thought was close to healing. While he was joking, she couldn’t tell. It was said with such a bitter malice it made her skin crawl. Sure, they’ve been mean to each other for 13 years but in her vulnerable state and the knowledge he had of her past his words seemed deliberate and cruel for the sole purpose of hurting her. not a stupid joke like he’d intended.

She couldn’t get it out of her head, she spent the remainder of the weekend nursing her hangover and a wounded soul. Her mind was screaming self-hating words, cruel statements towards herself and pushing her to look for comfort in another person again even when she knew she was vulnerable to falling back into the arms of yet another man who wasn’t good for her but she couldn’t bring herself to care enough about herself to make the best choices for her. she felt like she had something to prove to Harry, herself and the universe that she wasn’t so horrible that no one could stand to be around her even if the person she chose only stuck around to leech off her. it was a stupid mindset, one that’s left her torn to shreds numerus times since her early teenage years but the spiral Harrys verbal bite sent her into had her internally turning back into 14-year-old y/n who just wanted to feel like she mattered. She was setting herself up for pain again, she knew it. But like she stated before, old habits die hard.

and y/n decided she must be a glutton for punishment when her fingers started typing in the familiar number of her ex.

[curly-bangtan]

Heatwave Drabble #8: contaminated

[Heatwave // Godless // Heatwave Drabbles] <- read first!

Pairing: Taehyung x reader

Summary: We’re always gonna be contaminated.

Genre: drabble, angst, fwb au, roommate au, f2l

Warnings: more feels!

Word count: 4.1k

A/N: Title named after the song Contaminated by BANKS. (Should give it a listen after reading!) Unedited!!!

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“So what you’re telling me is, you fucked your roommate slash best friend who thought you were seducing him in the middle of a heatwave, and now, 9 months into sleeping together, you’re in love with him. Not only sleeping with, but also doing domestic coupley things like cooking together and cuddling during Netflix, but you guys not once made it official, or even exclusive because you both have commitment issues. And you thought he loved you too, so you decided to test him by saying you’re going on a date with someone to see his reaction, only for that to backfire right in your face because he slept with someone out of anger.”

You blink. “Man, why d’you have to put it like that?”

“Put it like what? I just summarised everything you told me concisely.” He laughs and pulls you in closer. You can’t help but note how different he smells, not bad, but just not what you’re used to. “So in conclusion, you’re both idiots and now you’re heartbroken.”

“I- I’m not heartbroken, I wouldn’t go that far. I’m just… a bit bummed out.” You avoid his gaze, squirming in his arms because the heat under the covers is starting to get to you.

“Wow, one night with you and I already know how stubborn and headstrong you are. You literally teared up a minute ago when you were talking about him. This is your problem: even now, you’re not willing to admit your true feelings. How well has that worked for you so far?” He shakes his head in dismay, his investment in your predicament surprisingly genuine.

This is a weird as fuck situation you’ve gotten yourself in. Out of desperation for relief from your, okay fine, heartbreak, you went out last night and came home with a guy. Taehyung had also gone out, and judging by the fact that it’s now the morning after and he still has yet to return, you can guess the direction in which his night went. It stings, but now you’re a hypocrite. This guy who you don’t even know the name of, Club Guy, has turned out to be more than just a fuck though. He knew he was the rebound for someone else, and he was more than glad to help. But one thing led to another, and the next thing you know, after your third round, you are pouring your heart out to this guy - this random, incredibly attractive, amazing at giving head, guy from the club.

It would be awfully strange, except he is unusually good at comforting people. You’re might consider keeping this one as a friend.

“Dude, I know it’s not my forte. I’m not good at expressing my emotions, okay?” You revel in the softness of his fingertips as he feathers your back. The sun is peeking through your curtains; you’re counting down the minutes until Taehyung returns, but at least speaking to Club guy is taking your mind off the fact that he was with someone else last night. “Yes, I’m heartbroken. I… I fucking love him. I know it was my fault for trying to get a reaction from him, but I just wanted him to say it, you know? Say that he loves me out in the open and that he wants me to… I don’t know, be his girlfriend. Girlfriend? Is that the right word? It sounds so weird. I don’t fucking know.”

Club Guy rolls his eyes, sighing at your ineptitude to grasp the simple concept of love. “Yes, girlfriend. God, you’re so annoyingly cute.” He smiles a smile at you that others would surely swoon for, and though your mind is too preoccupied with the boxy grin of someone else, you appreciate the warmth in his eyes. “Look, was it the night before the last that this all went down?”

“Yes.” Too fresh, too soon for you to be sleeping with someone else, you know. But you needed it so badly, you just needed to take your mind off him.

“What about the morning after? Surely you’ve seen each other since. From how you described him, I feel like there’s no way he could bring someone home knowing that you’re in the room next door.”

The memory sears.

You distinctly remember hearing their awkward morning-after conversation out in the dining room. After a long debate of whether to go out and reveal yourself to them or not, you decided that, fuck it, you’d already cried yourself to sleep last night because of this stupid son of a bitch, there is no reason for you to inconvenience yourself just to save Taehyung an even more awkward encounter. And so you stormed out of your room, eyes probably still a bit puffy and red, pretended you can’t see them and proceeded to make yourself a smoothie.

Yes, a homemade smoothie. You made sure to turn the setting of the blender all the way up so it was as loud and noisy as possible. You’re petty like that.

Especially because she’s using your mug.

Taehyung’s look of surprise when he saw you come out of your room did not give you even a fraction of satisfaction. Just a sad pang in your heart.

“I- Oh. I didn’t know you were home.” There was shame in his voice, and you hated every twist of your heart that it elicited.

You ignored him, not even a second of eye contact, poured that mango and berry smoothie and padded back into your room.

You had cried into your smoothie because his hair was messy like it usually was in the morning, voice still a deep rasp and eyes not fully open yet. And you had wanted to hug him so badly.

“It was awkward. I was a cold bitch and ignored him when I interrupted their breakfast. But no, he didn’t know, he was shocked to see me home.” You mutter, burying your face into your pillow to try to forget yesterday morning.

You could have said something, at least shown how hurt you were so he would apologise. Because you know he would apologise. But of course, you had a prideful image to uphold. Classic classic.

“Then…” Club Guy runs his fingers through your hair, twirling at the ends. “Then I feel like it’s really not too late. I’ll be out of here soon, and when he comes back, just sit him down and speak to him calmly. Calmly being the key word here. Explain to him that you weren’t actually remotely interested in the guy you went on a date with, and just wanted to prompt him to make you his. Tell him that you made a mistake and you’re hurt by what he did, but you can look past it because you were both in the wrong. Or maybe just tell him that you love him and don’t want to be with anyone else. It’s your choice whether you tell him about you and me, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him is all I’m saying.”

You contemplate his words. It sounds easy as hell when he says it like that, but you know when the moment comes, you will freeze up, panic, and muck it up somehow. It’s just a ‘I’m sorry’ and three simple words. Yet it feels like the most difficult thing you’re going to do.

“But what if he doesn’t understand. What if he doesn’t even like me like that, I feel like I could be grossly misinterpreting things.” You’ve pondered about this possibility since two nights ago. Afterall, how could he just go out and sleep with someone like that right after your fight if you mean so much to him? But then again, look at you now - likewise in bed with someone, albeit mostly for therapeutic reasons.

Club Guy shakes his head looking at you, almost in pity at how you could possibly still not get it. Smirk playing at his lips that remind you so much of Taehyung’s smugness. Fuck, it hasn’t been two days and you already miss him so much that your bones ache.

“Look, your best friend is head over heels in love with you and you’re seriously blind for not being able to see this earlier. Didn’t you say he would stay up all night with you during exam season to make you coffee and massage your shoulders? There’s no question about it, the guy is more whipped than whipped cream.”

Club Guy sits up, the covers falling off his front to reveal his toned sparsely tattooed body. You watch him wordlessly get dressed, the storm that is your mind whirling you into pieces. He’s right. He’s so right, and you hate it. The solution is honestly so simple. You and Taehyung are like two dots on a blank page. Instead of a mere straight line to connect the dots, you drew spirals around each other, closer and closer but never touching.

Should you tell him about Club Guy? You feel like you should. Though he is right, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. But you don’t want any more games, anymore dishonesty. Straight line.

“Uh, thank you for talking this out with me, I appreciate it. I’ve had no one to talk to about this because none of my friends know about him and I, and it’s kind of too late for me to drop the bomb now.” The awkwardness begins to trickle in, on your part at least. Club Guy just smiles that smile at you, rather pleased with himself.

“I should have charged you for that.” He shimmies into his skin tight black jeans, eyes crescent in amusement.

“What, the sex or the therapy session?” You joke. It’s sad because he has such potential to be a great fuck buddy, and you 9 months ago would not have hesitated to make him your next booty call. But the truth is, even as you were kissing, fucking someone else, you were imagining Taehyung the whole time.

If love is a sickness, you’re plagued on your deathbed.

Club Guy laughs. “If it doesn’t work out, call me I guess. But I’m rooting for the two of you idiots. You better not fuck this up.” When he slides into his shoes, you realise how much you dread him leaving. Firstly, because finally speaking to someone about all your pent up emotions for Taehyung feels like a weight lifted off your chest. Secondly, because you really don’t want to be left alone right now. You don’t want to agonise over every second that Taehyung isn’t home yet.

Lethargically, you stretch over the covers and roll out of bed, your limbs feeling especially heavy with the looming pressure of what you have to say to Taehyung. “I’ll… walk you out.”

The next series of events happens in shutters.

Mid yawn, as you’re scuttling down the hallway after Club Guy to see him out, the front door swings open. Taehyung walks in in yesterday’s clothes, wearing a miserable expression to begin with. But when his eyes glance up and locks on your male company, his face…

Shatters.

You have never seen Taehyung’s temper explode before. You’ve witnessed his grumpy tantrums, his quiet sulking, but this - a detonation of pure rage, catalysed by shock - runs your blood ice cold.

‘What the fuck?’ His voice is deadly low, eyes flying between the two of you. And instantly, you’re filled with a reciprocating anger. He can’t possibly go off on you right now, he can’t have the fucking nerve. Not when you hadn’t said a word about him and that girl yesterday.

“Holy shit…” From the corner of your eye, Club Guy turns a ghastly sheet of white.

It doesn’t dawn on you until he spits his name out like poison. ‘Park Jimin, what the fuck?’

And sense exits your brain.

You can’t move a muscle if you wanted to, nor utter a sound. You feel like flotsam, swept away by a roaring wave. This can’t be happening. This can’t be real. Of all people, all people, you slept with Park Jimin. As in Taehyung’s ex-best friend who his girlfriend had cheated on him with, Park Jimin.

“Oh my fucking god. Kim Taehyung…” To his credit, Jimin can at least speak, unlike you. Gone was the lovely, charming guy talking you through your crisis. He brushes his hair back in disbelief. “I- What the fuck… I swear I didn’t know she’s your girl.” You try not to let the words ‘your girl’ sink in too much. Because you were his, even if you weren’t.

“I swear to fucking god. I give you 10 seconds to leave my house before I kill you.” Not only can you not believe your poor luck of managing to bring home Jimin of all people from a random bar, you also cannot believe the fury seething from Taehyung, someone who you no longer recognise.

Jimin does not need to be told twice; he spares you one last glance before dashing out.

After the door slams, there’s just silence. Your eyes fixed on Taehyung’s, mind trying to comprehend how royally you’ve fucked up once again. You’re desperately trying to convince yourself that it isn’t your fault, you didn’t know. But the hurt trickling through Taehyung’s angry facade inoculates you with enough guilt to make you nauseous.

“Seriously?” Taehyung is trembling, from rage or heartache you don’t know. “You fucked Jimin?”

“I… I had no idea, I swear, Taehyung.” You want to move towards him but your feet stay planted on the ground. Your own throat is trembling, definitely out of heartache. You can’t imagine the pain tearing through him right now.

Another moment of an agonising silence. Every second you’re just standing there flabbergasted is a fresh stab to your chest. How did you two get to this place?

“So you fucked him? Yes or no?” When his voice cracks, it takes everything in you to keep the tears from springing.

You swallow. “Yes.”

Taehyung shuts his eyes, and it feels like he’s shutting the chapter of his life that is you. The end is looming, you can feel it. You don’t see how you two could possibly recover from this. How could he forgive you?

“Did it not cross your mind that that Jimin you were fucking could be the Jimin who stole my ex-girlfriend? Like the Jimin that led me to move in with you in the first place? Did I seriously not cross your mind even once?” His words are a slap after slap, no, even more physical than a slap.

Did he not cross your mind, he has the audacity to ask. He was the only thing on your mind, that idiot.

“I didn’t know his name, Taehyung.” You try to suppress the surge of injustice you feel. Of course you thought about him. How could he even ask something like that, as if you’ve done this out of malice.

“Oh, right.” He scoffs, shoulders dropping. “I forgot, you fuck guys without learning their names.”

And just like that, the line between sadness and anger is breached.

“Excuse me? What did you just say to me?”

“Do you want me to repeat it?”

Somehow, anger hurts more than the guilt you had felt. It manifests as something grotesque festering away in your chest, all the bitterness, the tears, the heartbreak, all condensed into this ugly emotion.

“Taehyung, you went and fucked someone first while I was in the room next door.” His tightly drawn brows soften a little. “I heard everything, every creak of the bed, every moan, every fucking thing. You have no idea how much that killed me, not a single fucking idea.” You feel your face crumpling, eyes stinging, and you hate falling apart like this in front of him, but there’s nothing holding your broken pieces together anymore. “I didn’t say a single word about it, shit, I even let that bitch use my mug while I was dying inside. And now you have the nerve to pin this on me and make me feel like a worthless piece of shit.”

You watch it dawn on him, the distraught state of your mind. And you want it to feel like a competition, like ha, you hurt me way more. But it isn’t. There is no winner. There’s just you two, gradually losing each other.

“I was drunk…” He croaks. “And I didn’t know you were home, I thought you went home with Junho.”

“You really think that little of me. Then you don’t know me at all if you think I would’ve done that. But look at yourself, you didn’t text me once that night, just went straight out to the club and fucked some girl. And what about last night? You didn’t come home either.” You hiss, pitch raising.

“I didn’t sleep with her last night. I couldn’t even kiss her for more than a minute on her bed because it felt so wrong it made me fucking sick. I stayed on her couch and thought about you all fucking night. Happy?”

The truth rams into you no lighter than a train. You curse yourself. You curse him. This spectacular mess is unravelling so devastatingly that you want to scream. You can’t stomach the thought that you were fucking Jimin while he was thinking about you. Your situations mirrored one night after the next.

