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lipglossanon · 1 year

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The Darkest, Most Depraved of Joys

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{next installment}

Stepbro!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ so minors DNI, stepcest, bully Leon, perv Leon, reader is a bit sassier in this so heads up I guess lol, dirty talk, slight somnophilia, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, strong breeding kink, leaning heavy into the stepcest kink so for real be prepared haha, uhh I think that’s it 🤔

Not proofread; literally banged this out in a few hours this morning 🤣

Title from Monologue by She Wants Revenge

Shoutout to all you lovely readers 😘 😘

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It’s been a few months since your mom remarried some businessman from the city who decided small town life was more his speed. Everything’s going smoothly for the most part. The only exception to your idyllic home life is the absolute terror that is now your stepbrother. Leon is the bane of your existence. He’s older by a few years and he lords it over you every second he gets. And he’s such a jerk to you.

It’s not overt bullying cause Leon doesn’t want to get in trouble, but away from prying eyes he likes to pick on you. He tugs your hair or steals whatever you have in your hand and, just in general, behaves like a complete asshole. What drives you even more crazy is he acts like a complete angel around your mom and his dad so you can’t even say anything or else get scolded.

Your mom laughs and says he’s joking, but it leaves you fuming— especially since you also find Leon ‘the asshole’ Kennedy extremely attractive. Life is so unfair. You’re sick of his bossy attitude and his stupid good looks.

Because of the utter dismissal of your mom, you’ve taken to jotting down your thoughts in a journal. A diary. Whatever.

At first it was to vent about what asinine thing Leon had done to you that day. Him purposefully taking your favorite seat on the couch so you’d have to sit in the recliner. Leon throwing his leg out just as you walk by, sending you stumbling into the wall and him smirking at your angry scowl. Volunteering you when your parents asks for suggestions on who should do dishes or the laundry.

He always seems to follow you randomly throughout the day, taunting you about your choice of wardrobe or how you try to one up him or, sadly, how single you still are. You spin around to argue with him but he just breezes past you, shoving your shoulder as he heads back to his room.

The list goes on and on. But then the venting in your journal starts to meld into a mix of how good he smells (sandalwood and vanilla) and how pretty his hair is even on those overcast drizzly days where it’s more rain than sky outside. Or how nice his arms and hands look doing something so simple as setting the table.

At some point even those diary entries devolve into how hot it would be if maybe Leon got a little physical. Maybe pushing you against the wall when no one’s looking and kisses you until you can’t breathe. Maybe he’d drag you into an empty room and convince you to give him a handy. Maybe even corral you into sucking him off or coaxing you into letting him eat you out until you cry.

After writing some of these you realize that maybe you’re a little more pent up than you thought, but then promptly shrug it off. It’s not like you’re hurting anyone.

Until one Saturday afternoon that is; you think you’re all alone and as you set your journal on your dresser, it’s yanked out of your hands.

Leon stands to your side making you realize the house is empty save you two, and dangling your diary full of unspeakable thoughts just out of your reach.

“Give it back,” you grit out, feeling that familiar rage creeping into your posture.

“Aww, upset sweetheart?” he mocks you, “I’ve always wondered what goes on in that pretty little head of yours.”

“Leon, I’m being serious, give it back.”

He smirks holding the diary up higher as you reach out on your tippy toes, hand going to his shoulder for stability.

“Nah, don’t think I will,” he presses his index and middle finger to your forehead and pushes you until you have to step back or lose your balance and fall.

“Fuck off asshole,” your voice raises, “that’s private shit. Private? I’m sure even you understand what that means”

His smirk drops and his brow furrows in irritation, “Are you insinuating I’m stupid, princess?”

You give him a sickly sweet smile, “Oh a multi syllable word? That’s a big one for ya,” you simper up at him, “do you need to sit down?”

He glares at you before a slow grin spreads across his face making your heartbeat fast.

“Well maybe some light reading might strengthen my vocabulary,” he shakes the book in his hand.

You jump up and try to make a last ditch effort in grabbing it, but he swings his arm up and out of the way.

He clicks his tongue, “Manners, sweetheart.”

You stomp your foot, “God you’re such a dickhead! Give it back!”

He sighs, “Alright,” and goes to hand it back but then yanks it away at the last minute and takes off to his room.

“I’ll have it back to you later! Thanks, princess!!”

You yell at his disappearing figure, feeling rage and embarrassment warring in your chest. Following him, you slam your fists against his locked door. After a few minutes of getting nowhere, you slowly shuffle back into your room. You might as well go dig a hole and lie in it cause anything would be better than Leon reading that damn journal.

You morosely flop face first down onto your bed. You scream into the pillow before rolling over onto your back to stare up at the glow in the dark stars that have been stuck to your ceiling since you were seven. Maybe he won’t read it all. It did start out as a hate journal so maybe after the first few entries he’ll get tired and quit reading. God you hoped so.

Sighing, you raise up and scrub your face until you feel a little less like you want to jump out a window. You scroll mindlessly on your phone, keeping an ear out for any noise coming from Leon’s room. Giving up after a few minutes, you heave a sigh and get out of your bed and make your way next door to Leon’s room.

Rapping your knuckles on the wood, you call out, “Leon, can you give me my diary back, please? I’ll.. do your chores or something.”

You hear the click of the lock being undone and the door swings inward.

“All of my chores?” he crosses his arms and props his shoulder on the doorframe, smirking at you.

You roll your eyes at how stupidly hot he’s being, but bite back your sarcasm, “Yes, all of them. Can I please have my book?”

You feel a spark of something when his eyes drag down your body and back up to your face. Leon grins at you as he straightens up from the doorframe.

Flicking your forehead, he steps back into his room, “Okay, princess. Come in and get your book and then I want you to do something for me.”

You bite your lip to stifle any complaint and rub your head as you step further into his room.

It’s similar to your own, a bed and dresser with a side door that leads to a closet. You frown to yourself; it is pretty sparse considering all the posters and photos you have tacked up on your walls.

You snap out of your thoughts when Leon waves the diary in front of your face.

“You good?”

Blinking, you scowl up at him and grab the book.

“Now I am; what do you want?”

He pouts at you mockingly, “Aww you don’t want to know what I thought about such riveting writing?”

Your heart rabbits in your chest and your palms tingle.

“You didn’t really read it, did you?”

You know your voice wavers and the mocking look on Leon’s face morphs into a sly grin.

“Don’t worry your undying hate for me will remain close to the chest,” he ruffles your hair, “after the first few pages of it, I quit reading.”

“Oh,” you duck your head and chew on your bottom lip.

Looking up again, you give him a shy smile, “Thanks, Leon.”

He stops ruffling your hair and drags his hand down to the side of your neck. He rubs his thumb over the column of your throat.

“I wouldn’t thank me just yet, sweetheart,” he presses you to step backwards until your back is touching the door.

You put your hands up on his broad chest, still clasping your diary, “W-what’re you—“

“Think this was about 20 pages in, right?” he muses, blue eyes darkening as he dips his head down to be closer to you.

The hand not gripping your neck comes up to cup your jaw, tilting your head back.

“Just let me,” he breathes out, the motion causing his lips to brush up against yours.

Your eyelashes flutter closed as he presses a searing kiss to your parted lips. He groans and kisses you harder, his body pressing yours against the door completely. You try to push him away but to no avail; his strength outmatches yours easily.

Leon moves his hands down to grab your hips, holding you still while he molds himself against you. Your hands are trapped between your chests. You can feel his dick beginning to chub in his sweats.

"Damn," he murmurs as he pulls away, grinding against you.

A soft gasp passes your lips, which he zeroes in on. Leon presses against you more firmly before slotting your mouths together. You try to push against him but can feel your resolve weakening under the constant barrage of wet, tongue filled kisses. Arousal pulses in your clit with every wet press of his mouth.

You’re finally able to pull away from his hungry mouth.

“What’re we even doing?” you gasp as his mouth finds a sweet spot on your neck.

“Just trying to make my little sis’s dirty dreams come true,” he snarks, before taking your mouth once again.

You moan, letting yourself be swept up in the sensations Leon’s bringing out in your body.

He kisses you slow and deep, tongues tasting each other before pulling away to suck on your bottom lip. He slides a hand along your thigh, caressing softly as his fingers drift closer to the apex of your thighs. You’re so wet already just from kissing him. You cant your hips towards him and his fingers brush against the zipper on your jeans.

A loud door slam pulls you both apart; you hear your mom call your name from downstairs.

Leon tugs you away from the door and into his chest. He spins you around and pulls the door open for you.

“We’ll be picking this up later, ‘kay princess?”

He smacks your ass as you cross the threshold back into the hall. You whirl around but he’s already closed the door in your face. You look down at the diary in your hand, glaring at the inanimate object.

“Unbelievable,” you mutter out loud.

Walking to your room, you toss the book onto your bed and head downstairs to meet up with your mom.

:::::::::::

The rest of the afternoon passes by pretty quickly. Luckily for you, Leon keeps to himself so you don’t see much of him until dinner. Your mom is very adamant about having dinner together as a family.

“It builds those familial bonds, honey,” she pats your cheek when you try to weasel out of it.

So here you are, sitting across from Leon, trying to eat with him staring a hole into you. When you reach for your glass to take a sip, you raise your eyebrows at him.

He smirks at you then glances at your parents; seeing that they’re not paying attention to you two, he brings his hand up to his mouth and makes a ‘V’ with his fingers and thrusts his tongue between them a few times.

You press your thighs together and glare at him. You flip him off and that’s when your mom gasps.

“No vulgar displays at the table!”

You shoot her a disbelieving look, “What? But he started it!”

“Well, that goes for both of you then,” your stepdad cuts in, “behave you two.”

You take a deep breathe and let it out slowly.

Leon laughs, “Just joking around, dad.”

Your mom smiles at him, “I’m so glad you two get along so well.”

Leon catches your eye and gives you the fakest smile, “Of course, that’s what a big brother’s for, right?”

You roll your eyes and go back to your plate.

Pushing around the food, you look over at your mom, “May I be excused?”

“Sure, honey. Just take your dishes into the kitchen.”

Nodding, you gather up everything and head into the kitchen. You scrape what food is left off in the trash and set the dishes in the sink.

You feel a line of heat press against your back, pushing your hips into the countertop. You see Leon’s hands on either side of you, holding onto the counter’s edge; his thick biceps flex as he ducks down to mouth at your neck.

“So mean to me, princess.”

Goosebumps race across your neck and down your arms from his moist breath on the shell of your ear.

“What would they think of you wanting me to stick my cock in your wet little pussy and stretch you out, hmm?”

A bolt of heat flares in your stomach, nipples hardening as you stifle a whine.

“Leon,” you whisper, “shut up, you’re gonna get us in trouble.”

He chuckles into your neck and drops a kiss on your jaw.

“What? It’s the truth; your little diary will just confirm it.”

You press back against him trying to get him to move but he just pushes against you harder, grinding his half hard dick against your ass.

“Don’t be that way,” he coos, one hand slipping from the counter to cup your hot pussy.

You gasp and toss your head back, “We’re gonna get caught.”

“So?” his voice is low and rough in your ear, “don’t want me to play with this needy cunt? C’mon baby thought that’s what you wanted?”

Using the last of your self control, you elbow him in the ribs and duck around his lax arm. You run from the kitchen to the stairs, aiming to lock yourself in your bedroom. You make it to the upper landing before Leon wraps his arms around your waist.

You squeal when he jerks you back to his hard chest.

“You little brat,” he hisses, “I’m gonna—“

“No roughhousing near the stairs,” his dad calls out from the bottom, looking up at you two.

Leon gives him a sheepish smile and drops his hold on you, “Of course, pops.”

You take this distraction for what it is and rush off to your room, shutting and locking the door. Listening, you hear Leon pause outside your door.

He lightly taps the wood, “This isn’t over, sweetheart.”

You shiver, feeling hot at those words. You hear him make his way over to his room and shut the door. Walking over, you collapse down onto your bed with a sigh. What have you gotten yourself into?

Later in the evening, you make your way to the bathroom to brush your teeth and get ready for bed. When you return to your room, it slips your mind to lock your door for the night. Tiredly, you slip under your cool sheets and drift off.

You’re slowly coming to, still half asleep. You question what woke you up and right as your about to be pulled back under, you feel a pair of hands caressing and pinching your nipples over your thin sleep shirt.

“So pretty. Pretty girl don’t even know what you do to me. These fuckin tits just begging me to play with’em.”

You hear a low voice muttering next to you. You struggle to remember who else would even be here but that’s wiped from your mind as the hands keep teasing and tugging your sensitive buds.

“God I wanna suck’em. Leave bruises all over you.”

Leon your mind supplies. You forgot to lock your door earlier.

“Always walking around the house wearing those little outfits. Practically begging me to just bend you over and fuck you til you can’t think.”

You feel a warm hand smooth up your ribs before cupping one of your breasts while the other softly pinches your nipples.

“Wha-“ you groggily reach a hand back to the body behind you.

“Shh, princess,” his low voice rumbles in your ear, “let me make you feel good.”

You sigh out in response and let him snake his other hand underneath the side you’re laying on to grope your other breast. Your nipples harden to the gentle strokes of his fingers circling the sensitive buds.

You arch your hips back to grind against the bulge pressing into your ass. Your pussy starts to leak slick into your panties.

He groans aloud and slips his hands underneath your shirt to glide fingertips across heated skin. You sluggishly shrug out of the shirt with his help. Immediately afterwards, he grabs each breast in his hands and squeezes, the fat dimpling between his fingers.

“Fuck, that’s— you’re so good,” he presses wet, open mouthed kisses on your neck and shoulder before scraping his teeth along your shoulder blade.

“C’mon, roll over for me, sweetheart.”

Your eyes are heavy with sleep but you can blearily make out his dark eyes as they drink in your half naked body.

“Gonna let me eat this pretty pussy, baby?”

You’re so tired you can only let out a low whine.

“I know, sucha sweet girl when you wanna be,” he kisses your cheek then your lips, dipping his tongue into your mouth for a quick taste before pulling away to lie between your spread legs.

He eases your panties down your legs and tosses them to the floor. You can feel how wet you are when the cool air of the room hits your pussy.

“Can’t believe you wrote all that shit down where anyone can read it,” he eyes your leaking slit hungrily before meeting your gaze with blown out pupils, “fuckin made me so hard, baby.“

“Leon,” you whisper, voice cracking in pleasure, “‘m sorry.”

He presses soft kisses to your thighs, bypassing where you most want his mouth, laying soft open mouthed kisses to your hips and lower abdomen.

“Why’re you apologizing? I think it’s hot that y’need your big brother to take care of this sopping wet pussy,” his hands are softly running up your legs, massaging the skin randomly.

“We can’t,” you whisper, pressing your hands against his head to keep him from moving, “it’s dirty. And plus don’t you have a girlfriend?”

He growls at you, “So? I’ll dump her tomorrow once I have a taste of this sweet little cunt. And it might be dirty but doesn’t it get you wet, princess? I read all about your filthy thoughts of me eating you out.”

He grins at you from between your thighs, eyes hungry, “You can even be my new girlfriend.”

Leon finally presses his lips to your mound, “And now I’m gonna eat out my girl’s pussy.”

You sigh out in pleasure as he places sloppy kisses to your clit over and over making your legs twitch. Your hands come down to tangle in his messy hair.

“Leon,” you moan, “please.”

Ignoring your urging to go lower, he laves his tongue across your pussy lips. He pulls back just to press his pouty mouth softly against the hood of your clit making you arch your hips upward with a moan.

His tongue darts out to lap at your sensitive bud before trailing down to your leaking hole. He teases his tongue around the entrance, dipping inside briefly, before pulling away to messily kiss your clit. Your thigh muscles jump underneath the palm of his broad hands. He continues to drag his lips across your aching clit, giving it soft kisses repeatedly.

“Fuck, so good,” you squeeze your eyes shut, “please Leon I need more than just kisses.”

“Nah,” his eyes darken even further, lips ticked into a mean smile, “just wanna give my girl’s pretty pussy lotsa love. She only needs my kisses.”

He presses another sloppy, spit filled kiss onto your swollen clit.

You whine pitifully, “Such a tease.”

“Oh I’m the tease?” He pulls away from your slick cunt leaving you gasping out in disagreement, “You’ve been teasing me for the longest time, princess. Wearing those slutty shorts, showing off those fucking thighs of yours.”

He shucks his sleep wear off until he’s only in his boxers. You can see a prominent wet spot where the head of his dick has been pressing against the fabric. You whine again, hands scrabbling at his forearms.

“‘m sorry Leon. I’ll be good, promise,” you pull on his arms, trying to make him move up closer, “I didn’t mean to tease.”

“I bet you didn’t,” his voice is rough, deeper than you’ve heard before, “those flimsy little tops showing me your hard fucking nipples.”

You watch as that mean expression comes back into his face. His thumb presses down on your swollen clit making you gasp in pleasure.

“But I guess that’s what slutty little sisters do to their big brothers, huh? You were just trying to get me hard so I can fuck you good later, right?”

You feel tears pooling in your waterline.

“Leon,” you hiccup, “please.”

His expression softens.

“Hey don’t worry,” he moves up to cage your head between his forearms, bent so your faces are nearly pressed together, “I’m gonna take care of you.”

You keep eye contact as you ask, “Really?”

“Yeah,” he gives you a soft look. “Gonna make you feel good.”

You bite your lip and run your hands through his hair, “Yeah? Gonna show me stepbrother’s big cock?”

“Fucking hell,” his hips grind down onto yours. You feel the scratchy material of his boxers press against your wet cunt as the heat of his cock drags across your pussy lips.

“I’m gonna fuck you hard, baby. Hope you’re ready for it,” he kisses you, thrusting his tongue into your open mouth.

Leon presses you on your back; he brings your knees up to your chest and pushes you down into the bed as he drags his thick cock across your sensitive clit.

You look down and watch as his hand wraps around his dick, pulling back the foreskin to smack at your clit and leaky hole.

“Think I’ll fit, princess?”

He’s so big but that just makes you arch your hips up, angling to get his tip to slide into your clenching hole.

“I don’t know,” you whisper, eyes watching as he glides his cock through your wet folds to tap your clit again.

“Guess we’re about to find out,” he grins.

You both moan when he presses the fat tip inside and sinks into your tight, wet cunt.

He gives you a second to adjust before pulling halfway out to slide back in your hot pussy.

“Fuck,” you pant.

Your hole stretches to accommodate the thick cock fucking into you.

“That’s it,” Leon’s raspy voice washes over your ears, “you can take it.”

You whine, “Too big.”

Your hands claw at the sheets, trying to gain purchase. Your cunt drips slick all over the bed while Leon stretches you.. filling you up so good. Sweat begins to bead up around your hairline making your hair stick to your skin.

You can’t stop clenching down on the thick length spearing you open.

“Please move,” you choke out, lifting your head to peer up at Leon’s dark stare.

“You can use your manners,” he chuckles, “aren’t you full of surprises.”

Your eyes flutter as Leon pulls out to slowly slide back in. You moan unabashedly as you’re fucked slow and deep.

“Please, please,” you chant, “so good. Feels so good.”

Leon’s hands grip your hips, fingertips digging in, “Don’t you make a pretty sight. Such a lovely hole.”

You whine as arousal pulses through you at those words.

“Please, I want more.”

“Yeah?”

“Please,” you mewl, as his thumb starts to circle your clit.

“Mmm so fucking sweet,” he moans, using one hand to hold your hips down and the other pinches and strokes your clit.

“Gonna breed this pretty little cunt,” Leon grunts as he thrusts harder into your pussy walls clamping down onto his thick cock.

“Leon,” you moan out, nails biting into his shoulders.

He grins down at you, “Yeah you like that sweetheart? Yeah you do. Want me to put a fat load deep in this tight pussy.”

Punched out moans are all you can manage as his hips piston harder into you, the wet squelching between your thighs getting louder.

“Shit so fuckin good f’me,” Leon hikes your legs up higher onto his shoulders, “gonna cum in you baby. S’what big brothers do, right?”

“What?” You choke out, feeling the tip of Leon’s dick nail that spongy spot inside you repeatedly.

“Yeah, wouldn’t dream about coming in my girlfriend, but you? My little sister? It’s the only thing to do,” his mouth drops hot, tongue filled kisses on your bite covered neck.

“Ohh,” you keen high in your throat, feeling your walls squeezing onto Leon even harder. Just the thought of him cumming inside you has your clit throbbing.

“Baby fuck yeah only wanna cum in you,” Leon slurrs, “you’ll let me right? Let your big brother fill you up? Show you how much I care.”

“Yes yes yes. Please! Want it so bad Leon.”

You’re drooling from how good he’s fucking your pussy. His fat cock bullies into your cunt on every thrust, spreading you open and filling you up.

“So wet and tight," he grits out, voice rough.

You toss your head back in pleasure, "Fuck, Leon. Your cock feels so good."

You can’t stop your hips from meeting each one of his powerful thrusts. Your pussy clenches around his dick like a vice.

He moans, "That's it, take it, such a sweet girl."

"More, please,” you pant, pushing sweaty hair away from your face.

He bottoms out in your cunt to kiss you sloppily.

“You on some kinda birth control, princess?”

You are, but a dark pulse of arousal makes you want to see what he’d do if you said no.

So, you shake your head no, “I’m not on any.”

His hips stutter and buck deeper into your squelching pussy.

“Fuck,” he’s panting, pupils blown, “really? Fucking hell. I need to—“

He moans and grinds so deep you can feel his tip kiss your cervix.

“S’okay that I don’t pull out?” He slips his cock out and slams back into your pussy, making your eyes roll back.

“But you gotta promise me not to get pregnant, yeah? Otherwise I can’t cum all in this needy little pussy. Promise me, baby and I’ll give you a nice creampie.”

Whining, your nails scratch and claw at his shoulders as Leon rails you into the bed; your bed frame is rattling and the mattress squeaking. You’ve never been more grateful your parents slept on the complete opposite side of the house.

“Promise, promise,” you gasp out.

“Hmm yeah, okay then baby. I’ll fuck you raw and cum in this little pussy. God damn,” he groans, thrusting harder, “fuck, don’t even care if I knock you up. So fucking hot.”

He fingers pick up their speed, flicking and pinching your clit as he hammers into that spongy spot in your pussy.

“I-I’m gonna cum. Leon, you’re gonna make me cum,” you mewl.

“Yeah gonna cum on your big brother’s cock?” He kisses you, tongue fucking into your mouth.

“Uh huh, yeah gonna cum all over my big brothers cock,” you whine, “oh fuck, Leon! You’re gonna have to cover my mouth.”

He grins down at you, hips pistoning harder into your pussy.

“Gonna get loud, baby? Fuck that’s so hot. C’mon cum all over my cock.”

Your eyes roll back as your thighs shake with the force of your orgasm. Leon clamps a hand over your mouth as you scream, pussy gushing and clenching around his hard cock.

“That’s it, fuck me, princess. Best pussy I’ve ever had,” he groans, “gonna cum, gonna cream this little cunt.”

He bites down on your shoulder as his dick buries itself deep in your pussy. Your still clenching walls milk his cock until you can’t feel his cum spilling inside anymore.

“God damn,” he pulls back from your neck, “sorry bout the bruise, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes, “S’fine.”

He slips out of your cunt with a low hiss. Greedily, he watches as his cum drips out onto the sheets.

“Mmm so hot, baby,” he rubs the cum into your pussy lips, “do I need to get you the morning after pill?”

You laugh at him, “No, I’m on birth control.”

You laugh even harder at his scandalized expression.

“You serious?”

You nod, still giggling, “Yeah.”

He huffs a laugh and cages you in against your bed; he gives you the filthiest kiss and when he pulls away there’s a string of saliva connecting your lips.

“Fucking tease,” he drags his half hard cock over your sensitive pussy, “just means I can cum in you as much as I want though, princess.”

You moan and pull him into another hungry kiss. The kisses turn wet and sloppy, spit dripping down your chins as he sucks on your tongue.

He pulls back to take in your hazy eyes, “Give me a few and we can go again.”

You run your hands through his messy hair, “Mmm sounds good to me.”

#Stepbro!leon s kennedy #Stepbro Leon S Kennedy #Stepbro!leon #Stepbro!leon s kennedy x fem!reader #Stepbro!leon s kennedy x you #Stepcest #leon s kennedy smut #leon s Kennedy x fem!reader #Fem!reader #resident evil smut #lipglossanon

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h9rd-t6-miss · 2 months

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God hunter the parenting is just... Something deeply special.

It starts out loud, like all of Alfabusa and Ogre Poppenang's work does. Chapter one involves COCK-thorpe jokes and a jacket covered in wooden stakes. It involves jokes about DMT being a formidable defense against vampires and fortifying a picnic table. When Ogre Poppenang get loud, they get so, so incredibly loud.

And if that were all there was in these shows, they would be fourty minute entertainments that leave your mind as soon as you're done laughing at it.

But... There's more.

You catch glimpses of it here and there if you're not looking for it. Did the red and blue one just talk about genuine self-reflection in between cock jokes? Maybe. Maybe you misheard it. Does the short-shorts wearing loud one actually have honest warnings in between the mad yelling? Surely you imagined any depth to these characters, they're yelling about blenders!

But then. The story does something that it feels, strange, in today's modern media.

In between the jokes and the noise and the wonky animation... The stakes stay the same. They're always in dire danger, no matter the tone of the setting.

Even when he's on stilts clambering over a yard and looking absurd, Kitten is absolutely in danger of dying at every moment. Even when Kevin is yelling about magic vampire wizard powers, he is absolutely not kidding and will utilize them to kill. Even when Big D is making a god-awful concotion in a blender filled with nonsesne ingredients, it serves a legitamite purpose towards the family.

And the stories give everything SPACE. Space to breathe, to laugh, to cry, to be horrified. The lives of these people are horrifying and dangerous and absurd but they are still absolutely alive, not just cartoons.

You find yourself invested in the old relationship of Grimal, the overblown hyper weeabo and Kitten, the level headed hunter who still never takes off a blue hoodie and sky mask. You find yourself deeply touched by how much the literal and exact Door cares for his son, even if exposing him to the Hunter's lifestyle and indeed, Door's lifestyle, probably isnt the greatest thing.

You can really feel that the Hunters are true, three dimensional people that are written with so much care and expertise, and that their voice actors understand the characters at such a fundamental level.

You also begin to love the overall writing, where the authors show their true and incredible skill at balancing the zany humor of the WoD with the name of the setting, a world full of real darkness, where the shadows in the alley really do hold unspeakable terrors.

Not every joke will land, and the boldness of the caricatures will drive some people off. But there is so much more to this studio than anything I've seen in a long time, and for those who will stick around, prepare to fall in love with everything as much as the creators have.

Also, if you just want MORE of the absurd and delightful humor, Half-life:Zero Viscosity deserves all of the praise of HL:VRAI and MORE

#ogre poppenang #hunter the parenting #htp #wod #world of darkness

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cemeterything · 4 months

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i watched the terror and i really fucking loved hickey. i think i loved his final talk with crozier the most. he was so deluded. so full of himself. so accomplished (in his head). the confidence of this man to do the most unspeakable things without a flinch of guilt gives me life. i loved how he died of his own hubris too. did i mention i love him?

he really is such a lovable scamp (unrepentant murderer who killed so many people)

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estrella-etoile · 7 months

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Two Views of the Cave of Ten Thousand Gods

Unpopular opinion, probably, but... Mu Qing and Feng Xin had a point when they went to extremes to try to get Xie Lian away from Hua Cheng

even if they were wrong.

Let's look at this from FengQing's POV. The last time they saw the crown prince, he was fighting with an overpowered ghost king completely obsessed with breaking (and ultimately owning) him. White No-face genuinely believed that he was doing XL a favor with his torture. That the downfall of Xianle was all for the greater good, and that he had plans for Xie Lian related to it all. Maybe they didn't realize it was so that XL could become the perfect protege, but the unhealthy obsession was apparent.

Fast forward to now.

Xie Lian is back. He's suffered from 800 years of destitution and humiliation. He speaks casually of unspeakable pain and torture, and suddenly there's this other overpowered ghost king that brought a reign of terror to the Heavens.

And that ghost king also seems to be around (and extremely affectionate with) the prince. Hua Cheng brought the same terror to Heavenly Officials that White No-Face brought to Xianle (by design as a punishment for Heaven looking the other way...) So here XL is, back, speaking about sleeping in the same bed as Hua Cheng with a shrug. Holding his hand and snuggling up to him. Looking desperate and pained any time they are separated.

And then? As they're trekking up Tong'lu attempting to thwart a new ghost king's birth, they come across a cave full of beautifully carved statues of Xie Lian. From the God Pleasing Crown Prince to the fallen god to the drunken crying exile and finally... to the god suffering the effects of the Land of the Tender. To any but Hua Cheng and Xie Lian (and especially to Feng Xin and Mu Qing), this obsession looks dangerous. After all, was White No-face's obsession different? Maybe it wasn't, and suddenly both of them are asking the (valid) question, is this all happening again? Did Xie Lian truly get broken this time? Is he walking into the life of a kept man and sex slave of a depraved and evil ghost king who was about to achieve the pinnacle of his obsession?

So they acted the way that they thought they needed to, to get Xie Lian away from the threat. Because even after 800 years of ignoring their shame, their loyalty had never completely eroded away.

The difference between White No-face and Hua Cheng is night and day to pretty much anyone paying attention. But the thing is, FengQing didn't have the view that the readers had, didn't even have the view that Pei Ming and Shi Qingxuan had honestly. They didn't see the quiet moments where Xie Lian and Hua Cheng just basked in their little world. Didn't watch Xie Lian giggle at some joke that Hua Cheng told.

They didn't pay attention to Xie Lian, or to the fact that San Lang never tried to force Xie Lian into a mask (which WNF literally did). True, Xie Lian spent a ton of time trying to understand why Hua Cheng had chosen him, but he never so much as had his hackles raised when Hua Cheng was around.

Ironic that it made them strip Xie Lian of agency to "rescue" him.

By Tong'lu, Xie Lian was as obsessed and in love with Hua Cheng as vice versa. It meant the Cave of Ten Thousand Gods was a beautiful revelation. Ah, so this is why my perfect and beautiful and sexy and clever and best friend Ghost King chose me. And I feel so lucky that he did.

It's not something that Feng Xin or Mu Qing are equipped to understand yet. Because Xie Lian is no longer the naive ascended-too-early god pleasing prince. The hardships that he suffered in those intervening centuries made him stronger, instead of weaker.

By the time they finally defeated White No-face, and certainly in the year where Xie Lian waited, I think both of them finally had a good idea of the person he had become. I don't think either will ever be truly comfortable with Hua Cheng (which? fair. also, kinda deserved.), but they definitely can tell that Xie Lian is happy, and are happy for him in turn.

#hualian meta #hualian #tgcf meta #mu qing and feng xin kind of had a point #even though they were wrong #cave of ten thousand gods #tgcf #heaven official's blessing #xie lian #hua cheng

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doctorgerth · 2 years

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hello !!! i'm new to the blog wiggle wiggle i have yet to go through every asks but i love what i've read so far <3 would it be possible to have buggy, smoker and sanji catching their s/o staring at them from afar looking like they're /melting/ with a lovestruck look ? i don't know i just think it's so cute when you see one character looking at the others looking like they're just. melting with love. thanks ! i hope you vibe with the request haha but don't force yourself if you don't <:) -B☆

a/n: I AM OBSESSED WITH THIS IDEA DONT WORRY!! I’m a sucker for the longing stares and actually had some HCs in mind for this already so it was perfect to be able to write something for it!! Thank you for this wonderful request and I hope it’s okay they turned into lil blurbs instead of headcanons! Oh and welcome to my blog, happy to have you!! 🥰

featuring: Buggy, Smoker, Sanji x GN!Reader

warnings: none

CATCHING LOVESTRUCK STARE FROM S/O

BUGGY —

Call it what you want, but Buggy’s eyes always seem to find you even in a crowd. Perhaps his eyes are always on you, ensuring your safety and presence. He’s usually the one to keep a brief stare, but this time, his eyes find yours already looking his way across the sea of people, making him stop in his tracks as he catches the look in your eyes; soft and full of tenderness. He’s amazed at your capability to make time stop, gravity seemingly nonexistent with just a look from you. How much time has passed? Are his feet even on the ground? He feels like he’s floating, swimming in your irises even from this distance, right through the countless people separating the two of you. They all seem to disappear, because you look at him like he’s the only person in this world, like he’s the only person for you. His body is buzzing, mind melting and heart thumping to beat right out of his chest because he can feel and see the love you have for him. A dizzying combination of exhilaration and terror overtakes him because he knows this is the same look he offers you when you catch him staring. All at once he knows, he’s helplessly in love with you and he can’t believe you feel the same.

SMOKER —

Smoker has a certain intuition when it comes to you, so he knows who the pair of eyes burning into his side belong to. What he isn’t expecting upon turning around to meet your gaze is the endearing look in your eyes and dopey smile on your face, head in your hands like staring off in a day dream. That look remains for a fraction of a second, long enough to embed in his mind, a permanent mental image of your eyes reflecting an unspeakable adoration that reveals love enough for a lifetime. You’re quick to turn away in embarrassment, trying your hardest to play it cool as you occupy yourself with something else, but little do you know, Smoker is struggling just as bad to regain his composure; feeling his neck, cheeks, and the tips of his ears burning red hot from the brief exchange. How can he possibly focus on his task now that his heart is racing, mind flooded with images of you looking at him like he holds your entire world? Are you aware that you hold his? A small smile tugs at his lips, and when he looks up, not missing your side-eyed glance, he hopes you can feel him look at you with just as much devotion.

SANJI —

Sanji is notorious for offering you longing, lovestruck stares, so being the one to catch you looking at him this time leaves him a bit disoriented. It’s nothing new for you to join Sanji in the kitchen, sitting at the table or along the counter as you watch him prepare breakfast for the crew in the early hours of the morning. What is new, is the way he can feel you staring, not at his hands as they chop at the ingredients, or the sizzling food in the pan; no, he feels your eyes on his side profile. Does he have something on his face? Looking across his shoulder to meet your stare, he feels his breath catch in his throat when he witnesses the look in your eyes, the look you don’t even try to hide. Eyes glimmering with endearment, like staring right into Sanji’s soul and loving what you see there; each twinkle of your eyes planting parts of you within him that make home so easily, as if these pieces of you were always meant to be with him. The heat in his cheeks only burns brighter when you smile, your eyes doing the same as you whisper a confession of love that’s both new and familiar, something he’ll never get used to nor get tired of hearing: “I just really love you, Sanji.”

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epireancrusade · 6 months

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After the deafening noise of the firefight, the following silence felt unnatural. Skel slowly pushed himself up from the floor where he had thrown himself when all hell had broken loose. Two lasguns firing on full auto had turned the cistern's tight utility hallway into a slaughterhouse. Harkon was dead. He had taken the Sacred band's warriors first salvo to his chest and as a result he had been almost sawed in half by hailing fire from six autoguns.

After the deafening noise of the firefight, the following silence felt unnatural. Skel slowly pushed himself up from the floor where he had thrown himself when all hell had broken loose. Harkon was dead. He had taken the first salvo to his chest and as a result been almost sawed in half. However, his body had covered Skel and Jessup who had opened up almost immediately. Two lasguns firing on full auto had turned the cistern's tight utility hallway into a slaughterhouse. Six Sacred band soldiers were shred to pieces and were laying all around the floor and in the the pool, it’s water slowly turning red.