“And you say you were dying inside, but what about me? Hmm?” He flings his arms in exasperation. “Well what about me? How do you think I felt when I found out you were going on a date with some guy I’ve never heard you mention? How do you think I felt when you left me here all alone after that fight to wonder what the hell you were going to do with him that night? What else could I have done except get so drunk that I didn’t even remember my own name?” Seeing pain splatter across his beautiful features perhaps ruins you more than anything else. But your own pain is ringing.

“You didn’t even text me once! All you needed to do was tell me not to go, and I would have fucking stayed!” You cry, your throat dry and clogged.

“Did you want me to get on my fucking knees and beg? I didn’t have a right to tell you not to go. If you wanted to go, who am I to stop you?” He yells, a sheen now coating over his eyes, much like your own.

“GOD, I didn’t want to go, Taehyung! I don’t like him at all! Junho was nice but my mind wasn’t on him for even one second. I was coming back home to tell you I love you because I can’t stomach being with anyone else. But guess what? You were out pulling someone else because I clearly meant so little to you. Then I had to stay up all night listening to your fucking sex noises. I’m not the one who fucked up first here.”

Taehyung takes a breath to retort, but stops. Nothing but woundedness in his eyes. It’s clear that your words are embedding into him. The I was coming back home to tell you I love you. His expression falls, rapid breathing slows.

You’re looking at each other like you don’t recognise the other. Because it has never been like this between you two before. He has never felt more foreign, distant.

And when a wave of silence to calm you both has passed, he says quietly, “Why did you have to do that to me in the first place? I… I thought it was clear how I felt…”

The thundering tempest of your temper eases completely at the brokenness in his eyes. Acrid taste of regret in your mouth at the words that you hadn’t meant. Taehyung wasn’t the one who fucked up first, you shouldn’t have pulled that whole date thing. If you had just trusted him, and given him time, you would not be here right now.

But look at you two, fighting once again. Calmly, Jimin had said. And even that, you weren’t capable of. This is a childish game, the tossing of blame, and you’re drained. You don’t want to fight anymore. You don’t want to hurt. But you don’t know how to end this without ending everything.

“You really, really hurt me, Taehyung. But I was still willing to let it go. I was waiting for you to come back to tell you that… To tell you how I feel.” Your voice is soft now, diminished to just more than a whisper. You feel so extremely vulnerable, your frame creases inwards.

“You slept with Jimin…” Taehyung breathes, fists slowly unclenching. “Y/N, not just anyone, Jimin. I know I’d be a hypocrite if it were anyone else, but it’s him.”

“I didn’t know it was Jimin.”

“I didn’t know you were home after the date.”

For a good long second, you just stare at each other, chests heaving, throats raw, and you wonder if you are going to kiss and make up right this instant. Because for a moment, it feels like you could. It feels like you could forsake the past and just start anew.

But the window for that opportunity passes by as neither one of you takes a step forward.

You’re going in circles, you know.

“This isn’t going to work.”

Despite everything, this has been the hardest thing for you to say yet. And this time, you let the tears roll down. Your heart is screaming at you because it is on fire, but you persist through it because you know this has to stop and he doesn’t have the heart to say it so it has to be you.

And you just look long and hard at Taehyung, watch his eyes widen, shift, as he registers the finality of this outcome. It has been a wreckage. Only fragments of what once was a beautiful thing is left. You can’t keep hurting each other like this, and he finally knows it.

“What do you mean?” He asks, as if your heart hasn’t broken enough.

You want to fall onto your knees and sob.

“I mean, this needs to end. We’re doing and saying things we don’t mean and causing each other so much pain. If it was meant to work, it would have worked. I don’t want to keep doing this, Taehyung. Let’s stop this before we hurt more.”

Falling. Tears keep falling.

You’re breathing, yet choking on air.

Taehyung’s cheeks are stained, eyes rimmed with red. You have to clamp down on your lips to prevent yourself from crying out loud. When he closes his eyes, streams flow out, and you don’t think you’ve ever experienced greater pain. You want to hold him so badly, so badly. You want to tell him that you’re sorry for everything, and that you’ll always forgive him no matter what he’s done. But you can’t. Because you know things can never return to the way they were. Neither of you will be able to forget what the other’s done, it will live in the back of your minds, eating away at your insecurities.

Your love is tainted. Contaminated. And always will be now.

And even still, the selfish part of you wants him to say something, protest, fight for you. But you know he won’t. Because you know he knows it won’t be the same.

“So this is it? It’s over?” Cracks in his voice, cracks in your hearts.

It’s over.

But you can’t say it, so you just nod. All of this, just gone within days. Was your love so fragile to begin with? You were such a fool to believe that it would be enough.

“You can stay here, I’ll go.” You finally tear your eyes away from him, vision but a white glassy blur. You would rather him stay, it’s the least amount of respect you could offer to show how much he means to you.

And as you’re about to turn away, “You know that I love you, right?”

He says it, the first and last time you’ll hear those three words containing the meaning you’ve been seeking.

The tears don’t feel like they can stop.

“I know. I love you, Taehyung.”

And that has been your problem. You love each other too much but trust yourselves not enough.

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A/N: Sorry SORRY!! Don’t hate me… ;----; one part left </3

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22/02/19

© Copyright 2020

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@taexxxiiaa @shookpreme @taetaeobsessed @tangledsparkles @nonexistentfucks @evilkookie @nbiased95 @taehyungmakesmeoof @itscalledgayhoney @tahaing @deliciouslydisturbed365 @expensive-bangtan-girl @jwlmnbt @herakimkim @dnyad @kaepjjang365 @gingerpeachtae @spring2787 @askingtheimportantthingshere @casualminiaturetimemachine @vasysauce @deadinsidebitch2412 @emiyooa @i-dont-even-know-fck @chimycthulhu @gixanjos @hisunshiine @xtaeyi @softjellyjimin @bluemooncnblue @malfeitofeitto @bangtanfancamp @keopitae @out-of-jams@camilaxpolanco @d-noona @haechanspudu @dawnispeace @vante-visuals@liquanzhe222 @bangtanloverrrrr @inner-monologue @bs14401 @seokjoontae @trviahope @comingjimin @jeonsshadow

[staticscreenwriting]

California Summer - B.H. Smut [two]

Synopsis: Kings Cove California is Billy Hargrove’s hometown. It’s also a popular summer vacation destination for rich couples and their spoiled kids. (Y/N) is one of those rich girls. Proper, sweet, innocent. Only that all bores her to death and Billy is just the adventure she’s been looking for. It’s all fun and games. A summer fling. Not strings attached. Right?

Inspired by the song “Young & Dumb” by Cigarettes After Sex.

Part 1

A/N: There is smut in this, babes. Please if that is not for you, don’t read it. Also do not interact if you’re under 18, that’s just not cool. Kay, thanks ♥

[additional note: I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.]

The air is hot and sweltering on Tuesday. A blue sky filled with thick grey clouds. There’s a sizzling in the air. A promise of rain. A promise of a storm. 

Billy steps out of his car and onto the white gravel driveway of the (Y/L/N)’s holiday estate. It’s a grand house. These people are rich and they want you to know it. Nothing is subtle or modest. It wants to be seen, to be stared at, to be wanted. This house demands your attention. Thinking about it, Billy thinks it’s fitting that (Y/N) lives here. She too, demands people’s attention. Undivided. 

He steps up to the door, his black polo shirt proudly displaying the “ Franklin and Company cleaning and maintenance service” logo in his right chest. Mr Franklin said company uniforms are a good way to increase the team spirit. Billy suspects it’s just another way for those rich assholes to further distance themselves from peasants like him. 

The doorbell chimes up in some melodic little tune. Even the god damn doorbell is over the top. A deep disdain settles inside Billy’s bones, takes residence in his heart. He wonders if those people truly know what suffering means. He wonders if financial stability and a luxurious lifestyle can soften the blow of a heartache. Wonder if he’d still be this bitter, if his heart would still feel this heavy, if he was the one living in a house like this.

When the door swings open, Billy is greeted by Mr. (Y/L/N) and his smile that’s just too big. There’s a certain size a smile should have and his smile exceeds that size. It’s unsettling. With his bright white teeth and the moustache, he looks like some kind of cheesy 60s Batman villain. 

“ Hi, Billy. Good to see you. So here’s the thing — “ he then starts to proceed a dramatic monologue about the broken filter system of their pool. Billy only half listens, his mind wandering through the halls of this mansion. He wonders if she’s home. Wonders what her room looks like. Wonders if she can still feel his lips on hers. Taste him. Feel him inside her.

As they walk through the main living room, Billy’s eyes fall onto a picture on the mantlepiece of their elaborate fireplace. (Y/N) smiles brightly back at him from the photograph, draped in a long white dress and long opera gloves. It almost looks like a wedding gown only she looks way too young in this picture and there’s no husband to be seen. She smiles so big, so radiant but there’s something in her eyes. The same riddle he’s tried to figure out that day he picked her up in the rain. A kind of sadness that is both so familiar, and so foreign to him. 

“ Joan and I are gonna be out all day but if you need anything, my daughter (Y/N) should be around. She’s a nice girl, I’m sure she’ll be pleased to lend you a hand. “ 

Billy has to stop himself from choking on his own spit. If only this man knew what his girl gets up to when dad’s not looking.

“ Alright, that’s fine. “ 

“ Good. Good. Now if you’ll excuse me. “ 

“ Sure, yeah. Have a good day.” 

Mr. (Y/L/N) walks back towards the entrance hall, this house has a goddamn entrance hall. A second later his wife steps up next to him, big floppy hat on her head, fancy-looking silk scarf around her neck. That one probably cost more than Billy pays in rent every month. 

The way the interact makes him feel uneasy. There’s no affection there, no kindness. It all is very stoic and structured and empty. He wonders if rich people are all this hollow, if it comes with the territory. If maybe there are certain expectations put on you when you’re loaded and to fulfil those you have to lose part of yourself in the process. 

“ Bunny, we’re off “ (Y/N)’s father yells up the stairs to be met with her voice calling down a disgruntled “okay” a few seconds later. 

Bunny. They call her bunny. This day is getting better and better. With a smirk on his face, Billy grabs his tools and drags himself out towards the pool into the hot California sun. 

The filter is fixed in a matter of minutes, then he cleans the pool, mows the lawn, scraps dirt out of the rain gutter. All while the hot sun is beating down on him, burning his skin and making him sweat. What he wouldn’t give for a bit of rain or a dip in the ocean. 

Just as he’s packing up his tools, a loud banging sound from the inside catches Billy’s attention, followed by a string of curses. There’s no doubt in his mind it’s her. Her voice still fresh on his mind as she whispers dirty words into his ears while he dreams.

Rounding the corner, he catches sight of her, sitting on the bottom step of the stairs, rubbing her knee and contorting her face in a display of pain.

“ Are you okay? “ 

“ Yeah, just tried taking two steps at once and uh — didn’t go so well, “ (Y/N) replies as she gets up and dusts herself off.

Whenever Billy thinks of her, his mind always wanders back to that first night he caught sight of her. Her flowy skirt, the flower in her hair, the too big denim jacket. Something about her then looked almost ethereal. Like she didn’t belong with anyone around her. Like she didn’t belong to this place. To this earth. 

Looking at her now, Billy almost can’t believe it’s the same person. She’s wearing cut off jeans shorts, socks with that frilly lace stuff stick out from her beat-up tennis shoes and the I ♥ New York shirt that’s draped over her body is at least two sizes too big and has no doubt seen a few years pass already.

“ Look at you, Mr. Polo shirt! “ 

“ Stop! “ 

“ It’s cute! “ 

“ It’s company policy.” 

“ Aw no, does it limit your freedom for self-expression? “

“ Why are you taking the piss? I saw the picture on the fireplace. Cute wedding dress. Prom? “ 

(Y/N) does that thing that’s neither a scoff nor a laugh and yet both at once. She walks up to the fireplace and takes the frame in her hands. There it is again, the sadness in her eyes. Even though she’s smirking there’s a fundamental sadness so deeply engrained in her beautiful eyes that Billy almost regrets having mentioned the photo.

“ Not prom, goof. My cotillion” 

“ Your what now? “ 

“ My debutante ball. It’s a formal presentation of young women to introduce them into society. “ 

“ Sounds like a cattle auction to me. “ 

This time she fully scoffs, no laughter or smirk anywhere in sight. “ You might have a point.” 

“ So what they like, offered you or — “ 

It’s such a strange concept, Billy isn’t even able to wrap his head around it. A formal presentation of young women already sounds wrong. Just thinking about her being paraded around leaves a sour taste on his tongue.

“ Kinda yeah. I mean it’s nothing sexual or anything but uh — well. There’s a bunch of girls in matching dresses who all get introduced individually. They put a real emphasis on who your parents are so people are immediately aware your family is loaded. Then the dad’s guide the girls across the stage and hand them over to the escort. Usually, an equally rich male around the same age who’d be a wonderful addition to the family. Then there’s this specific curtsy every debutante has to perform …” 

“ Are you fucking with me right now? “ 

“ Absolutely not. It’s a real big deal. They have a serious committee and everything.” 

“ Well you look miserable in that picture. “ 

“ Oh I was. I didn’t wanna do it in the first place and then my dad also told me that I couldn’t have my boyfriend at the time be my escort because apparently he wasn't good enough or his family wasn't prestigious enough. I really liked that boy too. I was so sad. “ 

“ Why’d you do it then? “ 

“ Well all my friends did it and then dad also pulled the mom card so — “ 

As those words fall from her lips, her eye glass over a little, as if she just started dreaming or let her mind wander someplace else. Billy always felt like it was weird, the way he observes people, the way he notices things. But when you grow up in a house that’s so loud and so angry, you start to notice the quiet things. It’s a survival instinct. Noticing the little things can save your life.

“ The mom card?” 

“ Yeah. Said my mom always wanted to see me as a debutante. Said I should do it to honor her memory. Even had her own cotillion dress shipped in from my grandparents place to use the fabric for mine. “ 

Dead mother. There it is. One little puzzle piece to slide into place. A step in the right direction in figuring out the riddle that’s her mind. Dead mother. It’s not a pain he knows but one he can imagine. His own mother was the best person he knew, an angel in his eyes. He loved her more than he ever loved another person. Then she left and ripped his heart straight from his chest. Maybe he doesn’t know what it’s like losing your mother to death but he does know what it feels like having a mother one day and then not having one the next and feeling so terribly alone in the world.

“ So Joan’s not — “

“ She’s my mother too. Mom died when I was 6, dad and Joan married when I was 10. She’s been in my life not longer than my mother was. I love her so much but I also miss my actual mom. “ 

He doesn’t know what make the words fall from his mouth so easily, as if they don’t weight a million tons on his heart. But something tells him that he can be honest with her. Maybe it’s a certain comfort that two people can only find in shared pain. 