”What a fucking shitshow!” Skel exlaimed, after making sure nothing was moving in the room anymore. ”I thought this area was supposed to be cleared already”, muttered Jessup, slowly descending the stairs, weapon ready. ”Yeah, well, it wasn’t”, responded Skel, his voice filled with sarcasm. ”Put the glory boys in charge, and they’ll sweep through the enemy lines, straight to the top! But they sure as shit don’t care much about the dirty work. No, that belongs to the lowly shits of the infantry! Crawling through these Emperor-damned hallways and sewer tunnels, every corner hiding these fanatic bastards, all too happy to cut your throat from one ear to another!” Jessup grinned dryly. ”Well, that’s Imperial guard for you! Only in death does duty end and so on. What were these fuckers even doing down here?” Skel walked on the lip of the pool. ”I don’t know… but look at those two in the water. Not your regular jarheads. you saw the masks?” Skel prodded one of the floating bodies with his bayonet, turning the face-down laying body around. Golden pins on the collar proved her to be a higher ranking officer, and the yellow ceremonial mask on her face was filled with symbols that made Skel’s stomach turn. He pushed body away from him, grimacing. ”Shit. Yep. One of those damn chosen ones. The priests, you know? Like the ones we saw in …” ”Yeah, I was in the Hab 90 too, remember?” Jessup waved her hand. ”I saw what those bastards can do. What were they up to in here?”

Skel stepped in the water, quietly cursing as the cold water soaked through his trousers. ”What are you doing?” asked Jessup, but Skel didn’t answer. He raised his lasgun, pointing in the darkness of the opposite wall. ”There. There is something in there”, he said, stepping forward. ”Wait, Skel. I think we should call the backup. If there were priests here, it can only mean that there was something warp-related going on…” she trailed off. Skel had fished his flaslight from his pocket and his light beam was aimed at the back of the room. He only used the light for a second, but even that short glimpse filled both guardsmen with unspeakable terror. The whole back wall of the room was filled with unholy markings. The twisted glyphs were almost like living things, and even a glimpse at them made Skel feel nauseous. He turned the light off. ”C’mon, Skel”, Jessup pleaded. ”Let’s get the hell out of here. This is bad…” Skel lifted his hand as a signal for quiet. The still water in the pool had just…moved. There was something under the surface. Skel took a step back, his face turning pale in fear. ”T-there is something in the water…” he said, taking another step backwards, rising his lasgun.

Everything happened so quickly. One moment Skel was standing in the water, finger on the trigger, and then he was no more. Only a widening circle in the water on the spot he had been standing on. ”Skel? Skel!” Jessup scanned the surface through her sight. This was all going down the shitter and fast. Images from Hab 90 all those yeasr ago in Kissia flashed through her mind with terror-fuelled speed. All that blood. The warp-magic peeling off the faces of her comrades. The piles of dead, warping, turning to something… ”Skel! Come on! Please…” Jessup was losing her nerve, and fast. Skel was her best friend, but the terror was quickly overriding all of her brain funcions. ”Fuck this… Fuck this. I’m going, Skel! I’m going to get h…” and the surface broke.

The thump of the frag grenade going off was regocnizable even when it was muffled by a copious amount of water. Reflexibly Jessupp threw herself to the bloody floor, just as Skel flew over her head, followed by a stream of bloody water and klumps of something meaty. All of a sudden a terrible stench filled the air, making Jessup gag. She struggled upright, only glancing at the water, where something was slowly pushing itself up from the water. Only a glimpse to it’s many eyes was enough for Jessup to empty her bladder. She scrambled towards stairs, almost tripping over Skel. His eyes were open. He was breathing. His right arm was missing and his clothes were torn. Blood was flowing freely from the stum as well as from the several smaller wounds across the right side of Skel’s body. Jessup wasn’t gone too far to not recognize Shrapnel wounds. ”G-got the bastard…” Skel was muttering. Blood was flwing out from his mouth and ears as well. ”W-whit the…fr-frag. Got my hand…” Jessup readjusted. Her wounded friend became a focus point, something to concentrate, something to do to keep the madness away. She grabbed Skel’s left hand, making him squel from pain. By the emperor, he was falling apart. ”Fucking leave me!” Skel shouted, gritting his teeth. ”G-give me your gun and I… I’ll hold th-the…”

Jessup didn’t say anything. She simply hoisted Skel up over her shoulders. No time to tend his wounds. They would be long dead before he would bleed out down here. Skel screamed, he was in agony. Jessup stole a quick glance at the pool, saw how tentacle-like appendixes were pushing towards her, and finally gave up to fear. Screaming, she ran towards the stairs and then up. A screeching sound came from below, like a scream of a thousand souls in agony. Jessup was weeping, reciting the litany of emperor’s protection between sobs. The stairs seemed to last forever. She could feel the cold grip of fear in between her shoulders. At any moment those unnatural, warp-formed tentacles would grab her ankle, and pull her and Skel down, to a fate worse than death. How many steps left?

Invasion of Morentos VII was a success, but the events in the shrine-hive of Evelior soured the mood across the crusade fleet. The holy shrine of St.Evel, the ecclesiarchy temples and the monuments had to be destroyed by an orbital bombardment. The Sacred band, realizing they were losing their grip on the world, had conducted dark rituals all accross the holy city, infesting the city’s water supply with warp-born horrors. It was a small wonder that the imperial forces were able to retreat before it was too late, thanks to a duo of soldiers, who were able to escape after wthessing the birth of one of the creatures. After a short period in the inquisitioral custody the two guardsmen were released and trasferred to the Kissian 78th. Almost all of the Kissian units who had suffered through the ”horror” during the Noctis aeterna had proven to be quite resilient to the warp-taint, and the inquisition officials decided that further purges for the units involved was not necessary. Morentos VII was liberated, and the construction of a new shrine-hive was commissioned. The crusade headquarters could only find solace in the fact that the whole world was not lost to the taint.

A few billion more dead, a shrine destroyed, another world brought back to the imperial hold. The Epirean crusade kept grounding on…

#warhammer 40k #epirean crusade #astra militarum #imperial guard #kissian people's guard #warhammer 40 000 #grimdark #warhammer 40000 #warhammer story

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suuho · 1 year

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when i say beyond evil is above all a love story, it is directly tied to the motive of devotion as absolution. juwon is such a tragic character because all his life, he had to live as the ghost of a person, as the only memory of a woman that he is convinced died because of him, as a husk for all the expectations his father has bestowed upon him and, of course, as the mirror of his mother that he lost when he was too young to fully comprehend such a loss. juwon is a constant, walking parade of guilt and all that guilt sticks to him and has made him cold and unattainable and chock-full of a love he has no idea where to put, an abstract sense of it because he grew up in a world that was rich with the absence of love, not the abundance of it. all he has ever known is violence and loneliness and out of that a rigid sense of justice was born. it had to go somewhere, after all. all of it. then, naturally, there is dongsik who is the picture of devotion, whose entire life has been painted in broad strokes of an abundance of love he could never put anywhere. who is declared guilty despite his innocence, and yet hasn’t let that label consume him the way it has fostered inside of juwon for twenty-seven long, long years. instead, dongsik’s devotion to his sister, to his community, and his family, has absolved him. and that is how and when juwon understands that he can be absolved, too, that this burden he’s been carrying, this unspeakable terror, can vanish. and that is why he kneels down in the rain, another symbol of absolution, and says to dongsik, this man who can be his savior, who can absolve him of all his guilt, that he will take the fall in his place, he will go to hell for him, he will be tormented. the rain washes him clean, as has dongsik’s devotion to his sister done before. just now, it is juwon’s devotion to dongsik that absolves him of his perceived-sins and wrongs and makes him believe again.

#what an insanely well done full circle moment #also yes including the gay part too it is juwon’s love for another man that absolves him #so he can let go of those repressed parts too #beyond evil #kaz talks #GOOD NIGHT DOES THIS EVEN MAKE SENSE

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causeimhappinesss · 25 days

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His baby mama, part 2 (Corey Cunningham x reader)

PART 1

Pairing: Corey Cunningham x reader Warning: kidnapping Disclaimer: English isn’t my native language (I’m french), so you can correct me if you spot some mistakes :) + it’s gonna be a short story, so don’t seek a full development as you would in a novel

---

When you open your eyes, a thick veil of unconsciousness dissipates, revealing a dark room. Your head spins and your limbs feel numb with a strange sensation that sends shivers through your whole body, amplified by the coolness of the surroundings. Suddenly, you realize you’re in your basement. You try to move, but your movements are hindered by tight restraints that hold you to a dusty old mattress in a sea of forgotten boxes. Your hands are tied with a thick rope. Actually, it’s not tight enough, you can move a little, but it’s still reassuring.

What happened...?

Memories of yesterday come flooding back. Terror wells up inside you, a venomous snake wrapping itself around your heart and choking you. Why are you here? Where’s your baby? Panic overtakes you as you frantically search for answers, your eyes feverishly searching the dark corners of the cellar for a clue, a way out.

And then, like lightning in a storm, you see it. Your daughter, your precious treasure, sleeping peacefully in her crib beside you, oblivious to the threat in the air. A sigh of relief escapes your lips, though your anguish continues to clench your throat and twist your stomach. You lean over her and slide a hand over her soft tummy. She seems to be doing just fine. He hasn’t hurt her. More surprisingly, he didn’t kill you... That’s not Michael Myers modus operandi. So�� why are you here? What does he want with you? The questions swirl around in your head and gnaw at your insides, without you understanding what’s going on.

Your trembling fingers slowly move up to touch the soft skin of her little hand. A shiver runs down your spine as you realize how vulnerable she is, how you’re both at the mercy of the surrounding darkness... At the mercy of a madman. You’re not stupid enough to believe that if you open the basement door, it will open and you’ll get on with your life as before. As if reading your mind, the creak of the sinister door pierces the silence. Your hair stands on end. Your heart misses a beat. The door opens slowly, revealing a menacing shadow. Your breath freezes in your throat and acid reflux surges up your throat, burning your windpipe.

And there, in the doorway, you see him. Michael Myers. His empty, dark gaze pierces you. He represents a silent threat that chills you to the bone. Fear paralyzes you and your limbs are refusing to answer to your desperate orders to flee.

You’re a prisoner in your own home, at the mercy of a faceless monster bent on your destruction. You feel your strength ebbing away, hope flickering in the darkness as you realize that you’re alone, powerless against the unspeakable horror befalling you.

The flickering light from the basement illuminates a strange figure, a man in a boogeyman mask standing there motionless, like a specter straight out of your darkest nightmares. You don’t understand, none of this makes sense. Your heart pounds in your chest as you instinctively step back, your baby in the crib next to you, a fragile barrier between you and this terrifying intruder.

"What do you want?" Your voice slightly shakes and you’re certain he can sense your fear... Like the wild animal he is.

The man doesn’t respond immediately, his gaze hidden behind the inexpressive mask of a boogeyman. He slowly moves in your direction, as his footsteps sinisterly echo in the room. You stand over the cradle, protective, ready to do anything to defend your child from this unspeakable threat... If you have to be stabbed 15 or 16 times like he did Judith to save her, you’ll do it. She’s the most precious thing in the world to you.

"What do you want?" you asked again, in a sharper tone.

Silence.

Annoyed, you grab the first thing that comes to hand – a box of condoms forgotten on a dusty shelf – and throw it at the masked man. He barely catches it before it hits his latex mask. He drops the condoms to the floor and slowly removes the serial killer’s mask. Your eyes widen. You think you’re dreaming. It’s impossible, isn’t it? You almost choke on your saliva. You’ve never been so disturbed in your life, so much so that your whole being is shaking like a leaf.

Corey.

Your ex, the father of your daughter.

The man you loved and still love.

"Corey?" you whisper, stunned, as if you were in a bad dream.

He looks at you with his dark eyes, reflecting a pain you can’t understand, beyond anything you could imagine. For the first time, you perceive something different… As if he’s not quite the nice guy you used to date.

"I’m sorry," he murmurs at last, his voice little more than a whisper.

You stand there, petrified, unable to move as the pieces of the puzzle begin to fall into place in your jumbled mind. Why is he there? Why is he covered in blood? Could it be that he’s usurped the notorious serial killer’s name for revenge…? Revenge on whom? So many questions loop in your mind.

"Corey, what happened?"

Your words are barely audible, a desperate plea in the oppressive darkness. He looks away, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his invisible burden.

"I need to talk to you…"

In the suffocating atmosphere, the echo of your breaths intermingles, in a song of fear and confusion. Corey stands before you, still in a menacingly silhouette, his piercing gaze on you… the gaze of a killer.

"We’re together now and no one can separate us," he declares in a deep voice, each syllable falling like a stab into your already wounded heart.

You stare at him, incredulous, unable to understand how events could have taken such a turn. Allyson, his girlfriend, a mere puppet in a game with rules you didn’t catch. Confusion fills you, mixed with a hint of dread, as you desperately try to make sense of it all.

“Corey, what are you talking about?" you gasp, your voice trembling.

He sneers, a cold sound devoid of any humanity.

"Allyson has been nothing but a pawn," he repeats, a touch of disdain tinting his words.

Your eyebrows furrow, your thoughts intertwining in a swirl of confusion and distrust.

"What do you mean?" you ask, anxiety tightening your throat like a vise.

Suddenly, Corey comes closer, his gaze anchored in yours. His hand firmly grasps your chin, forcing you to keep your gaze in his. A flush of panic rises in you, aware that a completely different man is standing in front of you right now… If only you could bring back the old Corey. Now he’s looking at you, as if he’s trying to read your soul, as if he likes to see the fear on your face.

"I hated the idea of you separating me from our daughter," he whispers. "You never gave me a chance."

You hold your breath, your thoughts swirling in a chaotic tumult as his words echo in your mind.

"You didn’t want to assume your paternity and you told me to get an abortion…" you retort, in a tone full of bitterness.

He glances down at the cradle where your daughter rests peacefully, her little arms waving in the air as she chirps, a sign that she’s just woken up to the sounds of your discussion. With a surprising delicacy, Corey takes her in his arms, and presses her against his chest, without hurting her, all of this with a gleam of tenderness in his eyes. One of his hands strokes your daughter’s curls, so similar to his own, then he presses a kiss to her forehead.

Something tells you that a new chapter is opening, charged with mystery and danger, but also with a glimmer of hope... Not forgetting the element of uncertainty.

However, the basement seems to shrink around you, its walls becoming oppressive, threatening to crush you. Corey is still standing in front of you, but he’s putting the baby back in the cradle. On the other hand, your struggle against the bonds holding you captive, icy anguish gripping your heart with its claws.

"Untie me, please," you beg in a trembling voice.

Corey shakes his head, a shadow of distrust hovering in his dark eyes.

"You’ll run," he declares in a calm but resolute voice, each word weighing like a silent condemnation.

You frown, your frustration mixed with a hint of anger.

"Why would I run away? I don’t understand you," you protest, a note of incredulity piercing your fragile voice. A beautiful lie you hope to serve him on a gold platter, but you both know very well why. You suspect he killed people that Halloween night. Something dangerous has awakened in him.

He scrutinizes you with his inscrutable gaze. Then, in a voice devoid of any empathy, he lets slip the brutal truth behind his mask of apparent calm.

"I killed my mother", he reveals coldly, his words reverberating in the heavy cellar air like echoes of doom. "She got what she deserved. And Ronald… Ronald was killed by some kids I wanted to eliminate. They threw me off a bridge a few days ago. Fortunately, I got them all, one by one… Their deaths were equivalent to their degree of involvement in my torment."

He smirks, then snicker. A shiver of fear rips through your spine and you wince as best you can. How can he announce such a thing so lightly? A wave of horror washes over you, a deadly embrace that compresses your chest and suffocates every part of your being. Your breath catches in your throat and your eyes mist with tears. This isn’t your Corey, this isn’t the man you loved. It’s a monster, a predator lurking in the shadows, ready to strike without mercy.

You feel trapped, imprisoned in a hell you can barely understand. Fear seeps into every fiber of your being, a throbbing pain that twists your insides. What are you going to do now that you know the truth? How can you escape this unspeakable horror that threatens you from all sides?

He slowly comes nearer, his face so close to yours so you can feel his warm breath skimming your skin. Your heart pounds in your chest. A wave of panic rises inside you and that same suffocating sensation threatens to engulf you.

"You’re gonna love me again like you used to," he whispers, in a voice as soft as it is tinged with madness.

Terrorized, you nod weakly, your eyes fixed on his, a flicker of despair in your gaze. He smiles, a smile devoid of warmth, a smile that chills you to the bone.

Then, in a dark, sinister voice, he breathes the words that echo like a warning in the tension-filled air: "You belong to me".

A shiver of horror runs down your spine as you realize the magnitude of the threat b You’re a prisoner in your own basement, at the mercy of a man you no longer recognize, a man who seems to have lost most of his humanity… He’s the darkness.

You’re trapped.

---

[Author’s notes] Should I write another part? Do you have ideas for another part? Again, sorry if it’s not developed enough. I would totally do it if I was writing one of my novels.

My Ko-fi: betrayedwriter My AO3: BetrayedWriter My Instagram: carolinemertz_

Want to read my novel if you know some french? Find them in my bio 😉

#Corey Cunningham #corey Cunningham x reader #Corey Cunningham x you #Corey Cunningham imagine #halloween 2018 #halloween kills #halloween ends #Halloween 2022 #corey cunningham headcanons #slasher x reader #slasher x you #slasher imagine #slasher headcanons

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sluttyten · 1 year

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UNHOLY - Chapter Fifteen

full masterlist || UNHOLY chapter index

summary: the night and into the morning before the trial that will determine the fates of Yuta and Ten, it’s all you can think about, dream about, have nightmares about. But when you wake, you find yourself plunged into a new dawn of horror

length: 14,467 words

tags: smut, threesome, double penetration, creampie, etc.

<-previous || next–>

You’re not sure how long it takes before you truly and deeply fall asleep that night before the trial. For a while, it feels like you’ll never sink into the true state of peace that sleep should bring you. Once you’ve cried until you feel worn out, your eyes raw and puffy, you slowly drift out of consciousness.

Yet still.

Every time either Mark or WinWin moves, you wake. Each time that the lights you created on the ceiling flare a little too brightly, you wake. Your night consists of restless sleep, twisted dreams, Mark comfortingly telling you to go back to sleep.

Your first nightmare of the night begins a little too realistically.

Your dream opens in the dark bedroom. You can hear WinWin breathing beside you, and you can feel Mark’s cool arm against yours.

At first, you think you’ve actually woken, and you can’t tell what woke you up until the door of the room bursts open. Watchers flood into the room in a flurry of noise and light and activity, tearing you away from the bed before any of you get the chance to react. It feels real as you’re dragged from the bed, across the floor, out the door.

You only wake when Mark presses his cool hands to your cheeks, repeating your name as you thrash around. When you properly wake up, in the same room and with arms around you, you freak out a bit until you realize that WinWin has his arms around you, his lips against your shoulder, Mark’s hands on your cheeks.

They hold you until you drift calmly back to sleep, and immediately you’re swept into deeper and darker dreams of the same scenario with slight variations. Over and over again: you pass through nightmares of you being taken away, of Mark being torn from the bed while you’re forced to watch him being torn apart, of WinWin being leashed and dragged from the room kicking and snarling, bloodied and bruised.

There is an intense night terror of angels breaking through the windows of the green bedroom. Glass shatters over the bed, glittering like snowfall in the moonlight as incredible angels – beautiful and terrifying – fill the bedroom with light and awe-inspired fear. They scoop all three of you into their arms and fly out into the night with you, speaking in a language that you know you should understand although you can’t, and they drop you when you’re high above the ground. Your stomach does that horrible plummeting thing that jolts you awake again, your heart pounding, limbs tense, and you curl yourself against Mark’s side, hiding your face in his shoulder.

“Quiet,” Mark whispers, lifting a hand to stroke your hair. “It’s just a dream.”

It’s not like it ends there.

You wish it did. You wish that you wouldn’t fall asleep again, but you’re tired. Mentally and physically drained from the activities of the day, so you tumble once more into sleep, into twisted nightmares. Now it’s not you being stolen away that you’re presented with, but instead nightmares of the trial commencing; unspeakable things plague those dreams, leaving you waking in terror, choking on your own sobs, the sickening images of your boyfriends’ destructions replaying on your eyelids. Even as you tell yourself that it was just a dream, the bile rises in your throat, and you have to remind yourself to breathe.

It’s only when Mark lays his cool lips against the side of your head, places his chilled fingertips against your temple on the other side of your head, that you even begin to relax. The feeling of his skin on yours relaxes you, relieving the throbbing headache you weren’t even truly aware of until this moment.

“I promised myself I would never play mind games with you again,” he admits softly, “But I think tonight is the exception. Sleep, babe. Dream good dreams.”

And just like that, you’re gone again.

It’s almost cruel when your dream swells into existence around you, unfolding in the hazy orange light of Hell City. You’re in your apartment, you can tell that before the dream is even fully-fledged. It’s all so familiar – the light, the air, the feel of the sheets on your skin, the heat of the bodies in bed with you. It feels real: the way that you’re on your belly, your head pillowed on a shoulder, the heat of light laying over your bare skin from the gap in the curtains, a teasing breeze sneaking in through the gap as well. You can feel the cool prickle of it over your cheeks in sharp contrast to the way your boyfriends are touching you.

Ten’s lips paint fiery kisses over your bare shoulders and your upper back, his tongue tasting the ridges of your spine, still slightly covered in the edible body glitter he’d painted you with hours and hours ago before you went out to one of Mark’s clubs. Yuta’s shoulder is the one you’re resting your head on, and he’s got his smile pressed against your hairline, his fingertips tracing whorls over the top of your shoulders, the back of your neck, toying with your hair.

Is this a memory? Some small part of you wonders, or is this a dream?

Ten’s lips move lower and lower, and you hum pleasantly when his body sinks between your legs. His hands are gentle as he moves them apart.

“Enjoying yourself, pretty girl?” Yuta asks, his voice low and teasing. “Already all worked up, and Ten’s barely even touched you.”

Ten nips lightly at your ass.

“I missed you,” your words slip from your lips without a thought.

“And where have we been?” Yuta laughs, kissing high on your cheek.

You don’t know why you said that, not right now. Not when you’re here with them, in bed with them, in Hell City and everything is fine. It’s more than fine, you realize, relaxing even more into the bed as Ten kisses his way back up your spine, his fingers sliding between your legs. He’s all slow strokes and teases, the flicker of teeth and tongue on your back, tickling breath over your ribs, until you’re turning on your side, baring your front to him.

Ten gets you to roll onto your back, your hair splayed across Yuta’s shoulder and chest as Ten snags your right leg to hook it over his hip. His fingers keep busy between your legs. And between one moment and the next, suddenly it’s Yuta between your legs, his fingers filling you, his lips kissing your clit while he grins up at you with his eyes. His hand spreads up over your belly to your chest, and you arch into his touch, rolling your hips down into the sweet pleasure of his mouth and his fingers.

Things flicker again, and it’s Ten again between your legs. He’s on his knees, in a dark valley of the underground of Hell City. His fingers dig into your thighs and hips and ass, pulling you forward to grind your pussy against his lips. You want to relive this moment again and again, to settle into this, to have both of them on their knees for you like this, treating you like a feast for them to devour.

This time you tumble back into reality with a different sort of cry, followed immediately by a groan of frustration.

“Shh,” Mark automatically shushes you, stroking his cold fingers through your hair again, and you feel yourself being pulled back under into dreams.

There are dreams of happier times. Memories more than dreams, ones with Yuta and Ten and Mark, and sometimes WinWin is there. They seem to be memories of Mark’s. They are happy projections of his memories to keep you from falling once more into nightmares. It’s nice at first, but then you suppose that out there in the real world Mark’s attention slips. Memories twist into fantasies – times that he’d watched you with Yuta and Ten, his heart burning with jealousy as he watched them touch you in the clubs and at his bar, in your apartment when you all thought no one would notice. His memories and thoughts take a turn towards his jealous moments, his moments of longing, all those times he wishes he would’ve just kissed you.

You swear you can almost see yourself right now. Your sleeping face painted in moonlight. You can feel a knot in your belly, insistent and hungry, an ache in your throat as the view in your dreams shrinks to just your chest, your pounding heart. Mark’s mind delves fully into fantasy – a scene in which he wakes you up right now with a bite, or maybe just a kiss, maybe with his lips on your tits.

After that, it’s like you’re in freefall.

Your dreams flood in. Sexy dreams of different scenarios with Mark, with WinWin, with Yuta and Ten. There’s a dream set in black-and-white, with the classic vampire tropes and imagery, you draped over Mark’s lap while he drinks from your throat, but his hands are busy beneath your skirt. There’s a dream featuring Ten that takes you by surprise, with you chained up, your arms and legs bound apart as he teases and touches and takes from you. A dream involving WinWin makes your entire body erupt with heat, involving you waking to find him humping your thigh and whining, telling you that his rut has just struck again.

And then there’s the dream that forms around you, set right in the green bedroom. Moonlight fills the room, painting your body in silver light just as it had in Mark’s fantasy about waking you. You can feel WinWin beside you, one of his hands curved over your bare thigh. Your pussy throbs already in the dream as his fingers twitch towards your hot core, but he doesn’t touch you with any intention. He’s asleep, and Mark’s gone, but two figures stand beside the bed.

Yuta. Ten.

Ten’s eyes are alight, switching back and forth between staring at WinWin’s hand on your thigh and your breasts, nipples peaked in the cool air and the moonlight. He climbs into the bed without hesitation. His fingers dive into your hair, pulling you up from the pillow until your mouths crush together. He’s rabid, starving, kissing you breathless, his fingers slick between your thighs, and it’s a wonder you haven’t cum untouched yet with all of these sex dreams one after the other.

They always end too early, before you can get to the good part, but this time you won’t let it happen. You’re going to hold onto this dream and bend it to your will.

“Ten,” you sigh, and then again and again, “Ten, Ten, Ten.”

He laughs into the kiss as you clutch at his shoulder with one hand, your other reaching down to press your fingers over his between your legs. “Is WinWin not enough for you?” Ten teases, and you gasp softly as he fills you with his fingers. “Nobody makes you cum like we do, darling, isn’t that right?”

All you can do is moan.

Ten kisses along your jaw and your throat. His fingers stroke inside you. Your heart thunders in your chest, your body hot and throbbing with need. His eyes glitter in the moonlight when he breaks away from kissing your throat, looking down at you with a smile, his gaze intent as he looks you over. His gaze catches on the bruises and the bite marks, and you know he wants to say something, but Ten keeps his thoughts to himself, instead diving back down to paint his jealousies on your skin with his mouth, making his own marks to cover those already on you.

Ten chooses to leave a hickey on your shoulder, right over a very sensitive spot that your brain reminds you Mark kept favoring hours ago before you fell asleep. (You’re dreaming, remember?, your brain also supplies, and again you reassert your will to not let control of this dream slip away. You want to hold and be held by Ten and Yuta, to finally cum after the past series of horny dreams. You don’t want this dream to end.) your body arches, your pussy contracting around Ten’s fingers, and your fingernails dig into his shoulder hard enough to draw blood.

“Shit,” Ten hisses, lifting his mouth from your shoulder. He grinds the heel of his palm against your clit, moving his fingers inside you rapidly. Your thighs draw together around his wrist, and as you open your mouth to cry out, Yuta swoops in at last.

You’d nearly forgotten him there, standing as a frozen shadow in the corner of your eye. Everything had been all about Ten, but the moment that Yuta kisses you, your world bursts. Your orgasm brings flames flickering along your fingers even as you rake one hand through Yuta’s hair, the other still digging sharp nails into Ten’s shoulder. Neither of them seem to mind the flames at all. Ten even pulls your hand from his shoulder to his lips, kissing your fiery fingertips first before he sucks first one and then a second finger into his mouth.

Yuta’s hands are warm, familiar. He touches you, a hand on your belly rising up over your ribs to your chest. You whimper into his kiss as he cups one of your tits, rolling the nipple between his fingers.

You’re so caught up in Yuta — the overwhelming feeling of him touching you now, his scent which smells like coming home, the intoxicating tangle of his tongue with yours — that you don’t pay any attention to the way that Ten pulls your fingers from his lips, guiding your hand down to touch him. You register the weight of him in your hand, his fingers curled around yours to get your hand moving, but you lose yourself in kissing Yuta, in the movement of his hand back down your belly, taking over tracing teasing circles on your clit now that Ten is more focused on himself.

You dare not pull away from Yuta’s lips, not even to draw breath to say his name, you just moan it into the kiss, the syllables of his name no more than a deep hum in your chest. He moans in reply, something that sounds like your name.

Whether Yuta shifts Ten out of the way or your dream just rearranges things and removes Ten from the equation, suddenly Yuta is the one hovering over you, his knees touching the insides of your spread thighs. Yuta sinks down and you have missed the wicked shot of pleasure it gives you to see Yuta between your thighs, the feel of him ducking his head to kiss your pussy, opening you up with his tongue, licking you out like you’re giving him the sweetest nectar.

One of his hands snakes up your body covering your mouth as you struggle to not moan loudly for him. Your eyes roll, your hips lifting off the bed to grind against Yuta’s lips, and he cradles an arm beneath your tailbone, holding you against him as he fucks you on his tongue.

“Yuta,” you manage to moan aloud, quickly followed up with a pleading, “Fuck me. I want to feel you inside me.”

His lips are damp as he kisses across your inner thigh. His mouth glistens as he lifts his head to look up at you. His hair is a mess, longer and a little shaggier than you remember it being that last day in Hell City, but his hair is gorgeous nonetheless, and you long to rake your fingers through the inky black softness of it.

Yuta moans softly, biting gently at your belly as you tug at a fistful of his hair. “Careful, my love,” his voice is low with a warning. “Have you forgotten who you belong to?”

You lift your chin, catching his eye and holding his gaze. A challenge. “I belong to no one but myself.”

Your boyfriend grins. “Damn right. But are you telling me that your pussy doesn’t have my name on it, reserved for me?”

Tonight, of course. Right now, definitely.

“Just fuck me!” You whine, knotting your fingers in his hair again to give a yank.

Yuta swears, and then he’s moving, pressing your knees towards your chest, and you’re not exactly sure when all of his clothes disappeared, but he thrusts into you smoothly, all bare skin, bare cock, bare desire as he looks into your eyes while he hits home.

Ten’s hand — as well as the rest of him — makes a sudden reappearance. He covers your mouth with his hand, trapping your moan against his palm. His other hand is busy stroking himself, and just like Yuta, Ten’s clothes have also magically disappeared. Not that you have any complaints about that; in fact, you take the opportunity to admire Ten’s slim frame, his silhouette, the demon marks on his skin that you’re so familiar with yet they seem almost as if you’ve forgotten some of them and are only now rediscovering them.

Yuta leans down, stealing your attention back as he begins kissing your throat, tongue tracing around the bruises on your neck left by Mark’s fangs. Ten takes the opportunity to shift his weight over you, his knees pressing into the mattress beside your head. His gaze meets yours, the hesitation, seeking confirmation and consent which is honestly so hot in the moment. Your mouth falls open, you nod, and you hold your tongue out.

You still have a hand twisted in Yuta’s hair, the other drags your fingernails along the ridges of his spine as he smoothly rolls his hips forward, but as Ten taps the head of his cock against your lips, you abandon Yuta’s back to instead curl your fingernails against the meaty part of Ten’s thigh. You also yank on Yuta’s hair again, and both of your boyfriends moan. Both of them thrust forward – Yuta stroking right against the bundle of nerves inside you that sends a wave of heat to tighten in your core, and Ten slips his cock right over your tongue and into your waiting mouth.

All feels right, in the moment.

You feel complete to have them both inside you, to have WinWin there (even barely playing a role in this dream as he sleeps beside you), and even Mark’s presence isn’t forgotten in the subtle throb of pleasure that lingers from his bites every time that one of your boyfriends brushes over them.

You gag a little around Ten’s cock before you just completely relax, gazing into his eyes as you let him control the blowjob.

Yuta’s lips trail higher up your throat, touching the corner of your jaw, and then he’s whispering in your ear. “So good for us, our little angel. You’re going to look so pretty when Ten cums across your face.” You whine, pussy contracting around Yuta’s cock, and your eyes roll as you break gazes with Ten to attempt to make eye contact with Yuta. Frustratingly, you can’t do that as he keeps his lips against your ear. “Go on, my love, you’re taking our cocks so well. We’ve been without your touch for too long while you’ve been playing with WinWin and Mark.”

You moan around Ten, and a series of syllables in an unknown language pour from his lips. His cock pulses on your tongue.

“Did you think of us when they were touching you?” Yuta asks. His teeth graze your earlobe.

Again, you moan, your body arching, hips rolling in an attempt to get Yuta to move faster and deeper than the gentle rocking tease he’s maintaining right now. Your whole body is covered in goosebumps, a chill running along every inch of skin that he and Ten are not touching – which is far too much of it, as far as you’re concerned.

As if you spoke your thoughts aloud, Ten pulls away.

You gasp for breath, and before you can truly even fully draw in the first breath, Ten’s got his hands on your shoulders, moving you and Yuta, making you both sit up, pushing you up into Yuta’s lap so you’re sitting down on his cock. Ten slides in behind you, his hands on your hips as he moves closer.

“I can’t take this. I need to feel you properly.” Ten kisses between your shoulder blades, and then he’s sliding his fingers down your spine, over your tailbone, dipping down until his touch meets where Yuta fits inside you.

This is without a doubt your favorite dream of the night.

Eons better than those early nightmares, but also so much greater than the series of sex dreams that have led up to this one.

Yuta kisses you quiet as Ten spreads you open, as with each stroke of Ten’s fingers and Yuta’s cock, the heat inside of you burns a little hotter. Yuta draws circles against your clit, still rocking his hips up into you, and finally, Ten joins him.

“Fuck, I’ve missed this,” you sigh, dropping your head forward against Yuta’s shoulder as Ten bottoms out.

As much as you really like WinWin and Mark, as wonderful as all the sex you’ve had with them has been, you know that they can’t ever compare to how you feel with Yuta and Ten. There’s just something so complete in your sexual encounters with the two demons that you don’t think you can ever truly find anywhere else. They fit you perfectly, wholly. If you had to put it into words, maybe you would declare them your soulmates, the perfect fit for you in every way.

With both of them inside you now, with the building tingle in your belly and toes and the feeling of being so full with them, it doesn’t take too long for you to reach your climax. Your body shakes with the intensity of it, pinned between the hot press of your boyfriends’ bodies as they keep moving. Both of them try to kiss you, though Yuta certainly has the main advantage on that as he’s right in front of you, but Ten inserts himself too.

They both keep thrusting into you, bouncing you on their cocks even while they kiss you, muffling your moans and sighs, the way you chant, “Yuta, Yuta, Yuta,” as he keeps stimulating your clit even once tears have already sprung to your eyes and your limbs are trembling from the overstimulating pleasure.