“ My mom fucked off when I was 9. Just up and left, to be with some guy she’d met at her job as a waitress. A fucking dentist of all people. Haven’t seen her since. “

“ Fuck, that sucks. “ 

“ Yeah it’s whatever.” Billy shrugs. It’s not whatever and they both know it but it’s one thing to tell her about his mother, it’s another to open up his entire chest and let her see all the cracks in his heart. That’s a vulnerability he’s not willing to show her. 

“ Well this is turning into a gloom-fest, huh. Do you wanna get outta here and do something? “

He really does. The heaviness on his heart feels suffocating. Like someone is squeezing his chest, breaking ribs in the process.

“ Sure. What’s your plan?” 

“ No plan. How about the beach? “

Billy smiles at her suggestion. “ Sounds good. “ 

“ Man, your car is clean. I didn’t even notice the first time. “ (Y/N) remarks as the drive along the sleepy town of Kings Cove. The windows are rolled down and a soft wind sweeps through them, making (Y/N) hair fly around her face. Her feet are kicked up on the dashboard and her red lips are pulled into a teasing smirk.

“ It’s my baby, I like it when she’s clean. “

“ She? “ 

“ Mmh.” 

“ Does she have a name? “

“ No. You wanna make a suggestion?” 

“ Hmmm how about — (Y/N) ?” 

“ That’s your name. “

“ It’s a good name !” 

“ Not naming my car after you.” Billy chuckles.

“ Okay. How about Lilly? “ 

Billy shrugs. Honestly, he has no interest in naming his car but if it makes her happy, he might as well entertain the thought. “Sure, fine with me.”

She’s quiet for a moment before she speaks up again. “ You wanna know what Lilly needs? “ 

“ No. “ 

“ Some decor. Some personality. Like some dice hanging from the mirror or — or a dashboard dancer. Like a hula girl. “ 

“ Absolutely not. “ 

(Y/N) gasps “ I know! A dancing Elvis. You know the ones! You need one of those. “ 

Billy has to wince at the thought of a cheap plastic figure vaguely resembling Elvis stuck to his front window so it can dance on the dashboard. 

“ Or I could not do that. I like my car the way it is. Thank you very much. “ 

(Y/N) just smiles and maybe that’s enough for right now. There are more secrets hidden in the corner of her lips, in the glint of her eyes, in the way the sun falls on her face. But those can stay there for right now. All that matter in that moment is the cheesy Don Henley song playing from the stereo and the red of her fingernails tapping along to the beat and the way life feels weightless then.

“ This is so beautiful. “ (Y/N)’s words are hardly louder than a whisper. Her voice is overtaken by a peaceful sense of awe and admiration. Her bare feet are buried into the still warm sand as the sky around them shines in hues of pinks and oranges. 

“ I can’t believe you get to see this every day of your life. You can just decide you want to watch the sunset over the ocean and do it. “ 

Billy shrugs as if it’s nothing when in reality he knows exactly how much this really means. Living in Hawkins, away from the ocean and his home and his heart, it made him realise how much he really loves this place. How his heart will forever be bound to the sea and the waves and the freedom it gives him. 

“ I guess it’s pretty cool. “ 

“ You guess? Billy this is — this is spectacular. Sitting here and just taking it all in makes me feel fearless and invincible and brave. Like the world is so big and vast and there’s so much still for me to discover and experience and I can actually do it. “ 

“ What’s stopping you ? You got all the money in the world. “ 

He wonders if she can hear the spark of resentment that his voice carries. Billy doesn’t put it there on purpose, it’s just something so deeply edged into his genetics it’s hard to get rid off. Life’s hard for everyone, he knows that. The logical part of his brain does. But being financially stable surely helps soften the blow.

“ Not if you ask my parents. They’re just waiting for me to find a suitable husband whos family is at least as rich as mine if not richer. Then settle down in a nice big house, pop out a few kids — be miserable forever. “ 

He doesn’t know what to say to that. There’s a certain familiarity in her words. Billy knows exactly what it feels like being stuck in a situation that makes you miserable and to feel like you will never get out of it. Even though both their situations couldn’t be more different, there’s a shared sense of captivity. 

“ I’m sorry, I’m being a huge whiny bitch about this. Poor rich girl with her rich girl problems. “

Though her words are meant to sound airy and light, they are all but that. There’s a heaviness to them. A sincerity. 

“ Don’t be stupid. This is your future. Your life. You get to bitch about it. If not about that then what about? “ 

Billy succeeds in making her crack a smile. A small success in the grand scheme of things, but a success nonetheless.

“ What would you wanna do? If your parents had no say in it ? “ 

Her sight settles on the setting sun, her chest heaves with big breaths. As if she’s trying to catch the moment in her lungs and keep it there forever.

 “ Last year I started studying photography in New York. My parents thought I was working an internship at a family friend’s firm. I wasn’t. When they found out they made me drop out and come back home. That’s why I wasn’t around last year. That’s what I wanna do. But my parents they are — my dad grew up during a time when art wasn’t a career that could really put food on the table. He’s a businessman, a hard worker. He sees numbers before anything else. And I don’t think he’s doing this to be mean or anything. It’s just what he knows. Dreams were not something he could chase and survive it. It was eat or dream. I think he wants to spare me that life. I just wish he would take the time to even as much as look at my pictures. They’re good. “ 

“ You should show me some. “ 

To be quite honest, it’s not about the pictures. Billy has never been a particularly artsy person nor does he care for photography. But this is important to her, this is where her heart is. No one has ever believe in him, he knows the empty feeling that comes with that realisation. If he can be the one person to show her that her dreams and her talent matter, then it’s worth it.

“ Yeah? “

“ Sure, why not? “ 

“ Alright, I will. Think I can mix in some naughty ones. “ 

Billy raises his eyebrow. “Oh really? “ 

“ Mmmh.” 

Her lips don’t taste like slurpee this time. They taste like summer heat and salt and warmth. A little like cigarette smoke and mint chewing gum.

Her fingers tangle in his locks, tugging deliciously as her tongue curls around his. It’s softer than the kisses in his kitchen, not fueled by lust but by a shared comfort in each other. 

“ What was that for? “ he asks as they pull away, far enough to talk to each other but close enough to breath in each other’s air. 

“ For listening. And for — caring.” 

Billy’s lips decent back on hers, then her cheek, her neck. Her skin feels soft and warm underneath him. He can feel her pulse quickening as he softly sucks at the delicate spot where her neck meets her shoulder.

“ You can’t leave hickeys!” 

“ Why not? “ he murmures against her.

“ Got this thing at the country club in a few days. My dress doesn’t have a turtleneck. Dad’s gonna kill me if he sees it. “

Of course her family frequents the country club the town over, it’s so fitting. Billy’s been there a few times, tending to their greenery and fixing stuff. It brings good money and he got to eat their for free which was nice. But looking at all the rich people in their fancy clothes drinking champagne by the pool was — strange. Johnny works there as a waiter part time and always has the most ridiculous but funny stories to tell.

“ Aw, daddy’s little girl not allowed to kiss boys? “ Billy mocks, not making any attempt at moving his lips away from her neck until she nudges him off and pushes him down onto the warm sand.

“ Oh I do more than just kiss them. “ (Y/N)’s voice is laced with lust and passion and sultriness.

Soft warm kisses wander down his neck, as her hands leave trails up and down his stomach underneath his shirt. In a swift motion she pushes the fabric up, to pepper gentle kisses on his chest, his stomach, down to the edge of his pants. 

Billy can feel the blood rushing through him, can feel the adrenaline flowing through his veins. A tingling sensation builds up. Is there anything better than a girl sucking you off with the sun setting over the ocean in the background? Not really, he’s fairly sure about that.

(Y/N) hands fumble with the zipper of his jeans before she pulls them down just enough for his dick to pop out. 

The way she looks up at him, eyes filled with a mixture of mischief and innocence. The way she bites her lip in anticipation — it kills him. This is his day of reckoning. This is the end and god does he love it.

Billy is fully aware of what's happening as she swirls her tongue around the head of his dick but his mind is swimming, his heart is pounding. Maybe it’s her or maybe it’s the moment, he doesn’t know. All he does know is that sometimes life can be real fucking sweet. Especially when your cock’s soft and warm in a pretty girl’s mouth.

She hollows her cheeks, goes fast then slow, moves her hand along her lips in a perfect rhythm of pure lust. It’s wet and warm and tight and perfect.

An alternating pattern of kitten licks and deep strokes drive him crazy. She swallows around him like the goddamn patron saint of sucking cock, takes him so deep he’s fairly sure they should grant her some award for it.

When he feels the tidal wave of passion crash onto him and pull him under, drown him in ecstasy, he buries his fingers into her hair, pulls her closer, moves his hip faster — fucks her mouth. And she moans, every once in a while looking up at him with those eyes — those damn beautiful eyes. And there’s a smirk playing on her lips, around his dick, every once in a while. She enjoys this too and that’s what sends him over the edge.

Billy cums just as the sun sets behind the horizon, that one moment when the world is pure gold. He doesn’t see that though, doesn’t realise. All he sees is her eyes and her smile and the way she wipes her lips and all the riddles he wants to solve that live in her heart and all the things he wants to explore with her.

“ You’re welcome.” she says and giggle as she crawls back up to lay beside him, propped up on her elbows, eyes set on the horizon.

“ Uh-huh. “ Billy’s mind is still hazy, words can hardly form least of all make sense.

“ I can’t believe you get this view every day. “ 

He’s not sure whether she’s talking to him or to herself, maybe a little of both. What he’s sure of though, is that his view is much nice right now. Her, free and wild and — beautiful, sitting and watching as the world turns pink and orange and gold for one last time before nightfall. 

It’s quiet for a moment as they catch their breath, as she takes it all in and Billy tries to shake off the fogginess in his brain. It’s quiet and peaceful and safe and comfortable. 

And then she speaks up again.

“ You should come to the country club thing. “ 

And his heart sinks because — absolutely fucking not. 

[bungou-stray-dingus]

Now What?

Pairing : Michizo Tachihara x fem!Reader

A/N : First fiction for our underrated best boy Tachihara! Hope you enjoy this Angst!

T/W : Angst! Just a bunch of angst.

Word Count : 2.0K

Angstember Day 2

You had first seen him when you joined the Port. Gin was walking you down the long halls, he was walking in the opposite direction but he had caught your eye. There was something about him, you couldn't put your finger on it at the time, but you knew that you wanted him, that you wanted to be with him. You weren't sure how you would make that happen, but you knew it had to happen anyway.

You rolled over and saw his beautiful auburn hair shining a brilliant copper in the rising sun. He was already awake, staring at the ceiling with his arms folded behind his head. You could tell that he was in deep thought, something was on his mind, his lips turned down in a scowl that would put anyone else off, but you thought he looked adorable. You craned your neck to press a swift kiss to his cheek before pulling the blankets off and scooting out of the bed.

"You want anything for breakfast, babe?" You asked, standing at the end of the bed, leaning over the post as you stared at him.

"Nah, I'm fine. Probably gonna try to go back to sleep for a little bit before work. Wake me up when you're done eating though." You nodded, heading out of the room and quietly shutting the door behind you.

Something must have really been bothering him, he wasn't the type to skip out on breakfast. You wouldn't pry though, he was a "suffer in silence" type of person, he hated being questioned. If he really wanted to talk about it, if it was something that was really eating away at him, he knew that he could come to you and talk about it. You would make your breakfast and eat, and hopefully he would be feeling a little better by the time you were finished.

The eggs were frying in one pan, the bacon sizzling in another filled the silence that hung in the air. You heard the bedroom door open, and when you looked up from the stove you saw him emerge, fully dressed, ready to head out. "Did they call you in early?" You weren't used to him leaving without you, but you knew that sometimes he was needed in earlier than you were, but he also usually waited for you.

"Hm? Yeah, I didn't want to take you away from your breakfast, so I'll just meet you there." His response was dry, his amber eyes were distant, staring past you out the large kitchen window behind you. He didn't kiss you goodbye, he didn't hug you, he went straight for the door and walked out. It hurt, it didn't feel right, but you didn't want to bother him, so you went back to working on your breakfast.

You ate quickly, burning your mouth in the process. The way that he left had bothered you, it wasn't like him to act like that. You needed to know what was going on, help him figure it out so that you could have back your Tachihara.

You hurried around the kitchen, cleaning all the pots and plates you had used, making sure that everything would be perfect for when the two of you returned home from work. When you finished with the kitchen you ran to the room that you shared with him, making the bed before changing into your work clothes. You would get to the bottom of whatever it was that had him acting this way.

The bus ride to work felt strange, he wasn't next to you, his arm wasn't wrapped around you to held keep you steady whenever the bus jerked to a stop. He would sometimes rest his chin on your shoulder, kissing the back of your ear as he pulled you closer against his chest. He was always so gentle with you, making sure that you felt safe, and there was nothing that made you feel more secure than having his arms around you.

You pulled the rope to stop the bus a street away from the headquarters, stumbling forward when the driver slammed on the brakes a little too hard. You sighed, feeling your body heat up with embarrassment as you stepped off the bus, making your way quickly to the building so you could forget about what had just happened. The only thing you wanted right now was to see him, to make sure he was okay.

"Good morning Y/L/N." The secretary at the front of the building greeted you with a smile and you nodded to acknowledge her as you walked straight to the elevator that would carry you up to the floor where he usually was. You didn't want to pester him, you didn't want to seem overbearing, it's just that things didn't feel right.

When you got off the elevator you saw him walking down the hallway with Hirotsu, the smoke from his cigarette rising up into the air from in front of him. You quickened your pace so that you could meet up with them, and you could tell something was totally off when Hirotsu was the only one to offer you a smile as a greeting. You could have stopped him, grabbed his arm to get him to look at you and tell you what was wrong, but you didn't want to embarrass him, so you decided against it. "Good morning Hirotsu. Have you seen Gin?" You asked, deciding that you would keep your mind busy with training. Whatever it was could be dealt with later when you and Tachihara were alone.

You were in the middle of training with Gin, both of your knives wielded, ready to slice through the open space between the two of you as you both circled around each other. That's when your eyes caught the silhouette in the doorway, the auburn hair alerted you to who it was immediately, you had lost track for only a split second and she had your knife on the floor and hers against your throat. "Dammit, you got me." You sighed as she pulled the knife away. "Did you plan this?" You asked, looking over to Tachihara.