Ten reaches around, tweaking your nipples between his fingers while you’ve got your head turned to the side to be able to kiss him. You roll your hips desperately back and forth on your two boyfriends’ cocks, aiming to never let this end. Even when you reach the point that you’re so sensitive it almost hurts, you don’t want it to end.

You just want them.

Never-ending.

Forever.

Yuta cums first. His flame wings unfurl for an instant, flashing bright white as the tips rise to brush against the ceiling before it’s just him before you again. The faintest scent of smoke lingers in the air. He wraps his arms around you, drawing you against his chest as he pumps you full with his cum even as Ten is still going.

Yuta slowly pulls away from you until he’s lying flat on his back, you supporting yourself on your hands above him, while Ten is still snapping his hips forward against your ass. You throw your head back, unable to help moaning when Ten trails one of his hands up from your chest to your throat, curling his hand lightly there while he brushes his lips along your jaw. He draws the thumb of his other hand over your bottom lip, then he whispers, “Did you want me to cum here, little saint? Paint your lovely face? Or do you want to feel me inside you? Carry a little bit of me with you, along with Yuta and Mark and WinWin?”

Ten flicks his tongue out, and for an instant you catch that tang of sulfur on the air as he does something. A warm feeling fills your belly, and Ten’s voice is right in your ear, ringing through your dream- and lust-hazed mind.

“Gonna make you feel so full, darling.” He humps forward, and you can feel him in your belly. Yuta curses quietly beneath you, his hand coming up to your abdomen. His skin is fire-hot against yours, and his half-soft cock still inside you begins to harden again. “Tell us which of us you missed more?” Ten asks, just loud enough for Yuta to hear, before he thrusts in and grinds in deeper.

The gasp of Ten’s name that falls from your lips is almost involuntary, but it’s exactly what he was hoping to hear.

“That’s right, sweetheart.” Ten combs his fingers through your hair drawing it back from where bits of it are falling into your face. You know he wants Yuta to be able to see your face, to see every little expression that tells Yuta how good Ten is making you feel. Nevermind that Yuta’s still inside you too, that he’s coming around for a second round. “Say my name again.”

“Ten!” Your moan pitches into a whine when he keeps going, rocking into you hard and rhythmically, chasing his high as you lose yourself. None of you are considering WinWin, but he’s just a background character in this dream anyway, and he just barely twitches when you let out the loudest moan yet as Yuta finally jumps back into action, thrusting up into you when Ten draws his hips back. They take turns now, pistoning into you alternately so there’s never a moment that you don’t feel absolutely full.

Of course, the heavy scent of sulfur in the air accompanies the little changes they’ve both made. Both of them swelling their cocks to give that little stretch more.

Your orgasm is an explosion — just a trickle of pleasure through a crack in the dam until suddenly the whole of you bursts apart. Flames lick over your skin, though your two boyfriends are quick to extinguish the fire with their lips and hands, smothering out the flames by covering every inch of you in their touches even while they both keep fucking you. Sparks dance between your fingertips as you press your hands into Yuta’s hair, drawing his mouth to yours. It’s a messy, violent, and hungry kiss. You bite at his bottom lip until you get a tiny taste of blood, and he grips your jaw tightly in his hand until you release his lip and open your mouth, wide enough for him to spit on your tongue before crashing your mouths back together.

Ten cums, watching this happen, feeling your pussy throb and hug so snuggly around his cock. He grinds forward, as deep inside you as he can get, cocking pumping you full. An endless amount of cum, it seems, still flooding your belly with warmth as he leans around, digging his hands into your hair and Yuta’s so he can pull you apart long enough for him to join in.

They both keep you moving on top of Yuta. Ten’s slowly rocking his hips as his orgasm begins to taper off, and Yuta’s got his hands on your hips, pulling you down on his cock even as he’s still thrusting smoothly up into you.

You don’t know if it’s simply the tight clutch of your pussy around him that pushes Yuta over the edge into his second orgasm, or if it’s the way that Ten leans back and draws you with him so you’re seated on Yuta’s thighs. Your knees are up, your feet planted on the bed on either side of Yuta’s torso, and you find the strength to start fucking yourself down on Yuta’s solid cock. Ten plays with your nipples, and he suctions his mouth to your throat while you take this one last joyride on Yuta’s cock.

Yuta cums at the same time as you do.

You squirt around his cock, making a mess of his abs and even a bit on his chest. That didn’t bother him a bit, he fucks into you, your pussy frothing around his cock from all the cum, dripping with their thick loads even as he adds even more to it.

Boneless, you collapse back against Ten. You press a hand down against Yuta’s belly, feeling the sticky, wet and slimy mess on his skin. “Fuck,” you sigh. “This has been too good.”

Ten draws you backwards, off of Yuta, and carefully you’re placed back against the pillows. You’re limp now, fucked properly boneless, without the strength to even reach for them as they both climb off the bed.

“Don’t go,” you beg, “Not yet.”

You’re not ready for this dream to end, though you can tell that the time is almost up. You can feel the dream slipping. Growing a little hazy as the blankness between sleep and wakefulness pulls at you.

“No,” you whine, clinging to the dream, clinging to the shapes of Yuta and Ten. “Don’t go.”

Already they’re moving away. They’ve left you in bed, the shadowy distance of the floor growing between you and them. You sit up as quickly as you can, and attempt to throw yourself across that space. For a moment, you experience that horrible slow-motion sense that sometimes happens in dreams, as if you’re reaching for your boyfriends through water, your body dragging through the movements while your brain screams at you to just reach. And then you’re there, off the edge of the bed, on your feet.

Yuta wraps his arms around you. Your chest aches with it – that need and that love, that feeling of never being able to have enough of this right here. You’re able to loosen an arm, to grab Ten around the waist and drag him closer until he crashes against your side, his arms around you too.

You hug them both tightly, like you can crush them into yourself. You want to be inseparable. You want this dream to never end. Waking means facing reality, and your reality is more of a nightmare than this. You don’t want to face the trial, the prospect of the Watchers finding your boyfriends guilty of a fucking stupid violation.

You don’t know when it started, but you quickly find that you’re crying.

Ten rests his chin against the top of your head. The tears fall faster when Ten curls his hand affectionately against the back of your neck, his arm fast around your waist. You clutch at his sides.

“I hate this,” you curse, your words half-muffled against whichever one of your boyfriends’ shoulders you’re pressed against. “I want to be with you. Not just in a dream.”

“Be with us then,” Ten’s lips meet your forehead, sparking over your skin. “You have the power to make dreams reality, darling.”

There’s more truth to that than you would have realized even just a day ago. You’re half-Watcher, half-demon. You don’t have a full understanding of what powers you do have, but your ability to manifest things is great. Maybe, somehow, you do have the ability to shape reality, to bend the course of fate.

Above your head, Yuta whispers something, garbled words that you can’t make out in the moment. Ten holds you even tighter, his lips against your ear when he says, “Come find us, darling. We’re always waiting for you.”

“If you lose the trial,” you say, lifting your head to look into Ten’s eyes, “I can’t follow where you’re going. There’s no finding you in the abyss.”

Ten smiles softly, looking over you to Yuta.

Yuta’s hand slides down the length of your spine. “We won’t lose, my love. Is that why you’ve been crying?” You turn your head when you feel Yuta’s hand on your cheek. “Stop crying for us,” Yuta teases, wiping at your cheeks. “It will all be okay, my love. Stop worrying, and maybe the rest of your sleep will be dreamless tonight.”

As if it’s so easy to stop worrying. Your brain should know better.

Yuta knocks his fingers lightly beneath your chin, dipping in quickly to kiss you. “Pretty girl, do you have no faith in us? Out of all the beings in the universe that wanted you, we’re the ones that found you. We’re the ones that fell in love with you.”

Ten wraps both of his arms around your waist. “Don’t you dare think it’s so easy to get rid of us. Just send us off to a little life or death trial, thinking we’re going to let the result be death. Think positive, little saint. Maybe say a prayer for us.” He kisses your cheek.

You hiccup a little sob. You haven’t prayed in a while, and from what Renjun has told you about the history of God and the Watchers, you’re not even sure if He would be listening to you if you did pray for the liberation of your demons.

“I know Mark and WinWin have been keeping you company, but they’re not replacements.” Yuta strokes your cheek. “We’ll come back to each other.”

Ten snorts. “There’s just a few hoops to jump through first.”

You don’t want to think about those hoops. You’re terrified that you’re going to wake up and it will be morning already, with only an hour or so before the trial’s start. But you’re also scared that you’re going to wake up and find it’s still the middle of the night and there are hours left to go.

“Oh, darling,” Ten coos affectionately, leaning in to rest his forehead against yours. “Sweet dreams.”

He brushes a light kiss against your lips before moving away to give Yuta the chance for a kiss as well. Yuta leaves his warm fingers on your cheek, his kiss lingering. You part your lips, opening up to deepen the kiss, and Yuta moves in closer, kissing you in the way you haven’t felt in weeks now, since before that night when they were both taken. It’s a desperate and loving kiss, like he doesn’t want to pull away either, that he doesn’t want you to leave he and Ten behind in this dream either.

Still mid-kiss, you hear a distant noise, like the slamming of a door, hard enough to rattle you and the walls of this dream.

You gasp, bolting upright in bed, torn from the dream.

“Another one?” Mark sighs, exasperated and concerned as he slides closer to you on the bed. His cool hand rests against your cheek where seconds ago Yuta’s warm touch had been in the dream. Mark’s other arm curls around your shoulders, and you lean against his chest. “Maybe you shouldn’t fall back asleep.”

You shake your head. If anything, you want to fall back asleep even more now. You want back into that dream, to get to see them and be with them again like you had in that one.

WinWin is still deep asleep on your other side. Sleeping like a rock, as he’s been for most of your series of nightmares and dreams.

Morning isn’t quite here yet, but the view of the garden outside the window is light enough that you can tell sunrise is almost upon you.

“You’ve been so restless,” Mark says, petting your hair. “When I got back from showering just a bit ago, you were right on the edge of the bed, looked like you were about to roll right off.” He noses against the side of your head. “And you’d been crying again.”

“I’m fine,” you tell him, brushing away his worries. “They’re just dreams.”

Mark scoffs. “I may not have dreamt in years, but I remember having some rough dreams when I was a human. Nightmares, like you’ve clearly been having tonight. Do you want to talk about it?”

No, you don’t. You change the subject instead. “What do you do all night since you don’t sleep or dream? Other than watch me sleep like a creep.” You’re teasing and Mark knows it; he laughs quietly, his head still resting against the side of yours.

“Mostly I just think. I can’t dream, but I can still daydream, so I do a lot of that. I can relax myself, kinda like meditation, which is a good substitute for sleep, so if I’m really bored I do that.” He squeezes his arm around your shoulders. “While we’ve been here, I’ve read a lot through the night, explored the House when that was allowed, or ran over our plans, each checking various outcomes of every scenario. I’ve looked out the window, studying the grounds. But back in Hell City I just listened to music or read or enjoyed the nightclubs, which I hope my team hasn’t run into the ground while we’ve been away.”

“It’s so weird to me that you’re like the badass vampire king of the underground scene that I met that first night, but you’re also you.” You tilt your head to get a look at his face, but Mark avoids eye contact, instead pulling you into an inescapable hug instead. You sigh, brushing your lips beneath his jaw. “You’re so kind, so easygoing with me. Like, if I met you like this before anything else, I would never believe that you were the kind of guy who created and runs a whole underground network of nightclubs, or that you’re the head of the biggest coven in Hell City.”

Sometimes you forget that Mark is an important person. He has a role in the society of Hell City. Not that Yuta, Ten, and WinWin aren’t important.

But Mark knows people. He runs in multiple circles.

“Don’t you think they’re wondering where you are?” You ask.

“Probably they think I’m holed up somewhere with you.” He tucks his head, nose brushing your neck as he breathes in. “Everyone close to me could smell you on me. You have a strong scent, babe. A really good one. Even before WinWin and I were guarding you in your apartment, your scent was all over me, and my coven and associates would razz me about it. They all wanted to know who you were; who had finally beguiled me out of my celibacy streak.”

You laugh aloud before remembering that WinWin is still sleeping on the other side of the bed. More quietly, you ask, “Beguiled you?”

Mark nods, his cool cheek pressed between your shoulder and your neck, and you have the feeling that if he were human, he’d be fully blushing right now. “From the first time I saw you. You looked like a treat in that pretty red dress. You still had the look of innocence on you, and you’ve only gotten more and more beautiful.”

Flattery.

It’s your turn to blush and you push at Mark’s shoulder, but he only turns his head, kissing along your collarbone. “I was beyond jealous when the three of you started fucking,” he admits, “When neither Ten or Yuta could keep their hands off of you even while we were out in public. But I get it. No one can ever get enough of you.”

You giggle and it turns into a moan when Mark kisses down your chest.

Mark pulls you up into his lap. His head is bowed, lips on your chest, kissing your breasts. You gasp his name, giggling as his hair tickles against your skin.

“Can’t you keep it down?” WinWin groans sleepily, rolling over and dragging the pillow over his face. “Some of us are trying to sleep.”

Your only response is to sigh Mark’s name again. It’s not your fault that WinWin has been sleeping like the dead up until this point, completely ignorant of the prior conversation, almost all of your rough wakings from dreams. He’d barely stirred since the first nightmare had jolted you awake. But now he’s awake, and fully aware of what you and Mark were getting started.

WinWin reaches over, loosely groping as if he can find the snooze button on the pair of you. Mark laughs when WinWin accidentally grabs onto his ear.

The sun isn’t even up yet, but the three of you are awake and laughing, Mark’s head pillowed against your tits as WinWin’s hand falls down to your thigh. This moment is good and happy, you think, memorizing the sound of Mark’s laugh and the crinkle of WinWin’s eyes as he peers out from beneath the pillow.

And then the happy moment shatters, splintering into a million slivers.

A door slams against the wall out in the common room. Footsteps race across the floor towards the green bedroom, and the door bursts open.

WinWin leaps off the bed, twisted among the sheets as he falls to all fours. His limbs shudder with the adrenaline of transformation. His teeth are already bared into fangs, a growl ripping from his throat.

“Oh my God!” Renjun cries from his spot in the doorway.

Neither his eyes nor his exclamation are meant for WinWin writhing on the floor. Instead, Renjun is looking right at your bare back, your position in Mark’s lap, and probably the bitemarks and bruises left on your back from the activities throughout the night. Renjun covers his eyes with his hand, spinning around so his back is to the room.

“Sorry to interrupt!” He says quickly. “But we have to go. Like, now.”

Mark nearly dumps you off of his lap onto the floor.

“Go? Go where?” Mark asks, but he’s already moving. He pulls on a shirt from a pile of discarded clothes on the settee in the corner of the room. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t have time to explain. Just get dressed.” Renjun half-turns, catching a slight glimpse of you pulling on an outfit you’ve just manifested from thin air, spotting WinWin struggling to free himself from the bedsheets on the floor. “Quickly.”

WinWin stands in the middle of the room naked. “We’re not going anywhere until you tell us what’s going on, Renjun.”

You’ve never seen Renjun angry really. Frustrated, yes. Annoyed, yes. But in this moment you get to see a combination of new emotions play out across his pretty features. His silver eyes nearly glow in the darkness, his face flushing, his shoulders tensing and he draws himself up to his full height, which truly seems to grow with his anger. “Just fucking listen to me! I don’t have time to explain!”

You and Mark are already dressed, driven on by the anger and the panic bleeding into Renjun’s voice. You toss a shirt and pair of pants at WinWin.

There aren’t many belongings that you have here in the House of the Watchers. You came here with essentially just the clothes on your back, but there are a few small items that you’ve manifested that you want to take with you scattered about, so you gather them up quickly as WinWin pulls on his clothes.

Renjun watches closely, and the moment that WinWin has slipped his feet into a pair of shoes, Renjun is spinning on his heel, marching across the common room.

“Are the guards going to let us out?” Mark asks, keeping close behind Renjun.

“No.” Renjun doesn’t even look around. He passes right by the door of the common room, heading right for the door of the blue bedroom. “I have a better idea.”

You haven’t stepped foot in the blue bedroom since the first night here. All the mirrors covering the walls had been thoroughly off-putting, and after Renjun’s warning to WinWin about the mirrors, the door to that bedroom had been firmly closed. Until now.

Now the door is slightly open, likely swung nearly shut again from where Renjun had slammed it open moments ago.

“Where are we going?” WinWin repeats, warily pausing in the doorway while you and Mark follow Renjun inside.

“We’re leaving,” is all that Renjun says before he faces a large, ornate mirror with gilt edges. “It’s not safe here for you any longer.”

You begin to ask, “But what about—“

“It’s not safe.” Renjun cuts you off sharply. “If we don’t leave now, I’m not sure when you’ll find the chance again. Are you coming?”

He reaches into the mirror, the reflection rippling outward from the point where his hand disappears up to the wrist. His other hand, he extends to you. You take it. Mark doesn’t hesitate, clutching your hand. It’s WinWin who hovers halfway between the doorway and where the three of you are lined up in front of the mirror.

You can see the distrust in his eyes. He’s always been a bit unsure of Renjun’s allegiance, and this whole situation paired with the pre-existing distrust could make Renjun’s intentions seem sketchy. But you trust Renjun entirely; he’s never shown you any reason to doubt him, and you’re all aware of the danger the Watchers pose.

“We’re just leaving?” WinWin asks. “What about Ten and Yuta?”

Your heart thuds heavily in your chest. The memory of them in your dream still lingers on your skin, the ghost of their lips and hands, a dull ache between your legs, though that’s really more likely to be due to the very real continuous fucking you’d done with the vampire and werewolf that flank you right now.

Renjun just glares at WinWin. “I said we have to leave now, didn’t you get that? I know that the three of you came here on a rescue mission, or whatever, but truly, if I don’t get you out of here right now, there’s no hope of any of you making it out. So come with me, or stay, but it’s your life on the line.”

You don’t like the idea of leaving Yuta and Ten alone here, down in the dungeon to face their trial later today all alone. But if what Renjun is saying, if the urgency in his tone is any indication, then you really can’t wait around to attempt a prisonbreak for your boyfriends. Not now.

There’s a sharp pain in your chest, the sting of tears in your eyes.

You remember that last goodbye in their cells. You know that God might not be listening, but you send up a desperate plea to Him. Please, don’t let that be the last time that you see them.

Mark squeezes your hand. Renjun makes a short sound of frustration, and WinWin growls from deep in his chest. You know he wants a proper explanation from Renjun about what is happening, and you know that he – like you and Mark too – doesn’t want to leave without Yuta and Ten, not without at least knowing their fates aren’t sealed with a stamp of doom. But you also know that your boyfriends would put your safety and the assuredness of you having a future over their own lives right now. You know, without a doubt, that they would urge you to take this escape Renjun is offering you.

“WinWin,” you say his name gently, shaking Mark’s hand out of yours to instead reach for WinWin. “I know you don’t trust him, but whether Renjun’s leading us to safety or into a trap, wouldn’t you rather be there?”

Renjun makes an insulted sound behind you, but you ignore him. Your eyes are only on WinWin.

“If you won’t trust him, trust me. Trust my judgment call.” You wiggle your fingers at him. Renjun sighs impatiently behind you, which earns him a sharp glare from WinWin before the werewolf slides his hand into yours.

You can’t hold both Mark and WinWin’s hands as well as Renjun’s, too.

Mark takes WinWin’s other hand, eyeing the tight hold you have now on WinWin.

“Perfect,” Renjun says, readjusting his hold on your hand. “Now, there are a few things before we do this. Clear your mind, hold your breath, just let me lead you. That means don’t let go of the hand in front of you. Don’t let go of the one behind you. Don’t try to follow anywhere other than where I lead, got it?”

Mark and WinWin grumble their acknowledgements.

You’re expecting it this time when Renjun leads you through the bitter cold of the mirror’s surface, but it is impossible to prepare yourself for how truly cold it is.

WinWin squeezes your hand harshly, grinding the bones of your hand together as he follows you into the mirror. You can only imagine Mark is doing the same to him.

The cold scrapes over your skin, and you keep your eyes shut tight because you hated doing this the first time, and this time is certainly no better. You just follow where Renjun leads, holding tight to both hands you hold to keep WinWin and Mark moving right behind you. Once again, you feel your chest growing tight with the need to breathe right as Renjun’s hand pulls away, but this time you just embrace the feeling. You don’t panic.

This time, you slip through the surface of the mirror like you’re stepping through a curtain. It parts around you, silken as it slides over your skin, and you step out into the warm and gentle air beside Renjun.

WinWin stumbles out behind you, immediately looping his arm around you, holding you tight back against his chest. Mark emerges from the mirror’s surface, waving it away like fog or wisps of cobwebs. His eyes touch on yours briefly before he’s looking around, glancing over Renjun then at the rest of the room.

You recognize this place.

The empty ballroom where Renjun had found you on your first morning here.

He’s just led you through the ornate mirror that takes up almost one entire wall of the ballroom. Ahead of you are the floor-to-ceiling windows set in the other three walls, and the view from here is still of a luscious garden swathed in the shadows of twilight before sunrise.

When Renjun sets out across the empty, glossy floor of the ballroom, you realize where he’s leading you.

“Outside?” You ask. Your voice echoes oddly around the space.

Renjun half-turns to look back at you. “Of course. Where did you think we were going? I told you we were leaving.”

“I thought you said it was dangerous out there?” You ask. “That if we step outside–”

“As long as we’re not planning to re-enter, it shouldn’t be a problem. And we’re not coming back in. Also, the sooner we leave, the better,” Renjun says, continuing on towards the doors that lead out to the garden. “As soon as that guard outside your rooms realizes that the three of you have vanished, they’re going to tear this house apart looking for you.”

WinWin propels you forward without another word. He keeps behind you, Mark beside him, both of them herding you towards Renjun. WinWin leaves a hand lightly on your back, not letting you slip away from him.

“A few things before we go,” Renjun says, “Once we step out there, the House will lock us out. And there are more reasons than just simply getting locked out for the Watchers to warn you off exploring outside the House. There are monsters. The primordial mindless beasts God placed in Purgatory with nowhere else to put them, which the Watchers have attempted to domesticate over the eons without much success. They kinda roam the gardens and the forest freely after dark, starving and mindless. You don’t want one of them to cross our path. So just a heads-up. If you see something big, dark, and monstrous hurtling towards us, run in the opposite direction.”

As if any of that makes you feel any better about leaving right now.

Danger lurks inside the House as well as outside.

“Maybe I should shift,” WinWin suggests quietly. His hand slides up to your shoulder. “I’m stronger when I’m a wolf. I can protect you better.”

“You’re reckless as a wolf,” Mark shoots back. “If there’s a monster out there, you’ll go chasing it down and get lost.”

WinWin glares over at Mark. “I’ll smell anything coming. I’ll be able to run faster. I can rip out the throat of any threat.”

You don’t miss the way WinWin’s gaze slides over to Renjun when he says that.

“They’re weak to sunlight. The beasts out there.” Renjun lays his hand on the handle of the door. “The sun should be up soon, but we need to get out of here before then. Transform into a wolf if you want, but like Mark said, if you run off, we’re not waiting for you. Getting her to safety is my top priority.”

Renjun says it with such an official business tone, it throws you off for a second. You met the guy five days ago, and yes, he’s been helpful and friendly and honest with you, but right now it seems like he’s risking a lot for someone he met only a few days ago. But of course, Mark and WinWin can’t disagree with him as your safety is their top priority as well.

WinWin suddenly drags his shirt over his head, passing it off to you as you stand there in surprise at the man abruptly stripping in front of you.

Renjun swears under his breath, turning his back on the three of you, though you can still see his face reflecting in the panes of glass. Mark grumbles as well, saying something about how WinWin just can’t seem to ever keep his clothes on. WinWin doesn’t acknowledge either of the other men, instead he finishes pulling his clothes off and handing them to you.

“Keep them safe for me. Wherever he’s taking us, I doubt I want to be there naked.” WinWin smiles and dips in to kiss your cheek before he strides forward. “Are we going out there or what?”

Renjun swings the door open.

WinWin is the first one outside, stepping barefooted onto the stone patio. Pale pre-dawn light filters down over him, outlining and contouring him. Renjun brushes right by him, doing his best to avoid the other’s nudity. Mark, however, smacks WinWin’s hip as he passes by, saying, “Hurry up with the transformation. We’re in a rush.”

You bundle WinWin’s clothes up tightly against your chest and strike out after them. You like looking at WinWin — his tall, thin frame and wiry muscles, the small curve of his ass. Now isn’t the time for admiring him, but less than fifteen minutes ago you were midway through getting sensual with Mark, so it’s not like your mind is too far away from getting lost in lust.

“Let’s go,” Mark sighs, reaching over to grab your hand.

As he leads you away from where WinWin is standing just outside of the House, you can hear the beginnings of the transformation behind you. You hear WinWin gasp, his breathing growing ragged. There’s a groan and a crunching sound. Mark keeps you moving forward, walking along behind Renjun down a set of stone steps onto the garden path.

This garden is vastly different from the one that you passed through on your first day here in Purgatory. That one had been near death, but this garden thrives with life. Tall hedges are full of verdant leaves, trees line the path with branches adorned in flowers and fruit. Beds are overflowing with fragrant roses and violets, with small bush-like plants that have shiny green leaves, some other plants with leaves the size of your head, some that have vines trailing through the other flowerbeds.

There are so many plants, and you can’t even begin to hope to identify even half of them. The important and astounding thing is that they’re all alive.

A howl breaks through the air behind you, long and high, carried on the light breeze that flutters petals from the tree branches as you pass beneath them. Moonlight casts shadows through the leaves as the moon emerges from behind a cloud.

Renjun freezes when the shining light washes over him, his head tilted up to the moon. His skin seems to glow, soaking in the moonlight until his skin and his hair and his eyes all have the silvery sheen of the full moon. “My mother used to tell me elves are stronger beneath the light of the moon and the stars. It’s been so long since I was able to feel like this. The Watchers hardly ever allowed me outdoors, and never during the night.” The air shimmers around him, taking on a pearly, glittery sheen.

Behind you comes the heavy sound of feet hitting the ground, four feet treading very quickly towards you. WinWin, in full wolf form, leaps clear over the nearby hedge, his forepaws sliding a little in the dirt on the landing, but otherwise graceful. He lopes casually towards the three of you, his gaze constantly darting around, ears twitching. He butts his head gently against your shoulder when he reaches you, and you twist your fingers through his thick fur.

“Keep your heads up,” Renjun says, and his voice even sounds different, exposed to the moonlight right now. Lighter, airier, with a more bell-like tone. And when he starts walking away, even his steps are lighter, barely touching the dirt.

Renjun leads your strange party through the garden, down winding turning paths, through arches cut into the hedges, guiding the way turn after turn of this maze-like garden.

Mostly it’s quiet and peaceful, but as the plants begin to grow browner, the branches of the trees more bare, the air takes on a more eerie and ominous feeling. The shadows are deeper, the air takes on a chill, and although you appear to be alone, you swear you can feel eyes on you.

You jump, startled the first time you see a statue half-hidden in an overgrown hedge, its stony gray gaze staring without seeing.

Your party of four is moving quickly through the garden, though you’re beginning to realize that the luscious garden you’d first entered just a short while ago is the same that you’d entered through on that first day. Different sections, same garden. Everything around you is passing through the seasons of plantlife, and you’re passing through the fading season of autumnal browns, oranges, purples, reds, and yellows. Leaves crunch under foot. Mud clings to the soles of your shoes as you rush along a narrow path.

Renjun pauses when you reach an open plot. Just before you, the path sinks down a few steps into a sunken garden. Trellises draped with withered vines sit dry-rotting. The wind whistles eerily, rattling the branches of a nearly barren tree in the center of the sunken section. Paths lead off of this circular opening like the spokes of a wheel, and Renjun takes a moment to look around, as if he can’t quite remember which way to go from here.

The first sign you get that something might be wrong is the distant sound of cracking and breaking branches. Something moving rapidly closer.

“Shit,” Renjun curses quietly, and then he’s taking off.

Mark catches up with him easily, and you set off at a run as well. WinWin keeps pace beside you, though you’re sure that he could easily outdistance you too. He snaps and snarls as he runs beside you, and you wonder if he’s agitated because of Renjun or because of whatever was making the noise.

You decide you don’t care which it is when you skid to a halt behind Mark. He’s stopped at another forking path. Renjun is looking around at the two dark paths that lie ahead. Mark’s fangs are bared as he spins in a circle, scanning both of the paths ahead as well as the one behind.

An uncanny chattering, chittering sound approaches.

Your flames are drawn to the surface, the power zipping along that connection to that deep well you’ve felt before. Could you teleport yourself out of here now? If things take a bad turn, could you jump away from the danger? Something inside you sings, like a warning raking its nails down your spine. You hold your flames just beneath the surface of your skin, not wanting them to set you aglow, like a beacon in the dark to whatever menacing creature is stalking through the garden.

The distant horizon glows faintly orange, hinting at the impending sunrise.

“How much farther to wherever you’re taking us?” Mark asks.

WinWin’s head snaps around to the left, staring at something in the shadows that you can’t see. His ears flatten to his head, eyes burning hot as he bares his sharp teeth to growl. He moves around, his body knocking into you, accidentally or purposefully moving you backwards, moving you closer to Mark.

“We don’t have far,” Renjun says quietly, “Come quickly.”

He sets off again. The steady pace this walk had begun as quickly becomes a frantic lope and then it becomes a jog. Renjun quickly leads you in the opposite direction from the chattering sound of whatever beast lay hidden in the shadows behind you. Your head feels stuck on a swivel, scanning from side-to-side down the empty, dark stretches of off-shooting pathways Renjun takes you by.

“Through here,” he says, and then he vanishes into the hedge wall.

As you watch Mark ahead of you, you realize there’s a low tunnel cutting through a series of hedges, or perhaps running through a thick wall of hedge. A secret tunnel through which to navigate the gardens unseen. Branches, leaves, cobwebs whip by as you duck through the tunnel. One sharp branch catches you on the cheek, and you feel the sting of it breaking skin. In front of you, Mark gasps, turning his head as the fresh scent of your blood spikes his senses. Behind you, WinWin snarls, gnashing his teeth together in a way that seems to say, “Keep fucking moving!”

You push Mark forward. The scratch on your cheek is just that: a small blemish, just a tiny blossom of blood.

He stumbles forward, keeping his head turned around, looking behind you at WinWin’s wolf eyes or perhaps at something beyond him. You can hear it now, the chittering and clicking sound growing closer, the snapping sound of branches that you’d believed to be WinWin crashing through the brush. But it’s more than that. You can hear the whipping sound of something moving quickly outside the tunnel, and if you look straight ahead at Renjun’s faintly glowing figure cutting through the branches ahead of Mark, you can kind of even see the shadowy shape of something running alongside the tunnel, making the same disturbing sounds as whatever is behind you.

Up ahead, you can see the end of the tunnel, opening into a clear spot in this hideous, half-dead garden. Moonlight greets Renjun as he makes it through, standing straight and spinning around to gesture for Mark, you, and WinWin to follow. He looks so small, ethereal too, as he stands in the mouth of the hedge tunnel, his face alight with the magic the Watchers have been denying him for too long.

“It’s just over here, c’mon!” He calls.

Mark moves a little faster, as quick as he can while being hunched over in this low passage. You’re right behind him, your fingers on one hand knotted with his.

You can hear the creatures gaining on you. Both the one inside the tunnel and the one that you can see in your peripheral vision. The sky visible behind Renjun’s head still appears no closer to daylight than it had before. Dark navy with only the barest hint of orange sunrise at the horizon. There’s got to be some way to escape them before sunrise.

Mark all but drags you out of the tunnel, hauling you firmly onto your feet, already attempting to propel you in front of him, putting himself between you and the beast in the tunnel.

WinWin bursts from the tunnel, his hackles standing on end, muzzle pulled into a snarl.

A thick brown limb shoots from the mouth of the hedge tunnel, and you watch in horror as it grasps WinWin’s tail and both of his hind legs. With a yelp that sounds entirely too much like a human scream, WinWin vanishes backwards into the tunnel.

Not a second after WinWin vanishes, dragged by one of the monsters of Purgatory back into the tunnel, another beast comes bursting through the hedge to your left.

A brown blur of heavy fleshy body, it clips your shoulder before slamming full-force into Renjun.

The world spins, goes white, and then fades back into focus with a burst of pain in your head and your right shoulder. The sky wheels above you as you open your eyes. Clouds, the moon, a few faint stars, the tops of the hedges all spin together, blurring in an increasingly nauseating way.

“Fuck!” Mark cries, his voice muted in your ears, and you realize he’s leaning over you, his face filling your vision, his hands patting your cheeks. “Get up! Shit!”

He disappears.

Only a moment longer is all it takes for your senses to return to you.

You sit up, fighting down a wave of nausea that rises. The ground feels unsteady beneath your feet as you lift yourself up, your shoulder aches, head throbbing.

For the first time, you get a clear look at one of these beasts.

The thing has no face.

A round brown-black head of leathery loose skin and a wide mouth that cuts through most of its head. Rows of jagged teeth drip with saliva as the beast that knocked you down leers down at Renjun. He’s pinned to the ground beneath its heavy frame. The thick body shows only a ridge of a spine down the middle of its back, a whip-like tail. It has six legs, two of which are at present grappling with Renjun, another two attempt to ward off Mark’s attacks on it.

Turns out that your instincts haven’t changed yet. Given the chance for fight or flight (and flight isn’t really any option here), your body still chooses to freeze.

Watching the chaos around you, you’re not sure what to do.

Renjun and Mark fight one of the creatures. WinWin and the other are still crashing around inside the mouth of the tunnel. You can see blood and bits of fur, hear the snarling from WinWin and the chattering of the creatures. The monster fighting Mark and Renjun is the bigger of the two, easily handling both of them.

You know your strength isn’t enough. The hand-to-hand combat WinWin and Mark had trained you in won’t do you much good here. You need something better. You need the sunlight like Renjun said, but the sun is being slow to rise this morning, and you need it now.

Yuta’s voice appears in the back of your mind, hazy from an older memory. “You can manifest anything you want,” he’d told you, encouraging you to manifest the stars and moon since you missed seeing them in Hell City. You’d done exactly that, creating the little galaxy on your apartment ceiling, and that gives you an idea now. You think of the ball of fire you’d played with before the High Watcher and his court of Watchers.

If you can make stars and planets to fill your ceiling, if you can already make a bright ball of fire, surely you can make a Sun now?

Your fire still burns just beneath your skin, and it takes nothing to ignite yourself.

You go up like a matchstick doused in gasoline, which is to say, instantaneously.

The beast fighting against Mark and Renjun breaks away from them, turning its ugly head towards you. It clicks its many rows of teeth together, even licks its lips like it can’t wait to take a bite out of you. The hideous body contorts, convulsing as it rises onto its hind legs to take a step towards you.

You crank up the heat, and you can feel the connection to that deep well inside you straining to give all the power you can muster. You imagine manifesting a Sun as you had with the stars. You imagine imbibing it with the heat that you’ve drawn up, forming it into a sphere between your hands.

Another one of the beasts emerges from the tunnel. A long scratch stretches down its side, a strip of skin flayed off, but it doesn’t seem to mind. Your heart pounds, checking the mouth of the tunnel for any sign of WinWin, but the entrance remains empty and dark behind the monster. You try not to let that worry you too much. You need to focus on the fire, on the heat, on creating a Sun.