"No, I think he needs to talk to you though. He seemed on edge when he came in. I don't know what his problem is." She said, shaking her head as you both were now looking at him. His arms were folded against his chest, his back leaning against the frame of the door. You could tell that he was looking at you, you could feel his eyes on your face, and for some reason that made you slightly nervous, a little uncomfortable even.

You sheathed your knife in your back belt loop and walked over to him, it felt like your shoes were filled with lead. You didn't understand why you felt so scared, he was your boyfriend, you knew that he would never lay a finger on you, but something in your gut was telling you that something wasn't right, that something was terribly wrong. When you finally reached him, he didn't say anything, nothing at all. He slipped his arm around your waist and practically pulled you to the elevator. It didn't feel normal, it wasn't the feeling that you usually got when he wrapped his arm around you, everything just felt wrong.

"What is going on?" The elevator doors had shut and as soon as they did he had pulled away from you, he was on the complete other side of the elevator. You could see it in his eyes, they were darker, he was planning something and you wouldn't like the outcome of it. Your brain seemed to already know what was going to happen, but your heart refused to believe what your mind was saying.

"Wait until we get somewhere private. You're so impatient sometimes, you know that?" He grumbled, you weren't used to him using that tone with you. Had you done something wrong? You tried to think back, tried to find any reason that he would be this way towards you, but you came up blank. There was no reason for it, not on your end anyway.

"Michi..." You whispered his name, taking a step closer to him just as the doors opened. He rolled his eyes and stepped out, leaving you in the elevator, trying to understand what was going on.

"Will you hurry up? And, don't call me that here. God, that's embarrassing." You weren't about to cry, nope. You could keep telling yourself that, but you felt your chest tighten up, the lump rising in your throat, and the sudden urge to throw up. He never seemed bothered that you called him that before, you had used that name for him many times at work. He would usually come up and kiss you on your cheek when you did so. Now he was yelling at you, scolding you for it. What had caused the sudden shift?

You followed him to an empty room on the top floor, the ray of sun shining through the window showed the disturbed dust particles floating around freely. You had never been on the top floors, there was never a need for it. The rooms had been empty for a while, undisturbed and unneeded, but now you were here with him, and at this point you felt like you knew what was coming.

"How long were you planning on doing this, Michizo?" You tried to make yourself sound strong, unbothered by what was about to happen, but inside it felt like you were dying. It felt like your heart was breaking into pieces with each passing second, it felt like your airways were closing up more and more as you waited for him to say it.

"It's nothing you did wrong. It's not your fault Y/N."

"Oh don't give me that shit. It's not you, it's me... right? Right?! Save it!"

"I just don't want to be tied down right now. It's not good for me, it's not good for you."

"How do you know what's good for me?" You scoffed at him, at this point you were more angry than upset. You knew this speech, you knew what it meant. It would have been better if he had just said that he was leaving you because you weren't compatible, some bullshit like that would have been easier to stomach. Not this though, this felt like someone had stabbed you, and every time he spoke it was like someone was twisting the blade.

"Y/N... I- I've found someone else." You heard him clench his teeth as he waited for your response. How were you supposed to respond to that though? Were you supposed to congratulate him for cheating on you? Tell him "good job" for being unfaithful?

"So that's it... this is it for us? This is how it ends? That's great, that's fucking fantastic. Thank you. Really, thank you for this."

"Y/N."

"Don't... don't say my name. I- I hate you... I hate you so much." You felt like you couldn't breathe, it was like your entire world came crumbling down around you. You could barely hold yourself up.

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry? You're sorry?! God, people like you make me so fucking sick!"

"It's not like I don't love you... I just... I need to figure things out." You were on your way out of the room, but his words had made you freeze. Figure things out? His words had you seeing red, you turned on your heel to face him. "I know that sounds wrong, but-"

"You need to figure things out?! What does that even mean? You want to be able to sleep around with whoever you want while you keep me on the back burner? You want to keep stringing me along by saying you still love me? For what? What's the reason Tachihara?"

"It's complicated, Y/N."

"Do what you want, I don't care. But know this, I'm not going to be there when you decide to come back after you figured things out."

You walked out of the room, slamming the door behind you. The rage you felt, the anger and sadness, the pure heartache, you would use it to make you stronger.

He stood in the dusty room, his hands shoved in his pockets as he stared at the door you had just walked out of. It felt wrong, but he knew that he done the right thing. With everything that was going on, he knew it would be better to break your heart now rather than later. Maybe one day he'd be able to meet up with you again, he would tell you the truth about why he had done this, and maybe you'd understand. You'd know that that's the reason why he couldn't bring himself to say he didn't love you anymore, because as much as he wanted to lie to you, he couldn't lie about that. He loved you, and that's why he needed to make you leave.

[secretlysheikah]

Tower trouble part 2:

A Dark Imposter:

Here’s what my original story was meant to be. Once again I had to split the story so be on the look out for part 3. Be warned this is going to be a doozy. Better hold on to your hats.

If I missed any trigger warnings please let me know.

Linked universe belongs to @jojo56830

I’m just the dork who wanted to write some stuff.

Trigger warnings: blood, violence, injury

Start Here:

The hero’s actually slept in the next morning after their adventures with teleportation the day before. The sun was well over the horizon line by the time anyone rolled out of bed.

Wild was thankful for the late start. After eating dinner the night before (only after be reassured that Hyrule hadn’t cooked it) he only stayed up long enough to briefly discuss their plan of attack for the next day which was very very brief.

The plan basically boiled down to walking up the massive towering structure and fighting where they must. After that Wild had excused himself and went back to bed to collapse fully clothed in his gear, he didn’t even bother to take off his shoes.

Wild was surprised to see that he was the first to rise that morning. He also found that he felt well rested and ready to face the day, he certainly wasn’t expecting that. He stretched and yawned about to hop out of bed when he noticed his shoes were by his bed side. His hands flitted around his chest when he also realized his various weapon belts had also been removed. A quick glance around and he found them hanging on a peg next to the bed.

He must have been truly tired as to not even feel anyone removing them. He tried not to think about it. Years in the wild had taught him to sleep lightly always prepared to fight. The idea that he was so incapacitated that he didn’t even feel his weapon belts being removed made him uneasy. He hoped he wasn’t losing his edge.

Wild dressed quickly then, shoving he feet in his boots and changing his blue tunic for his Hylian tunic which had more protective padding. For some reason Wild had the feeling he was going to need it. There was an odd feeling of anxiety weighing on him as well, and he couldn’t seem to shake it off. The familiar weight of the leather armor comforted him slightly though, as he tightened the straps. He quickly fixed his hair too, pulling the tie tighter and making sure there wasn’t any pieces out of place.

Finally dressed and ready Wild trotted out front to the cooking pot. He might have missed making dinner but he was going to make sure breakfast was ready. He searched through his slate seeing what he had on hand. After a few minutes of contemplation he quickly threw together a breakfast of eggs, mixed vegetables and thickly sliced potatoes.

It wasn’t long until the others started to trickle out from the stable. The delicious waft of food calling them from bed. Before long they all found a seat and were eating greedily.

“Okay, we barely talked how we were going to get to this tower thing, Wild do you have any nuggets of wisdom for us?” Warriors asked with a mouthful of eggs. Wild nodded and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

“Alright, so to get to this tower we could go one of two ways. The first way is to climb the stairs that zig-zag up the mountain that the tower is on. But we would have to destroy some flying guardians and fight monsters all they way to the top.” Wild explained looking around the group to gauge their reactions.

“And the other way?” Four prodded and Wild continued.

“The other way is to rock climb up the back of the mountain. No monsters or guardians but it’s a sheer cliff and would take some time to climb up.” The others exchanged looks. Each option had its pros and cons.

“Well if we used the stairs we would save energy in case of a fight.” Warriors thought out loud.

“But what if we're ambushed on the stairs? They would have the upper hand” Legend said countering Warrior’s argument. Warriors shrugged.

“So you prefer the steep climb?” Warriors asked.

“No, in fact I really don’t. I vote stairs all the way if it saves me potentially breaking my leg again. I just wanted to look at all potential problems.” Legend said angrily chewing on his eggs. He rubbed his right leg, soothing away phantom pain.

“Personally I vote for the stairs” Wild interjected to everyone’s evident surprise.

“I have some special arrows that will take down the guardians in one shot, and the monsters shouldn’t pose a real threat.” Wild explained. “Not to mention it will help us keep our strength up if we don’t have to climb all the way up to the top of the mountain.” Wild finished, looking down at his plate as he scooped up the last of his potatoes.

“Well then, all in favor of the stairs say aye” Time said and there was a chorus of Ayes. Apparently no one wanted to have to climb a sheer cliff. Somehow Wild wasn’t too shocked by that, considering every time the group had to climb anything it was inevitable that someone (usually Legend) would get hurt.

“The Ayes have it, we use the stairs” Time said approvingly as he put his plate down. It didn’t take long to finishing putting the plan together. They all decided it would be Wild and Twilight first. Wild to clear the guardians ahead of the main group and Twilight to engage any monsters ahead of Wild that might try to attack while Wild was otherwise engaged. The others would quickly follow to support. Happy with their plan they dispersed, prepping their gear and making sure they had everything packed and ready to go.

The group was off within the hour making the short trek to the base of the mountain with very little small talk. Wild had expected some more lively banter but it appeared that he wasn’t the only one with the weight of anxiety hanging around him. Time and Twilight's posture was like taught bow strings and Legend was fiddling with his rings. Warriors and Wind were chatting quietly but not like normal, it was more subdued. Four and Sky followed behind their eyes darting around at everything. They were all preparing for the fight that was to come.

All too soon they were gathered at the base of the fortress. Because in reality that what it was, a fortress that we seemingly built around a mountain. Wild shuddered at the memory of first climbing to the top of the mountain. It had been very difficult and scary. The sun was bathing the side of the mountain in brilliant warmth that he knew would disappear come night fall. As he gazed at the fortress Wild felt a strange thrum of fear, his brain was screaming at him to get out of there, to leave. Wild took a deep breath, shaking away the anxiety the best he could. He had to work to do and the faster he got it done the faster he would be out of there. The heroes gathered behind some boulders that hid them from the view of the flying monstrosity that patrolled the bottom of the stairs.

“Okay, Wild, Twilight it looks like you’re up.” Time said as he watched the thing fly back and forth. They both nodded and climbed over the boulders staying low and running for the next patch of cover. They were silent as they ran, careful not to draw attention to their group.

“Are you sure you can hit that?” Twilight asked once they were alone. “That thing doesn’t seem to want to stay still for too long.”

Wild hummed in response eyes locked on target. He had knew what to do, he had taken these things down so many times it was almost muscle memory at this point. But he knew Twilight would tell him no if he told him. So deciding it was better to ask for forgiveness rather than permission Wild pulled out one of his ancient arrows and activated it and knocked it to the string of his bow.

“I’ve got this, stay here” Wild said before he launched himself out from their hiding spot and began running towards the stairs. Wild could hear Twilight curse and call after him but he ignored him. The guardian was making it’s way back and Wild snapped up his bow, planted his feet and aimed before he gave a loud whistle. Instantly there was a beam of red light targeting on to him, beeping loudly as it began to lock on. Wild took a moment to readjust his aim to the slightly bobbing blue orb that acted as the thing’s eye. The world stilled as he breathed in and let the arrow fly.

There was a twang of bow string and Wild watched the brilliant streak of blue fly towards the flying machine. His arrow struck true in the guardian’s eye and the guardian seemed to twitch and shudder. The propellers exploded violently as black smoke laced with pink swirling light engulfed the thing before plummeting to the earth with an explosive bang. A wide smile broke across his face as adrenaline sang through his veins.

Wild lowered his bow and jogged over to the machine. From sheer force of habit he bent over to scoop up some of the small parts that had broken loose from the guardian. Pulling out his slate he dropped them in. Once done he turned around to face the group and gestured for them to follow. There was a pause as eight pairs of wide eyes stared at him.

“Come on! The stairs should be clear for a little bit now!” Wild called out to them when the group still hadn’t moved. Finally snapped out of their stupor the other heroes began to clamber over the boulders and made their way towards him. Wild noticed with a wince that Twilight seemed to be several shades of pissed and Wild prepared for his rage.

“You’re a crazy fuck” Legend yelled in disbelief when he was close enough. Wild gave a small smile as the others quickly crowded around. Wild was about to say something when Twilight shoved past Legend jabbing a finger in Wild’s chest.

“And what exactly was that fucking bullshit?” Twilight yelled giving Wild another shove for good measure.

“It was me handling the guardian” Wild snapped back, not appreciating being shoved.

“That was you being fucking reckless! What the fuck is wrong with you?” Twilight was practically spitting with rage. Wild took another step back, feeling the sharp sting of shame and rage wash over him. Wild took a breath ready to yell back when Time stepped in and separated the two.

“Hey that is enough!” Time thundered and glared at Twilight and Wild. Twilight continued to glare at Wild and Wild couldn’t look at either of them. He didn’t trust himself to answer right away.

“I agree that what Wild did was reckless, and I want to hear why he did what he did” Time said looking at Wild expectantly. Wild squirmed under his glare but forced himself to look at them.

“Look, that was the only way to get a clean shot. The arrows I have specifically to take these things down are hard to come by and I don’t have many to spare.” Wild began fidgeting uncomfortably before taking a calming breath to continue.

“I’m sorry but it was the only way to make sure I didn’t fuck it up” Wild said, there was a slight tremor in his voice that he hoped the others wouldn’t be able to hear. Time nodded clearly thinking about something.

“These special arrows of yours, how many do you have?” Time asked and Wild glanced at his quiver counting quickly.

“I have four arrows left” Wild said and there was a heavy weight that fell on the group. “That’s why I need those guardians to lock onto me, it keeps them steady enough and lessens the chance that I’ll miss” To his surprise it was Twilight who spoke first.

“Alright, if that’s the case we need to think of a new plan because I’m having a hard time figuring out how to support you.” Twilight said crossing his arms waiting for Wild to think of a plan. Wild chewed at the inside of his cheek and looked at the stairs thinking. The stairs were narrow, and didn’t offer a lot of room for close range fighting.

“Okay, here’s what we do, I go first up the stairs with Twilight following close behind. Twilight can shoot any enemies that come my way while I get the guardian's attention and take it down.” He paused and looked at the group.

“You guys follow and offer what support you can but when I signal for you to take cover press yourselves against the wall so that the guardian can’t target on to you.” It wasn’t the most solid of plans, but it was all he could think of. There were nods as everyone accepted the new plan quickly. They ordered themselves so that the better archers of the group were first, then the others would follow.

They wasted no time making their way up the stairs. Wild with bow at the ready moved quickly, hugging close to the wall to make sure the others had a clear shot at the enemies that popped up on the staircase. After the second guardian was taken down the group made quick work of taking out the few monsters that had taken to patrolling the stairs, before once again hugging the wall and moving forward.

All things considered the plan worked like a dream. The group of heroes moved like a well oiled machine. There was only one misstep when a bokoblin had surprised the group and knocked into Wild just as he was about to take down the last guardian. The shot went wide missing the thing by a mile. Wild had to quickly reload and shoot, this time landing the second arrow deep into the glowing blue eye of the guardian. It had crashed into the staircase just in front of the group and took out the last two bokoblins that were harassing them.

When the Links finally reached the top they all had a look at the mysterious tower. They leaned back and looked up at the monstrous thing. It was absolutely gigantic. Various platforms dotted the outside shaft of the tower like some sort of odd flower stem. Though they quickly noticed something else about the base of the tower. It seemed to be surrounded by black and pink goo.

“Ew, what is this stuff?” Wind asked as he leaned down and reached a hand out as if he was going to touch the odd substance. Wild noticing this quickly strode over and smacked the other’s hand away.

“Don’t touch that, it will hurt you if you touch it” Wild said quickly. Wind’s eyes grew large with alarm.

“But what is this?” Wind pressed looking at the large amount of roiling gross that was not only surrounding the tower but also seemed to be slowly moving up the tower as well. Wild chewed on the inside of his cheek as he tried to think of how to explain.

“It’s called malice, it showed up when the Calamity destroyed my Hyrule over one hundred years ago.” Wild began, but he was having trouble getting his thoughts back in order. The heavy weight of dread and anxiety was now like a stone in his gut, making him feel queasy.

“This is wrong, this stuff shouldn’t be here. Not in this huge amount” Wild muttered taking a step closer to the dangerous material. “Most of It should have been destroyed along with the a Calamity, there’s no way it should be here in this large amount” there was a sickly feeling slowly growing in his gut that was akin to panic.

“You said it hurts you, what do you mean by that?” Warriors asked as he put a hand on Wild’s shoulder offering his silent support. Wild shuddered remembering the first time he encountered the substance. He swallowed hard preparing to explain.

“It feels like the most painful thing you’ve ever touched. Like lighting but so cold it burns your soul. The longer you’re in contact, the pain grows exponentially worse.” Wild took a deep breath. The memory of the pain still hauntingly clear. The group around him was as quite as a grave, waiting for him to continue. Wild coughed attempting to reorder his thoughts once again.

“It also acts like a poison. It makes your whole body weak and makes you sick.” Wild said quietly, his thoughts growing distant as if trying to protect him from the memories.

“How… How many times have you been exposed to this malice?” Four asked quietly from just behind him. Wild hadn’t even noticed him moving.

“Enough times. Accidentally stepping into it during a fight, brushing against while exploring castle town, in the castle…” Wild trailed off shuddering swallowing the acrid taste of metal that had filled his mouth. No one said a word, they were all transfixed in horror at Wild’s explanation.

“Every time I’ve been exposed to the stuff it took me days to recover. The fevers were the worst.” Wild shivered and swallowed hard again his hand slowly tracing the scars on his neck. He didn’t even notice Twilight standing next to him until he felt him brush against his shoulder snapping him back to the present. Wild looked over to him then and nodded his thanks for helping him come back to the present situation.

“Alright, don’t touch the goop. Got it. Now how the fuck are we getting up there?” Legend said eyeing the tower and pool of malice at the bottom.

“Ah, first of all you guys aren’t going up, there’s not enough room for all of us.” Wild said jogging around the rubble looking for something to help get closer to the tower.

“Well it looks like you aren’t either, it looks like there’s a wide band of that malice stuff wrapped around the middle of the tower” Time said apparently finished with his jog around the tower. Wild frowned and glared up at the tower before grabbing his slate turning his attention to finding a different way up.

Wild tapped on the glass and activated magnesis and pulled out a large flat metal beam from the malice. He carefully maneuvered the beam to lay across a gap connecting two pieces of the rubble so he could get closer to the tower to see his options.

He couldn’t climb the tower, and it looked like leaping from a higher ledge was also out of the question seeing as the malice had swelled up past any usable ledges. It was then that he truly missed Revali’s Gail. He huffed out a sigh, feeling a pang of loss at the thought of the lost champion. Wild shook his head, he had to pay attention, he didn’t have time to slip into melancholy now. Turning to walk out to stand with the others he saw what looked like a person standing in a darkened out cove. He whipped around but only saw the darkened corners of a wrecked room. Chills crawled up his spine and he double timed it back to the others.

When he returned to the group, they seemed to be spit balling ideas on how to get up the tower. “We could use our claw shots maybe?” Hyrule suggested but Time shook his head.

“The claw shot doesn’t have the range we need, and there would be a good chance it wouldn’t latch properly”

“I could try to use my gusty bellows, maybe I could blow the stuff off?” Sky said as he pawed through his bag.

“If that were the case we would just have to wait for a stiff enough breeze. No that stuff is stuck on there tight” Legend said tapping his chin with his index finger.

“Oh I know! We find a barrel and a board and we can set it up like a seesaw! I could my hammer to launch him into the air!” Wind said with a crazed look in his eye. There was a pause.

“Do you think you could get enough power to launch Wild up high enough?” Warriors asked. Twilight shook his head.

“We are not launching him off a…” but Wild interjected.

“It might work, though I might need something with a little more power.” Wild said as he looked through his slate.

“No, no we aren’t doing this. We can find another way.” Twilight said trying to wrestle the slate away. Wild danced out of the way and sly grin playing on his face when he found what he wanted. With a tap and bright flash of blue he held a square bomb above his head and gave a victorious cry and ran to the tallest ledge he could find.

“Absolutely not!” Twilight cried as he sprinted after him. Wild was already scrambling up the wall, bomb under his arm and laughing maniacally. He felt Twilight’s hand scrabble at his boot but he kicked away and got out of his reach.

“Come on Twi! It’s the best option we have!” Wild said with a sly smile, peering down at the murderous look his mentor was giving him.

“We can find another way!” He cried and Wild just shook his head. The grin that graced his face was almost painful.

“While you guys find another way, I’ll be trying my way. You better get your shields at the ready!” Wild called down and trotted away from the edge scooping the bomb up as he went.

“Like I said earlier, he really is a crazy fuck” Wild heard Legend say as he braced himself behind a shield. The others mumbled in agreement as they too readied themselves behind shields. Wild placed the bomb at the end of the ledge closest to the tower and backed up pulling out his own shield.

He couldn’t understand why the others were freaking out, it’s not like this was the first time he did something like this. Then again, he supposed that maybe the others didn’t actually see him do this. It was dark after all, and it they were kind of distracted with not being murdered by the monsters that had suddenly popped up in the middle of camp. He gave a little mental shrug, he supposed it was a little of column A and a little of column B. 

“Please be careful! We don’t have a lot of potions to spare!” Time called out from where he crouched. Wild gave a nod and threw him a thumbs up.

“No promises!” Wild yelled back before racing forward towards the bomb. He gave a jump, positioned his shield beneath him and exploded the bomb. Wild felt the heat of the explosion heat up the shield beneath him and was launched straight up into the air. His stomach lurched with the sudden momentum and he gave a delighted cry as he felt weightless. The bomb did a great job launching him, nearly blasting him right to the very top to the tower. Just as he felt gravity start to pull at his boots he deployed his paraglider drifting him close enough to the tower for him to grab the ledge. He hung there a moment before he heaved himself up and onto the edge of the tower.

It was cold up there, the wind cut through him and he felt his teeth starting to chatter. His breath puffed out in little clouds of steam. Looking down he saw his companions looking up at him. Wild waved down and gave them a thumbs up. He couldn’t hear their voices as they yelled up to him, the wind whistled too loud and drowned them out.

Shrugging Wild stood and turned to the face the plinth that sat in the middle of the tower. The guidance stone that sat above the plinth was still glowing a soft blue, nothing marking that something was wrong.

Wild felt his apprehension grow as he looked all around the top of the tower. This felt wrong. The shadows seemed to cling to corners despite the bright glow of the sun. He drew his sword and cautiously approached the plinth his eyes darting from shadow to shadow. When he reached the center he took a moment to circle it, inspecting the silent stone before him. It looked fine, but he felt a deep apprehension and distrust building in his chest. His brain was telling him to run, go back to the others and get the hell out of there. Wild swallowed the fear down, he would be quick and then they could leave.

Without any more fore thought he placed the slate down on the plinth… and nothing happened. His brow furrowed as he removed the slate and looked at the plinth again. If the tower wasn’t the thing that was broken, then what was happening? His skin crawled and he had the desperate urge to get back to the group. The silence of the tower made his heart race and his breath come in quick gasps. He put his slate away and began to walk quickly towards the edge of the tower, preparing to jump when he felt a hard blow to his side that sent him sprawling.

Cursing he clutched his side and got to his feet again sword held in front of him. It didn’t take long for his eyes to land on a hooded figure. It was about his height, slender with bright red eyes. It’s mouth stretched into a wide grin that seemed to large and when it spoke it sounded just like him. The hairs on his neck rose and he tensed gritting his teeth at the uncanny mimicry of his voice. The grip on his sword tightened.

“Hello hero of the Wild, I’ve waited a long time to meet you.” The hooded creature’s voice was soft as if it hadn’t used it’s voice in a very long time and Wild felt a stab of fear through his heart.

“Who the Hell are you?” Wild asked surprised to find that his voice was firm.

“Oh please pardon me. How rude, let me just…” and the figure pulled the hood back revealing his face. It looked just like him. The long hair, the clothes even the scars matched his perfectly except for his eyes, which glowed an eerie blood red.

“Do you recognize me now?” The not Wild asked. Wild just felt pure confusion, how was this possible? He was at a loss for words. The dark Wild seemed to notice this and continued.

“I am you, well, all of you technically. The other’s who know me call me Dark Link, though I think that's a little on the nose.” Dark Link tapped his nose and gave a wink. Wild said nothing, he hadn’t heard the others talk about this thing before. Or had they, and he just didn’t pay attention? Regret roiled in his gut, and a voice chided him for not paying attention.

“Ah, no matter it makes no difference, I’ll destroy you all in the end.” Dark Link almost sounded sad, like Wild not knowing who he was, was a real shame. Dark Link hummed as he looked Wild up and down as if judging him.

“I’ve watched for so long” Dark Link said pensively, slowly walking to match Wild who had started to circle around him.

“And I have to say the hatred you have for yourself is positively delicious.” Dark Link laughed quietly and made a gesture with his hands creating a black orb in front of it’s chest. Wild felt something odd plucking at his chest, like fingers plucking at harp strings. The black orb swirled and he could see pictures of his past, impossible memories. Old familiar faces flashing in quick succession, the different Champions as they fought a failing battle for their lives, the King as he was engulfed in flames, a destroyed castle and finally ending on Zelda’s face bloodied and bruised as she cried. Wild felt rage begin to boil in his blood and the other figure grinned in delight.

“I wonder what it feels like, to be such a failure that it brought all of Hyrule to it’s knees.”

Rage swelled in Wild’s chest and he sprang forward with a yell, sword swinging in a devastating arch. There was an odd ripple around Dark Link just before his blade struck, and he was gone popping up just to the side of the blade. The hand holding the orb swung in and landed on his side. There was an odd pressure, as if something was trying to sink into his rib cage, then Wild cried out in pain as dark wisps exploded outward and stabbed into his side. He felt blood beginning to well from the small punctures.

Wild quickly jerked his sword to the side slicing in tight circle. Dark Link avoided again and this time appeared behind his back. Wild whirled around shield blocking the strike from Dark Link’s sword. Wild quickly parried knocking the other Wild off kilter then lunged forward sword stabbing through it’s middle.

An evil laugh bubbled from Dark Link’s mouth and he grabbed the blade with his hand and pulled, forcing Wild closer. Rearing back Dark Link delivered a powerful back hand that sent Wild flying. He landed hard and skidded across the stone floor. Wild tasted blood in his mouth and his head spun sickeningly. He could already feel a bruise beginning to blossom across his cheek. Wild heard the screech of the sword’s tip being dragged along the floor as Dark Link moved towards him. Quickly Wild summoned another blade from his slate and he stood to face the monster.

“The others see you as monster you know. They whisper about it around the fire while you’re gone.” Dark Link said matter-of-factly, his red eyes stared into Wild’s blues. There was a heat behind the stare that seemed to want to burn Wild from the inside out.

“Liar! They would never…” Wild snarled and Dark only barked out a harsh laugh.

“And how can you be so sure? Because they’re your friends? Or maybe you consider them ‘family’ at this point.” Dark Link said with scorn as he made air quotes around the word family.

“To be honest I’m surprised the other heroes haven’t gotten rid of you yet.” Dark was holding the blade now, looking deep in thought as he inspected the weight of it. Dark gave a sigh as he mused, giving the blade a few test swings. Wild kept his eyes on the blade, it was lying, it had to be. The others would never… no. They wouldn’t. But a small voice in his mind still questioned. He held his sword tighter, shield raised and ready to defend.

“Maybe it’s because they want to keep you close; to make sure you can’t fuck up even more than you already have”

Wild felt another tug at his chest, this time it was painful making him gasp. Idly Dark Link looked at him his red eyes seemed to bore into him. Wild wanted to squint his eyes shut, but he held them open, he had to watch where this thing was. Wild’s mind raced as he mulled over Dark Link’s words, telling himself it wasn’t true. He was just trying to get to him, get him to falter. Dark Link tilted his head as if thinking of something.

“I grow bored of this conversation, how about we have a little fun?” Dark Link said with an odd trill in his voice. He snapped his fingers making multiple black orbs exploded into existence around his head.

“I want to show you what the other’s truly think of you, and I’ve got just the game!” Dark Link was practically crowing with delight. The orbs spun rapidly before shooting out pelting Wild forcefully. They melted as they struck and adhered to him like sticky tar. Wild wiped at his face trying to get the stuff off but stopped when he heard a whisper light laugh. He snapped his attention back to thing and found that Dark Link had changed slightly.

He mimicked Wild so closely that it was like staring into a mirror. Everything was copied even down to the traces of blood that had begun to speckle his tunic. His eyes were no longer red instead showing a bright blue.

“A little trick, I assure you. I’m still me, just with a couple tweaks.” The not Wild gave a toothy grin and Wild took an unconscious step back.

“You’ve got a new face too, and might I say you are looking quite, monstrous.” Not Wild cackled loudly grabbing his stomach with mirth. Wild felt a cold ball of dread form in his stomach. Then without preamble the not Wild sprinted forward arms wide and tackled him. The force of the blow knocked him off his feet and the two toppled over the edge of the tower.