The chittering sound of the beasts grow closer, and with your eyes closed you luckily can’t see them leering at you with their featureless round heads, their wide mouths and many teeth. Through your eyelids you can see the growing glow of a white-orange light; you can feel the tingle of the heat against your palms.

A warm breeze picks up, blowing your hair away from your face, whipping around you like a desert storm while the heat between your hands grows warmer. You can feel the heat leaching out of you to feed this sun you’re growing, fingertips growing cold even as you feel the heat kissing against them. It blows dry air against your face, baking you in its radiant heat, forcing your eyes open when a particularly harsh gust of blazing air hits you full in the face.

Around the edge of the corona on the sun you’ve created, you see the blurry image of the monsters of Purgatory, muddled by the heat mirage. Renjun is on the ground, pale and limp amid a bed of dead flowers. WinWin is still nowhere to be seen. Mark is fighting with a third beast that has appeared from somewhere, and the scene is that of flashing claws and teeth, a spray of blood that catches in the light of your creation.

You need it brighter, stronger.

You’re at the glow of a large bonfire, which has only served to draw the attention of the two creatures. The large one that abandoned Renjun prowls back and forth only a few feet in front of you, head turned towards your light. The other just watches, leering at you with its dripping maw. They’re not afraid of the light yet, not like Renjun had said. You need to push yourself harder, you know you can do it.

You seek along that connection inside of you, following it to that deep, fathomless place inside you. You reach into the well of power, feeling it white-hot and deep, liquid energy like gasoline for your fire. It’s limitless and you dive yourself into it, pooling it fully around you until you feel the world burst apart around you.

An aurora of white fire, edged in blue and orange and red, tinged golden and even purple in some places fills the night sky, turning it from night to day in a split second.

The creatures shriek. The big one in front of you crumples up on the ground, limbs drawing in, one set of its legs rising to uselessly cover its face. You can see the disgusting shrinking and burning of its fleshy skin, the curl of smoke rising, the pitch of its clicking and chattering growing until it cuts out entirely. The other cringes, shifting its weight back and forth, watching you uncertainly until the heat of your manifested Sun reaches it. You can see smoke rising from its flesh, skin bubbling and blistering before it screeches and flees, bounding away into the night.

The beast fighting Mark lingers the longest, though when stray flares flick out into the night, whipping at the creature’s body, it disentangles itself quickly, fleeing after the other, back into the darkness where it had come from.

The heat and light swell around you, reaching new heights and power.

Mark sinks backwards, lifting his arms to cover his face. THe edges of his sleeves singe, turning black and smoking. His skin is turning pink then red, and he’s shouting something; you can see his lips moving, but you can’t hear him over the deafening roar of your Sun, over the immense pounding of your own heart like a drum.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spot movement.

A new threat, a shadow figure emerging from the hedge.

You ready yourself to send solar flares in the direction of this newcomer, but then you see the wonder in his eyes.

WinWin, stubbornly still alive despite the fight the monster put up, pulls himself from the tunnel still in his wolf form. He looks unsteady, holding one paw off the ground, but he’s watching you. You can see the light of your sun reflected back in his eyes. The awe and terror shining through, making his wolf eyes almost human.

With a shiver, you let the sun fall.

The darkness of dawn rushes back in. The glowing sphere falls to the ground, bounces once on the soil, and bursts like a bubble filled with smoke, the last of the glowing light rolls across the ground like fog, vanishing before your eyes.

Your body follows the sun to the ground, your knees hit the earth with a jarring thump. Your head pounds, the world wavering in the colors of dawn and darkness as you gasp for breath, all of your strength leaving you. You close your eyes, shivering and barely able to hold yourself upright, hands to the cold and damp earth. The world sways unsteadily around you. All of your nausea rushes back in, your vision fills entirely with black, and you feel yourself slipping away, untethered.

A hand curling over the back of your neck brings you back. Hot and firm, the hand on your neck draws you to lift your head.

You hear your name from a distance. Again. A tap against your cheek.

Slowly, you open your eyes, though they feel leaden.

WinWin.

Human again.

“Are you okay?” He asks, crouching down in front of you. “That was incredible.”

Mark is hunched over Renjun in the flowerbed now, feeding him a little blood, and already you can see Renjun’s slight color returning to his face.

The crumpled body of the dead creature smolders a few feet away.

“We should go,” you say, and your voice sounds faint and muffled even to your ears. “I don’t have the energy to attempt that again if any more of them come this way.”

WinWin helps you to your feet, an arm tight around your waist. You notice his other hand holds his clothes that you’d dropped in the chaos. They’re slightly singed from the sunburst, but he doesn’t appear in any hurry to put them on.

Renjun is blinking up at the sky when you and WinWin reach him. A little blood hangs at the corner of his mouth. Mark has his fingers pressed to Renjun’s pulse, brows drawn together in concern.

“He’s fine,” Mark announces. “Recovering, but fine.”

“And you?” You ask, reaching for Mark, to the burns that you can see on his arm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t consider how the sunlight would affect you. I was only thinking about making them go away.”

“I’m fine,” Mark says quickly. “Really, I’m fine.”

You muster a little smile. “You keep saying that, but I don’t think you know what it means.” Repeating his words from just yesterday to him brings a flash of a smile to Mark’s lips. “But if you insist you’re fine, then we should definitely get moving.”

Renjun brushes Mark away as he offers a helping hand up, and instead Renjun pushes his elbows on the ground to be able to sit up by himself. “You’re right. We need to get out of here. Who knows who’s coming after that light show. Appreciate it though.”

There’s a long gash across his belly, the shirt torn, but the skin beneath is healing thanks to Mark. Smaller scratches and bruises are already nearly healed on his face, arms, and neck, but there is one wound that seems to be healing slower than the rest, a large bite mark still oozing blood at his shoulder.

“I’m fine,” Renjun repeats. You and Mark exchange a look and a small smile. “We just need to go.”

As Renjun stands, you look back over at WinWin. He’s redressed in his singed clothes now, plucking at burnt bits that still cling on, but your attention slides past his shoulder to the House rising out of the darkness in the distance. Lights fill the windows, shadowed figures line the rooftop, and you can tell the Watchers are searching.

You take WinWin’s hand. “We have to go now.”

Renjun can’t run as quickly as before, limping as he takes off around a curve in the hedge wall. You don’t ask WinWin why he hasn’t transformed back into a wolf, but he’s limping as well, his lips pressed in a grimace as he keeps pace with you, so you suspect he must be injured as well. Mark has his own injuries, nursing an arm against his chest, and you don’t miss the sneaky kick he leaves against the corpse of the defeated beast.

This new path that Renjun guides the way along is tight and winding, and you quickly realize he’s leading you through a maze. And it’s clearly not one that he knows incredibly well.

He pauses at intersections, head turning back and forth between the two paths. He leads you all down a dead-end and you have to retrace your footsteps. When he leads you down a second dead-end, Mark sighs.

“Are you trying to get us lost or are we heading for the center of the maze?” Mark asks. “Because I could see this maze from our window at the House, and I swear you’re taking all the wrong turns.”

That makes WinWin stiffen beside you, his doubts on Renjun reawakened.

Renjun spins to face the three of you.

WinWin steps forward, looking so much larger than Renjun as he comes closer. He’s still holding onto your hand, making sure you’re secure.

“The fountain!” Renjun blurts, cringing away as WinWin stalks towards him. “I’m taking you to the fountain! Can’t you hear it?”

You can hear it, actually.

A soft burbling that you now remember hearing the first night on your arrival. Back then you’d not seen a fountain, and right now you don’t see one either, but it’s certainly close by. You can hear the tinkling sound of water falling, the quiet rush of it moving over a lip in the fountain.

“We’re close, but I can’t remember where the turn is.” Renjun rakes his fingers through his hair in frustration. “All we have to do is get to this fountain. It’s like the one you used to come here. Once we’re through, we’ll be safe.”

You pull on WinWin’s hand, and he sinks backwards from Renjun. “Are we going back to Hell City?” You don’t think that seems like the safest option considering that’s where the Watchers found Ten and Yuta the last time, but you don’t know where else Renjun could find that would be safe from them. They’re the Watchers; it’s kind of their whole thing to be able to see everything, to have some idea where everyone is.

“Not there.” Renjun slips around WinWin, and he brushes his hand on your shoulder. “Somewhere safer, I promise. They won’t find us there.”

He doesn’t elaborate, though you think it would be better if he did. Now neither WinWin nor Mark seem to have much trust in the elfin man as he turns a new corner, his head held high and ears perked to catch any new hints for the fountain.

You start to follow, but WinWin pulls on your hand so you fall back to his side.

“Can we trust him?” WinWin asks for what feels to be the hundredth time. “Like, what the fuck is going on? He’s not explaining anything to us, he got us out of our warm, safe bed in the middle of the night just to lead us into danger, and now he’s leading us in circles and doesn’t seem to actually know where the fuck he’s going.”

Mark lowers his head, scuffing his toes over the ground. “I like him. I want to trust him, but I saw this maze from our window. I spent one whole night memorizing it when I was bored, and I can’t tell where he’s taking us.”

“He just said he’s taking us to a fountain!” You argue, pulling your hand free of WinWin’s. “Why do you both find him so difficult to trust?”

“Well why do you find him so easy to trust?” WinWin spits back.

“Maybe it’s one of my main character faults.” You slip away from him, stepping around Mark as well. “I trust too easily. Like the night I met you, WinWin. But that night you were just trying to fuck me. Renjun is trying to save us.”

WinWin at least has the decency to look slightly ashamed.

“He’s never shown me any reason to doubt him, and he’s done nothing but help us since we came here.” You look between the faces of your two lovers. “Maybe he couldn’t help us get Yuta and Ten out, but at least he’s helping us escape. I can’t imagine the pressure he must feel with you, WinWin, constantly breathing down his neck, ready to rip into him for the slightest mistake. He’s trying to help, show some gratitude.”

WinWin stands like a chastised puppy, tail between his legs, head bowed. He’s not so used to seeing you irritated with him. Mark’s wringing his hands together in front of him, watching you with an expression that reads as hoping you don’t turn on him next but also pretty in awe of you right now.

“What?” You ask.

Mark smiles. “You’re just kinda hot right now.”

WinWin groans. “Now isn’t the fucking time, Mark.”

The vampire’s grin grows wider, flashing his fangs at WinWin. “It’s always—“

Rapid footsteps fly along the pathway, a body throws itself around the corner of the maze. You swing on instinct at the shape of someone coming at you.

Renjun ducks, dodging your fist, but slipping on the ground and landing hard on his ass. He quickly scrambles to his feet. “I found it!” He rushes through his words, eyes bright with excitement. “I found the fountain, but I also heard Watchers. They’re closer than I expected they’d be.”

WinWin grumbles something under his breath that you can’t hear, but you have a good idea that it was probably an insult to Renjun’s navigational skills.

Renjun runs off again, light footed on the path, and you push yourself to follow behind him. Mark zips ahead of you, just as agile and quick as Renjun. WinWin curses the pair of them as he limps along beside you.

“Are you okay?” The question slips out when WinWin stumbles.

“Fine,” he growls. Maybe, if all four of you survive tonight, you’re going to ban the use of that word because none of you ever seem to use it when it’s actually true. “Let’s just get to the damn fountain.”

Each corner you turn, you see Mark and Renjun disappearing around the next until at last you round the corner and find a forking path. The left fork leads on through the maze, though the path grows denser and darker, with trees throwing out roots among the hedges. The right fork leads directly to a small round clearing.

A square-based fountain sits in the middle. Black water spouts from the top, pouring down into a second tier before falling into the base. It reminds you a lot of the other one in the square in Hell City.

Mark already has one foot in the water when you and WinWin reach them. The water comes up to mid-thigh on him already, and when he throws the second foot over the edge of the fountain, taking a step further in, the black water rises to his waist.

He looks over his shoulder, eyes locked on yours. “I’ll see you on the other side.”

Mark sinks below the surface, the black water closing over him, swallowing all signs of him.

“You next,” WinWin says to Renjun, gesturing at the water.

Renjun doesn’t hesitate, leaping over the side of the fountain, sending up a spray of the black water. The droplets glimmer like bits of obsidian against the sky as the sun finally breaks over the horizon, rays stretching out to catch the droplets. Renjun too vanishes beneath the surface.

You remember the last time you did this. It felt a little bit like drowning and you’re not terribly eager to try it again. And besides that, you’re still tired. The restless night, the expended energy in the sunburst, the constant running. You’re exhausted, and now it’s the last leg of this marathon, or at least you hope it is. You’ve got to swim down and down and down until down becomes up once more.

“We can go together,” WinWin suggests. “I’ll help you. I know you’re tired.” His hand slips into yours again, squeezing reassuringly as he says, “You can help me too. My leg is a little fucked, but we’ll deal with that on the other side.”

A shout carries through the air, a booming voice calling out through the hedge maze in a language you don’t understand. A second voice answers, then another and another, and you realize that each answering call sounds a little closer.

“Now.” You clasp WinWin’s hand. “Together.”

You don’t splash into the fountain, too worried that a Watcher might be close enough to hear. You slip your legs over the edge, sliding into the icy water. WinWin steps in just as silently.

The Watcher with the booming voice calls out again, and as you hear the chorus of answering voices in the morning air, you realize that one stands just on the other side of the curving hedge nearest to you.

You take a deep breath, and you make the dive, WinWin’s warm hand in yours as the cold water bursts against every inch of your skin. WinWin sinks down with you, the black water making everything pitch black but for the faint rippling image of Purgatory’s sky and the top edges of the maze above the surface.

Now the only way to go is down.

<-previous || next–>

a/n: Another sorta cliff-hanger! Where do you think Renjun is taking them? Do you think that she’s actually right to trust him, unlike WinWin (and to some degree) Mark? What does them leaving mean for the trial, and the resulting fates of Yuta and Ten after the trial’s verdict is delivered?

As usual, likes, comments, reblogs, just generally sharing this for more people to enjoy, are all always appreciated! Thank you so much for enjoying this story, and I can’t wait for you all to read the next update in a week! 💗

#nct smut #mark lee smut #ten smut #yuta smut #nct 127 smut #wayv smut #winwin smut #nct #nct 127 #wayv #unholy

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theharrowing · 2 months

Text

Collateral 🗡️ POV: Hoseok

Hoseok lets Seokjin break him a little before he picks of the pieces between the family men. Handling everyone's bullshit is a full-time job, but Hoseok does it well.

PREVIOUS | INDEX | NEXT

❗ THIS IS A CHARACTER POV CHAPTER!!!

if you do not wish to perceive any POV that is not the main character, please feel free to skip this one!

🗡️Seokjin x Hoseok

🗡️ word count: 6.8k

🗡️ mafia au, established relationship, smut, angst, fluff, nsfw, explicit, 21+

🗡️ warnings: bottom & submissive Hoseok, top & dominant Seokjin; i don't know if i need to include "bathing one's lover" but idk it feels like a warning bc it's somewhat erotic and feels a little like body worship; shower sex (hair tugging; rough blowjob; use of the word "whore"; using anal toys to stretch oneself; rough anal sex against the wall; cum getting everywhere; mention of safeword; Seokjin's dirty talk is kind of nuts; ass eating; cum eating; a touch of aftercare); mention of drug running activities, creation of weapons, and the acquisition of firearms. some poolside making out.

🗡️ notes: mc is referred to in 3rd person (she/her) pronouns for this chapter! more slice of life, mafia style! this takes place so long ago, it feels cute revisiting this point of the story. enjoy!

🗡️ early draft beta read by @blog-name-idk - with minor unbeta’d edits done since.

🗡️ posted april 2024 - originally may 2023 | read on ao3

Hoseok's morning begins the way they often do: waking up moments before Seokjin's alarm blares. He blinks awake slowly and stretches his arms over his head, rolling away from the body over which his arm and leg had been draped, and onto his back, tugging their blood-red comforter as he moves.

A small whine escapes Hoseok's lips as his muscles tug through the stretch—a gentle hint of discomfort blending with sweet release—and as he lets out a slow, peaceful huff of air, the shrill sound of an alarm screams, making Hoseok wince.

With a grumble, Seokjin reaches and shuts the alarm off, then he rolls onto his back and quickly onto his side, wrapping all his limbs around Hoseok with his eyes barely open. Hoseok feels a warm, deep affection as Seokjin's naked body engulfs his, and he buries his face into Hoseok's neck. The hot breath that wafts from Seokjin's lips tickles enough to make Hoseok grumble and attempt to shove away despite not wanting to leave the tight warmth of his embrace.

"Ho-wah," Seokjin mutters, a familiar nickname that is hardly passable as a word, and Hoseok hums in response. "What are you doing today?"

Now that Seokjin is settled, Hoseok hooks his legs around an ankle and a hip, and he relaxes with his eyes closed while he hums once more, a long pensive sound as he considers all that he has to do today. It is not much, but events and meetings within the family rarely go as planned.

"Gotta meet Ggukie," Hoseok responds through a yawn, making Seokjin yawn, as well. "And then Namjoon. Yoongi and the cub are taking the terror twins to the gun range, so the only person unaccounted for is Jimin."

"Ah, Jiminah," Seokjin grumbles, "what has he been up to?"

"Working," Hoseok responds, though he is not entirely certain. Jimin tends to be the outlier within the family, pursuing his own goals and staying out of trouble as best as he can. It is rare that he requests assistance from any of them. "Perhaps playing. Who knows."

"I miss him," Seokjin says after a few silent seconds. "We should have him back here soon."

"You miss him, or you miss his ass?" Hoseok asks playfully.

Seokjin chuckles as he mutters, "Same thing," with a shrug.