Wild had enough time to let out a strangled cry as he felt air rush by his face. He kicked at his doppelgänger with his feet and knocked him off before deploying his paraglider. There was ring of malicious laughter and Dark Link disappeared. With a muttered curse he looked around for the other Wild. ‘Where had that thing gone?’ he couldn’t risk it hurting the others. Once he was close enough to the ground he dropped and landed on to the hard packed earth.

No sooner had his feet touched earth then he heard a battle cry. He whipped around wide eyed and startled, he saw Time dashing towards him and he didn’t look happy. Wild had just enough time to arm himself before Time was upon him. Wild raised his shield blocking a heavy blow from Time, and to Wild’s great distress he saw a hateful gleam to his eye.

“Wait! Stop it’s me!” Wild cried as he blocked another heavy swing from Time’s claymore. Time didn’t respond but only pressed the attack. It was like Time couldn’t hear him but still he tried.

“Please! Time! Old man, stop!” Wild shouted until he felt hoarse. The blows that Time was delivering were powerful and fast and Wild was having a hard time keeping up. He really didn’t want hurt Time, but Time didn’t seem so inclined towards mercy.

Just as Wild was blocking another swing he heard a another cry from behind him and just narrowly dodged a fatal strike from Hyrule.

“Ah! Fuck! What the Fuck!??” Where the Hell had he come from? Wild felt the wind from the blade as it breezed past his left side. Quickly shoving Time away Wild rolled to the side and popped back up to Hyrule’s right. Shield raised he ducked and blocked another swing from Time just as Hyrule reared back and went for another side swipe.

Wild gave a yelp of pain as Hyrule managed to land a hit. A fiery cut sliced through the left side of his tunic and parted the flesh just under his left rib. He felt blood cascade from the wound and he didn’t know how bad Hyrule had cut him.

“Damn it, Hyrule it’s me Wild!” Wild shouted a he side stepped to avoid another blow. His heart sank as realization dawned upon him, they really couldn’t hear him.

Time gave another swing of his blade and Wild felt a cut score just under his eye. He came to another quick realization then, if he kept trying to evade like this the attack would never end. Another block a quick roll to the side to avoid another blow. He had to stop them from attacking him, but that would mean he would have to hurt them to do so. He didn’t have long to debate as he felt the subtle crackle of electricity building in the air and he saw Hyrule, hand raised to the sky and muttering an incantation. Strengthening his resolve Wild slammed his sword back into it’s sheath and made a beeline to Hyrule.

“I’msorryimsorryimsorry” Wild chanted as he grabbed Hyrule’s raised arm and twisted pulling Hyrule off his feet and threw him forward to collide with Time who was running up behind him. The pair crashed together, hard, and they fell to the ground and laid still their limbs intertwined in a jumbled mess.

Wild was breathing hard but he didn’t have time to pause. There was a cry of rage behind him and suddenly he was face to face with Warriors as he tackled him, sword poised to cut his throat. Wild caught the sword on the edge of his shield just in time, stopping the blade a mere inch above his throat. They struggled, Warriors intent on pushing the blade closer to Wild’s neck and Wild shoving back with all the strength he had. There was a minute of silent struggle before Wild managed to work his feet underneath Warriors and kicked upwards. Warriors flipped over his head and landed face up on the dirt apparently winded. Wild quickly got to his feet only to have to quickly duck as a pissed off Legend seemed to appear out of nowhere and brandished his fire rod. Wild’s eyes flew wide as a huge gout of flame jetted out of the rod. Wild felt the flames lick past his shoulder and sear across his back. He let out a shout of pain as the flames tore into his clothes and burned his back. Wild quickly crouched down trying to avoid getting burned anymore then he already was and saw Warriors getting to his feet.

Wild quickly shot a hand upwards and grabbed the fire rod and twisted breaking Legend’s hold on the artifact. Fire rod in hand Wild shot up lunged towards Legend. Bringing his shield up he moved in close before swinging his shield and landing a blow across the side of Legend’s head. Legend spun to the ground knocked out cold. There was a strangled cry and Wild twisted around and threw the fire rod forcefully against Warrior’s head. It hit bulb first right smack dab in the middle of Warriors forehead. Warriors head rocked back with the blow and he too toppled over also out cold.

Wild paused then clutching his side tightly feeling blood welling through his fingers. Hyrule really had gotten him good. He let out a dark chuckle that was threatening to turn hysterical. He let his breath hitch and then forced the hysteria down, it would have to wait. There was a shout and Wild looked up to see Sky, Wind, Four and the impostor Wild round the corner of the tower, Twilight following close behind.

“Here we go” Wild muttered darkly as his eyes locked on the false Wild. A dark seed of hate buried itself deep in his chest, He was going to make sure that creature paid for this. The imposter seemed to know what Wild was thinking because he grinned and gave him a wink. Wild growled low and brought his shield up to defend.

Without preamble Wind and Four shot forward to meet him. When the pair got close Four skidded low sword poised to strike as Wind leapt high and pulled out his skull hammer and raised it high above his head. There was a split second for Wild to make a choice, block high or block low. He picked high not liking the potential of getting his head caved in. He tried to move out of the way of Four as he blocked Wind but was still caught by Four’s blade. It dug a deep gouge into his right thigh and Wild grunted in pain. The hammer landed hard against his shield and it shattered in blue sparks. The hammer continued down but it was slowed substantially, although it still had enough force that Wild felt an odd crack resonate deep in his forearm. Not broken but definitely fractured, he thought to himself as his arm flared with pain.

“Fucking fuck!” Wild yelled clutching his arm and stumbling away from the two smaller heroes. Wind hefted his hammer again and sprinted forward and swung, Wild unable to move quickly enough felt the hammer connect with his chest and he was sent flying. He collided with a wall. Darkness blurred his vision as he slumped to the ground on his hands and knees and gasped for air. It hurt, it hurt so bad. His breath wheezed out and he tasted blood. He forced himself to take a deep breath, and that simple motion sent him into a coughing fit. little specks of blood dotting the ground as he fought to regain control over his breathing. That probably wasn’t good he thought dimly but he didn’t have time think about it. Four was rushing forward now, sword aimed to kill.

Wild summoned another shield and rolled out of the way as Four struck. His blade burying deeply into the ground where Wild had once been. Quickly Wild raised his shield and activated magnesis and latched it onto Four’s sword. The smallest hero shouted in surprise but held onto his sword fighting for control against the magnetic pull. With a flick of Wild’s arm he sent Four flying across the battle field to strike up against a tree. The was a shout of pain and Four curled in on himself at the base of the tree, and Wild felt his soul sink. He didn’t want to hurt him that badly. Maybe he really was a monster a voice whispered to him in the back of his mind.

Wind yelled in rage and came at him again with his hammer. Wild managed to parry the blow gasping in pain as his ribs protested the wide swing. Wind was knocked away and Wild coughed again clutching at his ribs. Wind skidded to a stop and snarled before lunging again. This time Wild stepped forward, reared back and punched the youngest hero hard across the cheek. Wind’s hands loosened and dropped the hammer as he spun and landed on the ground clearly dazed and not going anywhere anytime soon. Wild shook his hand, clenching and unclenching it was he willed the pain away.

Wild slowly turned and faced Sky, Twilight and the not Wild. They were all standing at the ready swords raised. It was the imposter Wild who ran forward grinning as he swung wildly. The real Wild ducked and weaved the best he could with his chest burning with agony and his leg threatening to drop him at any minute. He drew his sword then and blocked another wild swing from his doppelgänger. Wild heard laughter bubble from the imposter and he shoved him back and they began to circle. Then there was a cry of pain from Sky from just behind his back. Wild turned and found the other hero clutching his hand where the master sword had burned him. There was a second of hope as Sky’s eyes grew wide as he stared at him.

“Wild? Is that you?” Sky whispered in confusion. Hope swelled as he nodded quickly. Sky knew! He could help him! Then his hope died as a black orb shot past his head and engulfed Sky’s head. Sky’s hands flew to his face as he tried to pry the thing off. He struggled for a couple seconds before giving out a choked breath and collapsed to the floor. Wild turned around and saw the imposter holding a finger to his mouth in a shhhh motion before running towards him. Wild shouted in rage and blocked the blow. With swords locked together Wild lifted his foot and kicked out vindictively and sent the other flying back.

With the other Wild sent flying he turned and ran to Sky, prying that he wasn’t dead. Just as he was about to reach him Wild felt someone grab his shirt and yank him off his feet. Wild rolled ass over tea kettle and came to a stop on his knees. He saw Twilight standing protectively over Sky, a look of murderous rage screwing up his features.

“Not another step forward you monster” Twilight hissed sword raised and pointed right in between Wild’s eyes.

“Please no, not you Twi.” He whispered, he felt his world crashing down around him and it was just him and Twilight. Wild felt his breath hitch and he forced himself to his feet. Wild coughed again and he felt blood drip from his mouth. He didn’t even know how he was standing everything was pain and fire and he just wanted to stop.

“Please, Twi, it’s me. It’s Wild. Please” Wild begged brokenly. His breath wheezed in and out painfully with the effort of talking. But Twilight didn’t falter, he only tensed holding his sword tighter. Wild tried to raise his sword and shield but let them drop, the will to continue fading. His breathing became more labored and it was all he could do to stay on his feet.

That was, until his tired eyes moved over to Sky, still prone on the ground not moving and the imposter Wild standing over him. The imposter looked at him and grinned. The false blue eyes flashed red and he raised his sword ready to strike the fallen Sky. The world stopped, his mouth went numb with horror. There was no time for thought, no time for a plan or even the pain, only action.

Wild let the sword and shield drop grabbing his bow and planting his feet. Knocking an arrow quickly he drew back and aimed for the Imposter Wild. There was battle cry from Twilight as he dashed forward sword drawn ready to strike. The word slowed, Wild let the arrow fly just as he felt Twilight’s sword run him through. There was a cacophonous bang and the tar like substance that had covered Wild shot away leaving a stick residue behind. Wild’s bow fell from weakening hands and he looked down at the steel between them. Wild could feel his eyes starting to mist over and he grabbed at Twilight’s shoulder and looked him in the eyes. Twilight’s face was slack with horror, blood draining from his face. He wanted to say something, anything but all that came out was a choked gasp and blood.

“Cub? By the Goddesses what have I done” Twilight whispered in horror. there was a whisper in Wild’s ear that only he could hear.

“What an interesting game this has been, I certainly hope you survive. Sweet dreams hero, I’ll see you later I’m sure.” there was a dark chuckle in his ear and the voice faded away. Cold was creeping into bones. Wild felt what little strength he had left drain away and be replaced with the heavy weight of sleep.

The sword was tossed aside and Wild felt his knees begin to buckle the world starting to spin away into darkness. Wild was vaguely aware of Twilight catching him, lowering him to the ground. Twilight was saying something, or maybe he was shouting? Wild was too tired to care, and it sounded far away anyways. It hurt to breathe, the shallow breaths he was able to draw in was an agony. There was a pressure on his stomach, and a faint tinkling of what sounded like bells before he let the darkness swallow him whole.

[sammysdewysensitiveeyes]

@sebastianshaw​  Hey, remember when I said that Potoroo Park was the dumbest thing I’ve ever written?  I take it back.  It’s this.  This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever written.  You have my deepest apologies. 

Dreams

Pyro was wearing one of his very old outfits – tight-fitting white pants that flared out at the ankles and a shimmery purple shirt. That was his first clue that something was wrong.  The second clue was that he appeared to be standing in the sand at Bondi Beach, one of Sydney’s most famous and popular tourist spots, instead of his familiar cabin on the Marauder.  

The third clue was the crowd of people rushing past him, screaming in terror.  

“What – “  A panicked surfer slammed into him before he could even get the question out, knocking him into the sand.  For a moment, Pyro was furious because the pants stained so easily, and he’d spent most of his paycheck for that last article on this outfit, and then he remembered that he hadn’t worn any of these clothes in decades.  They’d all gotten sold off at second-hand shops when St. John Allerdyce was packing up his civilian life and running off to become Pyro. He’d worn a lot more red and orange after that.    

The stampede continued around him as he picked himself up, and he could hear voices in the crowd.

“Emus!  The emus are coming!”  

“What?”  

“Emus, mate!”  One of the fleeing beach-goers stopped for a moment to push him along, and Pyro found himself running in spite of himself.  “They won the war and now they’ve turned on us!”  

“What?!”  

“And they’ve allied with cassowaries!”  

“Oh, fuck!”  And then Pyro was running in earnest.  Tourists were always fooled by cassowaries, with their vibrant blue heads that were so very pretty.  To hell with those those murder peacocks.  They were basically feathered dinosaurs, and they’d kick your guts out like an extra on Jurassic Park.  

The fact that none of this made any sense at all did not occur to Pyro.  He was too busy flailing as an errant foot sent him down into the sand again, this time getting stepped on by a few people.

“Augh!  Fuckin’…….gettoff!  Gettoff ya cunts!”  He pushed himself up, dazed, as the crowd receded into the distance, fully intending to burn every god damn one of them, which they totally deserved for trampling him into the dirt like that.  Although he might have to burn a few cassowaries, first.

Two booted feet suddenly appeared in the sand before him.  Pyro looked up, and immediately regreted it.  

The man wore thigh-high black leather boots, and what appeared to be a red diaper held up by odd suspenders crossed over his chest.  And nothing else.  Pyro was not a prude, or someone disgusted by the male body (quite the opposite, in fact). But he had no desire to see anyone dressed like that.  Especially not Fabian Cortez.

“You poor dear, those brutes have left you behind! Are you hurt?”  With a dazzling smile, Cortez offered Pyro a hand up, and the threat of murderous birds on their heels was enough to make him take it.

“Not to worry, my beauty,” Fabian continued before Pyro could even respond.  “I’ll save you!  You can be part of my harem when I defeat the emu army and am declared emperor for life!” He swept Pyro into his arms with surprising ease, and began sprinting down the beach.  

“Put me down, you sleazy piece of – “  Over Fabian’s shoulder, Pyro saw a cloud of dust on the horizon behind them.  The ground rumbled with the sound of powerful, clawed feet.  “Never mind, please keep carrying me.  And run faster.”

“Haha!  Don’t fret, my precious flower!  Those birds are no match for the mighty thighs of Fabian Cortez!”  

“Uh-huh, that’s great.  But I’ll just torch a few to discourage them from getting too close, shall I?”  The dust cloud was getting bigger, and Pryo could faintly see beady eyes and geaming claws in the mass.  He felt in his pockets for his lighter.  Then he felt again.  Then he desperately ran his hands all along his body, praying that he had it in some shirt pocket, even tucked away in his shoe.  

“Stop fidgeting, my cuddly koala!  I know you must be going nearly mad with desire, being so close to me, but please control yourself until I can deal with this crisis. Then I promise I’ll give you full and complete satisfaction, until you faint from sheer delight.”

“Where’s my bloody lighter you wanker?”  Pyro yelled, yanking on Fabain’s long red braid. “I need my lighter!”  

“You don’t need that!”  Fabian argued.  “You only need me!”

“I.  Need. My.  Fucking.  Lighter,” Pyro growled, punctuating each word with another yank on the braid.  He tried to focus on the anger, and not on the panic that was bubbling up in his chest.  No lighter meant he was completely and utterly exposed.  His powers meant fuck-all without fire for him to grab hold of. Because God forbid the fire-manipulating guy actually be able to create fire, right?  That would make things too easy.  

“Don’t get hysterical, my darling wallaby!  Upon my word as a gentleman and supreme mutant, I’ll protect you.  We just have to get to the high ground!”  

“What high ground?”  Pyro exclaimed, but suddenly they were right in front of the Sydney Opera House.  Which was miles away from Bondi Beach, nowhere near running distance, but what the hell.

“We shall climb to safety, my exquisite dingo. And from there I can come up with a strategic plan to save the country –“  Fabian was interrupted as a cassowary charged at him, kicking and squawking.   He jumped back with a rather undiginified squawk of his own.  The birds were all around them now, jabbing and kicking with beaks and claws.  

“Never mind, Allerdyce, it’s every man for himself! I’ll remember your sacrifice, my dearest Tasmanian devil!”  Fabian dropped Pyro, leaped onto the wall and began climbing.

“Wait just a damn minute, you piece of – “   Pyro began climbing himself.  It shouldn’t have been possible to scale Sydney Opera House, but somehow he was doing it, and very quickly went from the main building up onto the shell-like half-domes that protruded up from the roof.

“We’ll be safe up here, my sweet funnel-web spider! Emus and cassowaries are flightless birds!”  Fabian called down.

“I know they’re flightless birds, I’m from this country!”  Pyro looked down for a moment, at the dark mass of birds gathered below him.  There were thousands of them.  Which wouldn’t be a problem if Pyro just had his damned lighter, but of course he was one of the few mutants that needed some outside “help” to use his powers. Fuck genetics right up the arse.  

But it was okay, as long as they stayed up high on the building.  

Wait.  There was a flurry of activity down below, and Pyro saw, to his disbelief, the birds starting to stand on each other’s backs.  

“Climb faster, Cortez!” he yelled up, but soon they reached the tip of the tallest shell, and there was nowhere else to go.          

“I don’t suppose there’s the slightest chance you’ve got some matches in that diaper of yours, is there?”  Pyro asked in despair.

“I’m afraid not, my beloved duck-billed platypus. The only hot thing inside my pants is – “

“Shut UP, Cortez!”  Pyro looked down, and immediately regreted it.  The emu-cassowary “ladders” were working their way up the building.  

“Look!  Up in the sky!”  Fabian pointed at a dot far in the distance.  “Is it a bird, or perhaps a plane?”

“That’s not really a pressing issue right now, Cortez!” Pyro snapped, but he paused to look at the dot all the same.  It was quickly getting bigger, as if approaching them.  In a moment, it took shape, revealing the sillouhette of a man.

That in itself wasn’t so strange.  There were all sorts of mutant flyers, both men and women. But there was something especially odd about this one.  There were thin, wing-like appendages that seemed to be protruding out of his face. Then the figure came close enough to recognize, and Pyro groaned.  This was the only thing that could make his day worse.

“Greetings, friends!” exclaimed Sebastian Shaw, looking far cheerier than usual.  “It seems as though you need some assistance!  Let me read to you from the Seven Habits of Highly Effective People!”  

He was wearing his usual rich-as-fuck business suit, but…his hair.  Pyro realized with growing disgust that Shaw’s sideburns had grown freakishly long and seemed to move of their own accord, like the tentacles of some deep-water sea creature.  It appeared to be the primary thing holding him aloft.

“Shaw, what the fuck?!”

“Who is Shaw?”  Sebastian looked innocently confused, a completely alien expression on his face.  “I am the Flying Capitalist, my friends, and I’m here to help people help themselves! I know that with the proper encouragement, you two can overcome adversity, just as I once did!  I worked 13-hour shifts in the foundry starting at age 9, and it made me the man I am today!  Here, have some applications for a management training program!”  Shaw tossed paper down at them.

“Or maybe you could carry us out of here?” Pyro asked.  “Since you can fly and all that…..somehow.”  The sideburns fluttered like pennants for the world’s most disgusting baseball team as Shaw bobbed up and down with the air currents.

“Yes, save us, Flying Capitalist!”  Fabian begged.  “Or at least save me, if there’s only room for one!”    

“Oh, I could carry you to safety.  But would that really be helping you?”

“Yes!”  Pyro exclaimed.

“Nonsense!”  Sebastian waved a hand.  “The real assistance is to help you help yourself.  After all, give a man a fish and he eats for a day.  Teach a man to fish, and he becomes your competitor. But, teach a man to sweep floors and carry buckets of cod, and you can employ him at minimum wage in your fish processing plant!  Everyone wins!  But especially me!”  

“What the absolute bloody fuck are you talking about?”

“There are no free rides in this life, son,” Sebastian continued, now looking stern.  “I’ve done all I can at this point.  You’ll have to get yourself out of this.  Just pull yourself up by your bootstraps and levitate!”  

“That’s completely impossible!” Pyro said.

“Nothings impossible if you’ve got will and drive! It’s the American way!  They said I’d never bring sideburns back, but look at me now!”  

Pyro was trying not to.  The horrible, undulating waves of hair stretched too far across the sky.

“Just pull yourself up, Allerdyce!  You can do it!  Actually, I doubt you can, but it doesn’t matter.  Progress and industry don’t slow down for the incompetent.” Sideburns flapping, Sebastian started to rise into the air again.  “Read Atlas Shrugged!”

“Shaw, have you got a lighter?  At least toss me a lighter!”  Pyro called after him.

“Boooootsraaaaaps……”  came Sebastian’s voice, faint on the wind as he flew away into the clouds.    

For a moment, Pyro and Fabian looked at each other, then back down at the ground.  The emu and cassowaries, piled atop each other, had created a massive living wall that was now dangerously close.

“Maybe we can negotiate?”  

“With who exatly?”

“I think that’s their leader!”  Fabian pointed at a small figure, perched atop the head of the central cassowary.  If Pyro squinted, he could see that it appeared to be wearing a tiny crown and mantle.

“Oh look at it, it’s so cute!”  Fabian gushed.  “Look at its little whiskers and paws!”  

It was cute.  The tiny rodent – Pyro thought he remembered it having some silly name….pootalo?  Poorooto? – gazed up at them with unreadable black eyes.  It twitched it’s adorable little nose, and held out a tiny paw.  Then it turned the paw in a very clear thumbs down gesture.  

“Oh, for fucks sakes!”  Pyro exclaimed as the emus surged forward, up towards them.  

“Maybe we can appease them with a sacrifice!  Forgive me, my petite salt-water crocodile.  I’ll never forget you!”  Cortez grabbed Pyro and attempted to shove him off the ledge.

“Like, hell, Cortez!  You’re coming down with me!”  Pyro wrapped his hands around Fabian’s neck and held on as they tipped forward past the point of no return.  For an instant they were tumbling down towards the sea of birds and the cold dark eyes of King Potoroo –

Then, Pyro jerked awake and felt himself hit the floor.  He flailed around frantically for a moment, and realized that he was sprawled in his cabin on the Marauder  

“Ugh…..”  Pyro lay still while the wave of nausea that always accompanied his hang-overs washed over him.  This time it was accompanied by a sense of relief as the nightmare faded.

“What the god damn hell was that all about?”  Pyro muttered aloud.  Was it some kind of extremely problematic expression of suppressed guilt for living in a country founded on colonization?  Pyro didn’t really dwell on it, but he was well aware of Australia’s bloody history.  Was it his own underlying insecurity about his powers, which at times seemed to reduce him to “guy with flame-thrower”?  Was it a twisted version of his latest romance novel, first draft still halfway completed?  Was he somehow punishing himself for past crimes by dreaming about the two worst people in the entire world?

As his vision came into focus, Pyro spotted the bottle lying next to him.  Tequila, laced with mescaline, which Shinobi had acquired on the black market.  Shinobi, who was still on the bed, snored peacefully, with every inch of the sheets wrapped around him in a satin cocoon.  

Well, that explained it.  Throwing on a pair of shorts, Pyro staggered out to the top deck, and tossed the bottle overboard.  Never again. 

FYI: Fabian is wearing this outfit from the terrible sci-fi movie Zardoz.  I’m so sorry.

[starryseo]

mayhem. [2/3] | seo changbin

pairing ↠ changbin x gn!reader genre ↠ more chaotic roommates interactions; humour + fluff wc ↠ 2994 summary ↠ one of changbin’s many talents is getting revenge. warnings ↠ swearing, suggestive remarks a/n ↠ need me a man like bin :(

read: mess (part one) | MAYHEM | purify (part three)

series masterlist

You’re pretty sure you could hear Changbin cackling outside your door before it was even seven in the morning. As soon as your shrill alarm sounded, he kicked open your door, screaming, “Wake up, bitch!”

You drowned out his constant wake up, wake up, wake the fuck up, baby by rolling over and burying yourself under your duvet. The alarm was adding to the unholy cacophony happening on the other side of your safety blanket and you prayed for some escape plan to come to mind, but Spiderman wasn’t swooping in any time soon to save you. You doubt he’d be able to stop Changbin in this mood, anyway. Alas, you mentally prepared your dying words, praising everyone you’ve ever met except your screeching devil of a roommate and Jisung who you know spilled coffee on your previously-white shoes despite his vehement denial. You know. 

When your warmth was violently ripped away from you, leaving you quaking and exposed to Changbin’s icy wrath, you curled up, covering your ears with your hands because the asshole still hadn’t shut up.

He pulled your hands away easily - completely undeterred by your resistance - only to lean in close, and then closer, to whisper, “Rise and shine, fucker.”

You were not above pleading for your life - fully prepared to sell your soul, or even sacrifice someone (the devil probably wouldn’t accept Jisung, so Hyunjin would have to do) - but Changbin was ruthless and dead-set on making this your worst day. He had to avenge himself. Redeem his dignity. His manhood was at stake here, goddamnit.

After finally turning your alarm off, you turned back to Changbin who had thrown open your curtains. You hissed when the light hit your eyes, not at all prepared for the sun to scorch your eyes. Anguished, you grabbed onto your blanket once more, burying yourself under its momentary comfort. Instead of tugging away your cover like you expected, Changbin hauled himself on top of your bed, shaking your body this way and that, poking and prodding and pinching until you threw your duvet away and groaned, “Fuck off!”

He was straddling your legs, holding onto the top of your duvet so you couldn’t cover yourself again. You were so tempted to knee him where it would really hurt but, with the devious state he was in, he’d probably feed off of the pain and pay it back tenfold. Masochistic asshole.

He waited for your groans to stop before he jumped off your bed. “If you’re not out in 10 seconds, I will pour water on you.”

He sang a countdown, too much glee in his voice, and you let yourself mentally plan his murder in the five seconds it took for you to stand up. Usually, these ploys would have you huffing laughter - your phone’s storage was overflowing with videos of waking up Chan in increasingly annoying ways (pouring water, slathering butter, swiping jam on him) - but being on the receiving end of his schemes didn’t seem like fun. No more tricks on poor Chan. No more.

He nodded when you were up, saying “Follow me” before marching out of your room. Reluctantly, you trudged behind him and, when your heavy-footed dragging irked him too much, he grabbed your arm, and hurried his pace, running to your impending demise.

You have no idea how early he woke up to clean the living room but it was spotless. All rubbish from yesterday was tidied away, the blankets were neatly folded over the sofa and the tv was dusted? Despite your current situation, you were very proud that your work yesterday paid off: Changbin had finally learnt how to clean up a place. Now you could fairly assign chores (because right now he was in charge of food and that either involved inviting Woojin over to cook, or getting takeout).

“Wow,” you drawled, admiring how tidy the table was, “Love what you’ve done with the place!”

“Yeah, no thanks to your lazy ass,” he replied quickly, grabbing the same apron you had made him wear. “Dress up, babe.”

Hurriedly, you put it on, hating the way he smirked after. You crossed your arms, grumbling under your breath about how much you can’t stand this 4’2 piece of crap.

“At least read it,” he nodded to the apron, “I made an upgrade.”

You uncrossed your arms, looking down to see Changbin’s shitty handwriting scrawled over the clothing. You squinted, trying to decipher the words, but Changbin’s writing was barely legible upright, you hadn’t mastered reading it upside yet. “What’s it say?”

You looked up to see him merrily snapping away pictures of you. The asshole. You crossed your arms over again, glaring at him as he laughed. “Too late for that,” he let out another snicker, “this one’s my favourite.” He turned his phone to show you a picture of you looking straight at the camera, eyes narrowed and lips pursed because he had taken it as soon as you realised what he was doing.

“If you do everything I say, I won’t send it to the others.”

“Bitch.”

“According to the apron, you’re my bitch, actually.”

He started off easy enough - the calm before the storm, you reckon - telling you to make breakfast first. You contemplated making something fancy, cook up eggs and hash browns - maybe bribe him into easing off such a deadly payment, but he wouldn’t sway, so you settled with pouring cereal for the two of you.

You made sure to put extra milk in his so it would go soggy more quickly.

When breakfast was done, he watched you wash the dishes, sitting himself on the counter; he had the audacity to video call Felix as you cleaned up. Facing the phone towards you, you blatantly ignored Felix and Changbin’s laughter. “C’mon, y/n, at least say hi to him!”

“Yeah, y/n! How are you this fine morning? Lovely day, don’t you think?”

“Why the fuck are you even awake?” you grumbled, rubbing the soapy sponge around the bowl extra hard, imagining it wasn’t Changbin’s stupid face.

Felix shrugged, not that you could see, before replying, “Was bored.”

“Oh, oh! Show him your clothes!”

“Yeah, show me your clothes!” Felix perked up, “What’re you wearing?”

You turned away further from him, but Changbin was persistently nudging your side with his foot. “Nothing,” you grumbled, flicking soapy water on Changbin and he sputtered, viciously rubbing his face when nasty droplets fell there.

“Okay, you’re clearly not wearing nothing,” Felix huffed, “unless you’re not wearing trousers? I can’t see there, Changbin move your phone!”

“No! What the hell, ‘Lix, obviously I’m wearing trousers!”

“For now,” Changbin added, and he snickered when you glared at him, “I’m kidding, relax.”

“Sure you are,” Felix muttered, rolling his eyes. “So, what’s up with the clothes, then?”

“Chanbin’s an asshole is what’s up,” you said, finally done with washing the dishes. You faced the phone - better to get the mockery over and done with now - and you watched as Felix’s face contorted into a tight smile before the dam burst and his laughter was booming through the speakers. You groaned when he showed Jisung - who actually stopped playing PS4 just to see what was so amazing - and the asshole joined in on the laughter. A great start to the morning, really.

In between laughter, Felix asked, “how much for the apron?”

Just your dignity you replied as Changbin yelled, “not for sale!”

“I’ll take it!”

When you entered your bedroom with Changbin, you were appalled with yourself. His room - well, prior to yesterday - was infinitely worse than your own still, but yours wasn’t far off. Clothes were precariously hanging off your desk chair, textbooks were scattered in all four corners of your room, to-go cups and bottles were peeking out from under your bed. It was dreadful, put lightly.

“Alright, dumbass, I’ll get bin bags, you start picking shit up.”

“How about I get the bin bags and you pick things up?” you asked, already crouching to pick up empty food wrappers, knowing his answer. He rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he left.

He came a few moments later with the black bags, ripping one off and holding it open for you to dump what you had gathered in. You went around your room, throwing your rubbish into the bag. Changbin, strangely, was helping you, too, kicking bottles and takeaway boxes closer to the bag so you could bin it. He even cleared out your bin, and you paused in your clean-up as he put a new bin bag in. He scoffed when he caught you staring silently, “M’not helping you out anymore, now.” He rolled his eyes at your pout, standing by the door, “Hurry up, this shit ain’t cleaning itself.”

Once the floor was cleared of all rubbish, Changbin told you to take your bedsheets off. He left to throw the bags away and returned with clean sheets - neon covers that he bought as a gift because he knew the bright colours would be an eyesore in the morning - and you sighed when he put them on the bed.

You took your time removing the dirty covers, and Changbin huffed at your pace, whining, “Hurry up, you’re no fun!”

He rolled his eyes, grabbing your pillow and hitting you with it once - then twice because you called him a little bitch - before he took off the pillow cover and tossed it over his shoulder. He also started taking off the bed sheet and you couldn’t help but stop, just watching the way he actually helped you out. Again. When he saw you stop, he grabbed your pillow again, moving to hit you, but you quickly pulled away your half of the bed sheet. “I’m done, I’m done!”

After replacing the old sheets - by yourself, because Changbin had already helped you too much - you began clearing your desk. You busied yourself with sorting out old papers and notebooks, things you’d keep and things you’d bin, humming along to the music that Changbin had put on. Your back was to him, but the sound of things shuffling about eventually coaxed you into turning around to look at Changbin.

For the third time that day, you stopped. He was cleaning? Again? He was moving things on your bedside table, wiping the wood down before putting the objects back. He was even thoroughly dusting away your lamp.

Enough was enough.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“What you should be doing too,” he answered swiftly, not even looking up as he finished his work, “I’m getting the vacuum.”

He left promptly after, leaving you awe-struck. This couldn’t possibly be the same Changbin you had known for years, right? There was no way this was the same Seo Changbin that had sat on Hyunjin for 2 straight hours for absolutely no reason, the same Changbin that ate an expired cake, threw it up on Chan, then continued eating it. No way. Some alien must have cloned him overnight, or maybe shapeshifters were real, who knew? The only thing you knew for sure was that that wasn’t Changbin.

When he returned with the vacuum and proceeded to plug it in and start cleaning that side of the room, you were convinced something traumatic must have happened to the real Changbin overnight. But you had heard nothing from his room last night, so what the hell was going on?

“Oh my God!” you exclaimed, jumping up and pointing at him. Your shriek had Changbin hurriedly turning off the vacuum, facing you with a raised brow. “You’re possessed!”

“What the fuck are you on about?”

“Cut the shit, demon, I’ve watched Buzzfeed Unsolved, I see through your lies.”

“What? Can you just hurry up?”

“Not until you let me exorcise you.”

“You wanna exercise together? I have some ideas-” The lewd smirk he shot your way had you immediately cringing.

“Exorcise,” you emphasised - because if Changbin was going to sell his soul to anyone, you wouldn’t rule out a sex demon, “But I take it back. You might be a nicer roommate than Bin.”

“Okay first of all, rude. I’m an amazing roommate,” he started, shaking the vacuum in hand to prove his point, “and secondly, if I was a demon - which I am neither confirming, nor denying - why would I let you exorcise me?”

“To throw me off?” You shrugged. So, the sex demon had more brain cells than Changbin, you gathered. He was already shaping up to be a better roommate than Changbin (who you were definitely not going to miss), maybe you could use his new smarts to your advantage. “How good are you at computer science?”

“I do physics?”

“Why does that sound like a question?”

“Because why not?”

“Stop answering my questions with questions!”

“Or what?”

Maybe he wasn’t possessed, because he was still an asshole. Maybe consecutive days of cleaning were really getting to him.

You hadn’t cleared Changbin of being a demon just yet, but your room was significantly tidier. The floor was vacuumed, desk was dusted; Changbin had even managed to scrub away at a coffee stain on your floor - the mark had been there for so long, this accomplishment practically confirmed your demon theory.

You admired your now-spotless room, the cleaning was surprisingly therapeutic and you were thankful Changbin had made the day enjoyable. You thought, for sure, this would be a day in hell because your roommate was never one to miss a chance to get revenge on someone. And, after what you had done to him - or, well, made him do - you thought you were a goner. But Changbin didn’t hide your phone and your laptop was safely on your desk. He had blackmailed you with absolutely nothing, yet you did his bidding. He was definitely a demon.

After a quick retreat to the bathroom where you messaged your friends to save you from this demon, you joined Changbin in the living room.

You: a demon has taken over bin and im probably next, see yall in hell

Felix: get freaky w the demon before u die 

You: why the fuCk would i do that??? 

You: also, no bc it’s in bin’s body so ew 🤢🤮

Felix: oh fuck even better im omw 😫😫

He was relaxing on the sofa, sprawled over the furniture, but he had left enough room for you at the end. When you sat, he placed his feet in your lap, snuggling further into his blanket burrito.

“I put pizza in the oven, should be done in 10. Wanna pick a film?”

“Yeah,” you drawled, picking the remote up from atop his chest, “you sure you’re feeling okay?”

“Think your dusty ass room is getting to me,” he replied, scrunching his nose and sniffing, “why do you keep asking?”

“Because you helped me clean today. I thought I’d be dead - or at least begging for it - by the end of today.”

“I can have you begging for-”

���Oh my God, stop.” You interrupted whatever crude remark the sex demon was conjuring. “You’re definitely not okay.”

“I’m fine. I helped you because I know you’ve been busy, okay? Now stop asking stupid shit, stop with your demonic bullshit. Y’know I’m not actually possessed, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” - no, you didn’t - “but, like, are you sure? No fever, or headaches?”

Changbin being considerate was a rare occasion - unlikely, yet possible - but to err on the side of caution, you needed to disprove your demon theory. You reached over to check his temperature and he shuffled away as best as he could despite being wrapped up like a demonic little gift. Like a present from the devil himself - how kind.

“For the hundredth time, I’m fine.”

“If you say so,” you shrugged, facing the tv to find a film, “how do you feel about a horror film?”

“Fucking impartial,” he groaned, “and now I’ve got a headache!”

“Can demons get ill?”

“I wouldn’t fucking know!”

“Oh, so this is your first possession?”

“Dear God-”

“Isn’t that blasphemous?”

He sighed.

You were happily eating away at your pizza, watching a romcom - the demon was already feeding off of Changbin’s lifeform, you weren’t going to fuel its fire with scary shit - when several knocks sounded at the door.

You looked to Changbin and he turned to you, both of you shrugging. He faced the tv again and you put the volume higher to drown out the knocking. You hadn’t invited anyone over, so they weren’t your problem and this love triangle was much more interesting.

When someone on the other side of the door started shrieking - not saying anything coherent, literally just screaming all high-pitched and deafening - you groaned, pausing the film.

You threw open the door, the what the hell- dying on your lips when you say all of your friends at the door. Felix was still screeching until Seungmin whacked his stomach. You all simultaneously winced as Felix was winded, bending over in pain, letting out a weak ouch.

“Is that pizza?” Jisung asked, sniffing the air, “It is! Lemme in-”

“Shut up,” Chan nudged him away, before immediately moving into your home, “We’re here to help.”

You stepped back - not even bothering to try stopping 8 grown men from entering, “Help with…?”

“That monstrosity,” Hyunjin replied, pointing to Changbin who had sat up, still wrapped up tightly.

“For fucks sake, y/n. Seriously?” Changbin yelled, emerging from his safety roll. “I’m not a fucking demon!”

“That’s exactly what a demon would say,” Jisung retorted without skipping a beat.

“That’s what I said!” You replied, shutting the door behind them.

“Alright,” Chan clapped, and you all readied yourself, Changbin rolling his eyes and looking as exasperated as ever, “Grab him.”

[ari-auguste]

⌠ LUKA SABBAT, 22, MALE, HE/HIM ⌡ welcome back to gallagher academy, AREN 'ARI' AUGUSTE ! according to their records, they’re a SECOND year, specializing in DRIVER'S ED and they DID NOT go to a spy prep high school. when i see them walking around in the halls, i usually see a flash of (oversized knitted sweaters & flannels, chipped nails too short from biting them too much, colorful themed bandaids even when he doesn't need them). when it’s the (taurus)’s birthday on 4/30/1998, they always request their SHAMROCK SHAKE from the school’s chefs. looks like they’re well on their way to graduation.

pinboard xxx

@gallagherintro​

about

he’s from georgia, the land of peaches, and yes. they’re his favorite fruit.

ari’s life was kind of a normal one. he had an older brother who was his best friend, a mother who loved him and a father who spoiled them every single day.

(tw death, gun violence) on ari’s twelfth birthday, his parents took him to the zoo, his favorite place on earth, and he remembers that day as both the best and the worst of his life. on their way back home, their car and a few others got caught in between gangs’ trouble, and with a round of bullets, everyone in ari’s car was killed except for him, thanks to his brother who used his body to cover him, thus saving him from harm. he was found by the police still underneath his brother’s lifeless body and immediately put in the foster system.

a part of ari’s brain simply blocked what happened. he knew the facts, and as trauma specialists treated him upon his arrival to the station, they realized that ari’s way to assimilate what had happened was seemingly too mature. they waited because they knew there was a lion inside him, ready to pounce and duel, but he never did. instead, ari retreated, became a shy, yet charming young man, with pretty distinctive interests. he threw himself fully into art, music, and books, everything that could keep him busy.

he never had his heart set on being actually adopted. he knew he was too old for that, and he didn’t stand a chance against other younger, cuter, less traumatized kids, but he was never actually bitter about that. instead, he enjoyed the change from foster family to foster family, and even came to love his foster siblings hard and fast, like he would with blood relatives.

despite it all, ari seemed to be a happy guy. he never skipped a therapy session, and even though school wasn’t his strongest skill, he went by, and soon enough, he turned eighteen, thus freeing himself from the system. but he had nothing.

it became apparent then that survival was ari’s strength. he was witty enough to get money (in mainly legal ways, although there were a few stolen pennys and twenties, maybe a wallet or two out of drunks in the streets). he played music in the streets, sold his art on special markets, he got by. it was when he got tired of georgia and wanted to try a bigger city like new york, that he committed his first big crime, his first big mistake, and yet his biggest blessing.

ari stole a car. it was a relatively easy task for him, which surprised him at first, and then simply just drove away. the adrenaline of the moment settling in his stomach, turning into pride as he got further from his hometown. two days later, there was a police alert on him and the car he was driving, so he stopped in the next station and got on a different model and drove away, until he crossed the entire country all the way to LA. this was the greatest adventure of his life, and even though he knew the cops were on his heels, he didn’t stop. if he was going to go down, he would go down fighting, the adrenaline in his body spoke. 

it was a few weeks later when he was finally chased down somewhere in LA. some neighbor had said something and it seemed to be all over for him, but he did what he knew best and took said neighbor’s car and attempted to drive away, if only for one more taste at the adrenaline. it was all over the news, the chase that lasted hours. he managed to dodge the police in ways nobody had ever seen before. it was better than any movie, and the sense of pride he felt as he listened to the narration of his own chase on the radio as he sped up through the highway was something he never felt before. the high he chased all his life. but it could only last so long before he fucked up the brakes of the car and ended up crashing against a dumpster in the middle of nowhere. he lost consciousness in the car, and next thing he knew, he was in jail.

his life was over, it seemed. it had been a good run, but he hadn’t been smart enough. he couldn’t afford a lawyer, he was guilty of charges. there was no way out. except one day a strange man showed up, someone he never saw before, but knew too much about his life, his reasons and his need to be free, and exchanged his freedom, for his admission  and loyalty to gallagher.

miscelaneous

he’s got too many tattoos all over his body. all of them with some sort of meaning nobody knows. it’s passages from his life in art designed by himself.

he likes to draw people, but he appeals to the essence of people. what they look like to him in his head, not exactly portraits, but something more abstract.

there’s always a pencil on him. stuck in his hair, behind his ear, in his pocket– anywhere, really.

he’s always drumming on tables, his knees always bouncing. he’s rarely ever quiet, he’s always humming a song as well.

he loves comic books? he dreams to make his very own graphic novel, and he’s very passionate about those.

he disassociates a lot, but has an odd capacity of attention. his brain just catches little details even when it seems he’s not listening.

he’s charismatic, although shy, but that’s where his main charm lies.

he laughs like goofy.

if he has the option, he will not wear any shoes. he hates them. but he loves funky socks. they’re the best present someone can actually give to him.

very detail oriented. he will remember what you dressed, what you smelled like, what your hair looked like, and very specific words people said. he quotes them a lot.

he loves making lists??? idk. he wanted me to add that. idk why it’s relevant. he likes order.

he loves ducks. he has a rubber duck collection in his dorm (sorry roommates). 

wanted connections

people he met in LA people he met in atlanta someone with a crush on him (he wouldn’t even imagine) people he’s had/has a crush on (he’s timid when it comes to relationships, he’ll just simp) stoner buddies art hoes comic book nerds  exes  that one ex who was his first everything on his first year friends someone who can’t stand his chill and pseudo self acceptance rants someone who takes advantage of him anything your heart desires and ur mind can imagine