Hoseok supposes he misses Jimin, too. The thought had not occurred before, but now that he is faced with it, he concedes. Jimin is good company, and the way his body melts in tandem with his and Seokjin's really is something special. Not to mention, his pain tolerance is impressive.

"What about you?" Hoseok asks, using his leg to pull Seokjin's leg impossibly closer. "Anything not too unspeakable on the docket?"

"Meeting with Yoongi later," Seokjin says simply, and Hoseok nods in understanding, knowing that more information likely will not come. He adds, "A brief meeting. He might have to go to Hong Kong to chat with The Tigers, so we are finalizing some details."

Hoseok is only somewhat aware of the goings on in Hong Kong with the new guys, having been given the same information as everyone else, which is that Yoongi is going to be using another crew to handle some of the tasks he is no longer interested in being in charge of. Chiefly, drug running, which Hoseok is tasked with having a conversation with Jeongguk about later. If there is one thing the youngest hates, it is change.

"Shall we?" Seokjin grumbles as he begins an attempt to roll away, but Hoseok pulls him close and hugs him tighter.

"We shall not," he whines, taking his turn burying his face in Seokjin's neck to breathe in the faintly soft musk of his skin and hair. "I still have an hour, and you evidently have nothing for a while. Stay here a bit longer."

With a burst of mocking laughter, Seokjin says, "If you want me to fuck you, just say so," and although it was not necessarily what Hoseok had in mind, the idea does excite him.

"Gotta be quick," Hoseok warns; Seokjin loves to take his time and, frankly, an hour is nowhere near long enough.

"Are you being bossy, puppy?" Seokjin responds in a sharp tone, sending a chill through Hoseok that makes his breath fall ragged.

"No, sir," Hoseok responds automatically, body relaxing as Seokjin begins to pull away from their embrace.

"How about we fuck in the shower?" Seokjin offers, voice soft and sweet, giving Hoseok's heart whiplash. "That way we can take care of both activities at once."

Hoseok likes the idea—thrilled at the prospect of having his cheek pressed against cold, hard tile as Seokjin knocks every last bit of air from his lungs.

"Yes, please," he mutters, thrilled when Seokjin sits up and pushes the blanket from the two of them, making Hoseok shiver from the air on his bare skin.

Seokjin swings his legs over the edge of the mattress and lifts his phone briefly from the bedside table, presumably to check for notifications, then he gets up and walks past the length of the bed and around the end toward the ensuite. Hoseok stretches once more before following behind, feet touching down onto a soft burgundy rug over which he wiggles his toes before quickly joining Seokjin.

He shivers when he reaches the en suite and his toes hit cold, white tile, and he quickly prances to the shower stall where Seokjin is busying himself with turning on the various overhead nozzles.

With his toes on another soft red rug, Hoseok stands and crosses his hands in front of him, arms hanging relaxed, waiting to be instructed. He loves handing over control even before they have begun to do anything. It excites him.

"Puppy?" Seokjin calls as water sprays from above and steam fills the pristine white-tiled room.

"Yes, sir," Hoseok responds softly.

Seokjin reaches for a pale pink exfoliating cloth that hangs just to his right, then holds it below a bottle that sits on a waist-high shelf set into the tiled wall and pumps a dollop of clear soap onto it.

"Come," Seokjin says.

Hoseok obeys, stepping into the steamy room to join Seokjin, standing behind him. He takes the towel and begins to wash Seokjin's neck and throat—slowly but thoroughly—before working his way down to Seokjin's shoulders. He washes the right arm first, then the left, making sure to get in between each finger and use his thumbnail to clean under each of Seokjin's fingernails.

Something about bathing his love always feels so ritualistic and calming, and it brings him comfort knowing that Seokjin enjoys it, too.

Where Seokjin stands, there is a small pad that is suctioned to the floor, and as Hoseok makes his way down Seokjin's back and torso, to his legs, he slowly sinks to his knees. He tends to the right leg and then the left, lathering soap and getting lower and lower until Seokjin lifts each foot one at a time for him to wash.

Hoseok stays on his knees as Seokjin steps away to rinse off, and when he returns stroking his pretty, thick length, Hoseok tosses the rag aside, clasps his hands behind his back, and sits up tall to open his mouth like the obedient puppy he is. Without a word, Seokjin takes Hoseok by the back of the head, gripping firmly to his hair, and slides his cock into his mouth.

The weight of Seokjin on his tongue, stretching the corners of his lips, feels like home, and Hoseok sighs happily, fighting the urge to let his eyelids flutter closed. Seokjin likes it when Hoseok keeps his gaze wide on him, and as mist from the shower gets into his eyes, he blinks it away, letting it blend with his building tears.

Seokjin fucks Hoseok's mouth, hitting his throat so rhythmically, Hoseok does his best to swallow around him to build his pleasure as quickly as he can. And it does the trick, making Seokjin squeeze and tug at his hair. Under enough pressure, Hoseok can make Seokjin cum in under five minutes—sometimes even three—and he does his best to press his luck, forgoing breathing until it makes him gag.

With a deep, needy groan, Seokjin pulls out, gripping Hoseok's hair enough to hurt, and Hoseok smirks as best as he can with his mouth hanging open and his tongue lolled out. Anger and arousal burn in Seokjin's gaze, which is precisely what Hoseok wants.

"Trying to make me cum already?" Seokjin groans, yanking on Hoseok's head, making him gasp and grin as he nods.

"Yes, sir."

"Such a greedy little whore."

"Yes, sir."

Without warning, Seokjin shoves his cock back into Hoseok's mouth and slams it deep, causing his throat to constrict and attempt to gag. Hoseok lurches as he breathes through it, doing his best to let the air pass through his nose while his eyes pool with tears. His hands clench and flex behind his back, and he blinks, keeping his eyes as wide as he can manage while Seokjin leers down at him.

"If you're so eager to make me cum, then do it. Let's see how fast you are."

Seokjin pulls out, giving Hoseok a chance to heave in air, and then slides himself back into his throat, setting a quick pace of fucking as deep as he can. Hoseok relaxes his jaw and attempts to swallow around him, fluttering his muscles somewhat frantically. It is not his best work, but it is honest work, causing Seokjin to squeeze his hair and rut unevenly against his face.

It takes no time at all for Seokjin to unravel, and Hoseok hums and moans to vibrate his throat around him, causing Seokjin's own hums and moans to grow louder and more desperate.

"So good," Seokjin whimpers, "fuck, I'm gonna cum."

Hoseok loves these tiny moments of hearing Seokjin becoming completely gone. His voice cracks and breaks, and his body spasms, handing full control for a few glorious seconds over to Hoseok, who takes over, eagerly sucking him off until his hair is being squeezed so hard, the pain in his scalp is white-hot.

Without another word, Seokjin cums, trembling as spurt after spurt of release hits Hoseok's tongue and trickles down his throat. He does his best to swallow in order to avoid the sensation tickling too much, and he continues to suck until Seokjin is overstimulated and muttering for him to stop.

"Up," Seokjin commands, voice fucked up and weak as he tugs roughly at Hoseok's hair. "Stretch yourself for me. I want to watch."

Hoseok gets up with a groan, knees having grown accustomed to being bent against the cushion, then he takes his place against the wall, face pressed into cold tile as he uses both hands to spread himself wide and prod at his hole for Seokjin's amusement. There is a shelf to his right dedicated to Hoseok's stretching ritual, and he wastes no time squirting lube onto a metal toy and working himself open with it, hissing and moaning from the stretch.

Seokjin rubs his hands up and down Hoseok's thighs all the while, squeezing at the soft flesh and cooing at him for being so pretty and perfect, all for him.

Once Hoseok is stretched around the toy—legs trembling fiercely—Seokjin stands and takes his place behind him, cock hard once more and ready for him. Hoseok loves days like these, when they do not have time to fully, properly prep him before they fuck. He loves the intense, blinding sting of Seokjin working him open, forcing him to accommodate his size.

The pain is so intense Hoseok holds his breath, quickly becoming lightheaded from the steam that wafts around him, frantically placing the toy back onto the shelf where it lives. He could die just like this and be the happiest man in hell.

"Too fucking tight," Seokjin groans against Hoseok's neck, shoving him against the tile wall as he trusts into him way too soon for it to feel good.

Hoseok lets out a weak, "Ah!" dragging his lips against the wall, which is streaked with droplets of condensation from their forgotten shower.

"No matter how much I fuck this little hole, you are always so god damn tight."

Hoseok's hands slide up to rest against the wall beside his ribs, and he digs his fingertips against the grout between tiles, desperate for purchase of any kind. But it is senseless; there is nothing to get a grip of once Seokjin sets a pace and begins using him properly; all Hoseok can do is chase his own high and hope he does not fall.

He has never fallen, yet; Seokjin would never let him.

With a slam of his hips, Seokjin knocks what is left of the air from Hoseok's lungs, forcing Hoseok's cock to uncomfortably hit the wall. The squeeze between his body and cold tile is painful—just as he likes it.

Seokjin sets a punishing pace working Hoseok open, making his screams and sobs echo loudly through the room. The white noise from the shower running behind him causes Hoseok to zone out and fall pliant for Seokjin, who allows him to rest his head back against his shoulder.

Seokjin is merciless with the way he fucks, sending waves of pleasure-pain rocking through Hoseok's body, from the base of his neck down through his fingertips and toes. Hoseok's sobs become voiceless gasps and hisses, and he closes his eyes, letting all the world fade away, leaving only himself and the ruthless, wet slam of Seokjin's hips.

Without warning, Seokjin reaches around and begins to tug at Hoseok's cock, making him scream—ripped from his warm, floaty euphoric place back to reality far too soon. It only takes a few strokes to send Hoseok to the edge, forcing him to paint the tile with his release, and then Seokjin shoves him against the tile to slide against his own goopy cum while he continues.

It is absolutely disgusting the way Hoseok's torso becomes covered in sticky release. How he manages to shoot it so high up is beyond him, but he can feel the cum against his chest, causing him to slide up and down the wall.

The painful squeeze of overstimulation takes over suddenly, and Hoseok begins to claw once more at the thin strips of grout, desperate for relief. But relief does not come—not yet. Seokjin uses him past the point of overstimulation, mocking and cooing while Hoseok begs him to finish.

"Please," Hoseok squeals as Seokjin's cock drills him painfully hard and deep, "please, it's too much. I can't—sir, I can't! Cum for me, please, please!"

Sir, I can't is not Hoseok's safeword, and his pleas go ignored, falling on deaf ears.

Rather, Seokjin just encourages him to keep screaming.

"Fuck, listen to your desperation, baby. That is gonna make me cum. Keep begging me to stop. You sound so fucking good."

The urge to revolt and become petulant rises despite the pleasure that courses through him, and the heightened emotions assist with causing his cock to expand once more. At this rate, if Seokjin manages to pull a second and third orgasm from him, Hoseok will surely be lost to the world for the rest of the day, and he needs to be coherent to meet with Jeongguk.

But reasoning with the man while he is balls-deep and mocking him is impossible. And Hoseok would be unable to find the words, anyway, already having used up his last few working brain cells to attempt to beg his lover to cum.

"Sir," he mutters mindlessly between loud sobs, instead, "please. Pleasepleaseplease."

"Sounds so pretty when you cry," Seokjin coos gently as his hips rut hard and fast.

Seokjin's fingers hold tightly to Hoseok's hips, undoubtedly adding to the dots of bruises already there. If Hoseok had more wits about him, it may even hurt a little to have Seokjin dig into past marks, but instead, the area is hot and tingling, feeling a bit numb.

"You're lucky we don't have all morning," Seokjin groans against Hoseok's neck, dragging his lips and teeth over the skin, sending a shiver down his back. "You're lucky I can't use you until you really are begging me to stop. I would gladly fuck this tight little asshole until you are inside out and falling a-fucking-part."

God, Hoseok loves it when Seokjin becomes sadistic, saying the most deranged shit while buried deep inside him. He practically changes his tune and begs him to fuck him until he is completely broken, never to be used again. He feels exhilarated and incapable of being reasoned with.

Seokjin yanks Hoseok's ass back, pulling him off the wall, and ruts impossibly faster, causing Hoseok's back to arc, frozen in pleasure while he trembles from the pain. Hoseok does his best to stay in place, feet planted on a little mat below so that he does not slide, and Seokjin uses him until his hips become uneven and he fills him with his release.

The sound of Seokjin moaning echoes loudly off the walls, voice pitchy and ripped to shreds. Hands caress Hoseok's sides and back, over his shoulders and down his arms, and affection blooms throughout him as Seokjin's hips quake and he pulls out.

As the hands slide down to Hoseok's hips and ass, Hoseok widens his stance and presses his chest once more into the wall, shivering as his skin hits the cold, hard surface. Seokjin spreads him wide and begins eating him out, licking, sucking, and prodding at his hole, pushing Hoseok close to his second orgasm.

Seokjin is loud as he devours him, slurping and humming as if his own cum is the most delicious meal he has ever had. And when Seokjin is finished, he takes Hoseok by the hips and spins him around, making Hoseok giggle as he stumbles until his ass hits tile and his cock is swallowed whole.

The sensation makes Hoseok double over, placing his hands on Seokjin's shoulders for stability. Seokjin wastes no time sucking like his life depends on it, squeezing his cheeks tight and pushing Hoseok deep into his throat. Hoseok is unable to find the words of warning, voice breaking on scrambled vowels and consonants as he shoots his cum into his boyfriend's throat.

When Seokjin releases his spent cock and sits back on his knees, Hoseok finally lets out a large gust of breath he had been holding onto. He feels exhausted and used in all the best ways, hole achingly empty.

Seokjin gets onto his feet, grabs a blue cloth from the wall, and lathers it with soap, then begins to wash Hoseok much the same way Hoseok had washed him earlier. His movements are a bit rushed, but he is thorough, and for that, Hoseok is grateful. He really could stand in this shower all day and bask in the attention of his lover. What a shame he has to meet with Jeongguk so early.

* * *

Dressed in his standard blacks, Hoseok makes his way to Jeongguk’s front step, taking the steel door knocker in his fist and firmly slamming it into the door three times. He is six minutes behind schedule, but only Seokjin and Yoongi care about tardiness. And anyway, he sent Jeongguk a text when he left to let him know he was on his way.

Jeongguk opens the door just enough to unlock it, and Hoseok places a palm over the dark wood and presses forward, letting himself in.

“Sorry, hyung,” Jeongguk grumbles as he walks quickly from the door toward the kitchen. He wears a long black tee and black joggers, and his hair is a wild, dark mess.

Hoseok snickers and kicks from his shoes, curious whether Taehyung is lurking somewhere. Then he makes his way through the mostly empty space, past a couch that is shoved too close to the television for anyone to actually sit at, and the punching bag that takes up the center of the room. He finds the youngest at the stove, stirring something.

“Have you eaten?” Jeongguk asks without glancing over his shoulder.

Hoseok grabbed a bite of a blueberry muffin that Seokjin had been enjoying before leaving, but otherwise, he had not found the time to have breakfast.

“I have not.”

“Good,” Jeongguk responds, continuing to stir.

The smell of peppers, onions, and butter wafts into his senses as he slowly and carefully has a seat at Jeongguk’s dining table. His stomach growls loudly.

“I wanted to have it done before you got here, but I was…uh…distracted.”

“Is your distraction still here?” Hoseok teases, curious because he is unsure whether Taehyung has clearance to overhear their conversation.

“He went home,” Jeongguk simply responds as he begins plating the food.

Hoseok sits back in the wooden chair and watches as Jeongguk takes out two glasses for water and one for coffee. He fills the coffee cup, leaving it black the way Hoseok likes it, and brings it over while cradling two water glasses in his other hand.

“I can help you,” Hoseok offers, knowing Jeongguk does not accept help but eager to be polite.

“You relax, hyung,” Jeongguk insists as the drinks are set down, and he returns to the counter where the plates have been left, carrying one in each hand.

Jeongguk has made omelets with a scoop of rice and kimchi on the side, and Hoseok watches with bated breath as the plate is set before him, picking up utensils, eager to dig in.

“Eat well,” Jeongguk says as he rounds the table and takes the seat in front of him.

Once Jeongguk is settled down, Hoseok digs in. He wonders if, in another life, Jeongguk would have taken up cooking as a profession. Everything is seasoned perfectly and cooked just right, as always.

“This is amazing, Ggukah,” Hoseok mutters with a mouthful of food, chasing it back with a gulp of perfectly brewed coffee. “Thank you.”

Jeongguk hums in response, eating quickly, as if his life depends on it. It is always this way with Jeongguk—he always seems in some great rush to finish his food.

Hoseok, on the other hand, takes his time, savoring each bite while waiting for Jeongguk to be ready to talk. When the youngest finally does shove his plate away with a satisfied groan, Hoseok pats at the sides of his mouth with his white cloth napkin and places it gently beside his half-empty plate.

“About this transition of duties,” Hoseok begins, winning him a petulant whine from across the table that makes him chuckle softly. He decides to tease the guy, instead. “Are you really this sour about giving up drug running?”

“It’s not about the drugs,” Jeongguk insists for what he clearly believes to be the hundredth time, based on the dramatic look of exasperation that he pulls. “It’s about—“

“The principle of the thing,” Hoseok interrupts, taking the words from Jeongguk’s lips. “You will have more responsibilities as one of Yoongi’s right hands.”

“I'm sure he needs more right hands since his current one is busy fucking his fiancée,” Jeongguk grumbles, not missing a beat.

Hoseok cannot hold back the laughter that bursts from his chest, winning him a glare from across the table. Jeongguk's audacity never fails to crack Hoseok up.

“His fake fiancée,” Hoseok corrects as he lifts his coffee to his lips and savors a warm, bittersweet gulp.

Jeongguk rolls his eyes, clearly already fed up with this conversation. And Hoseok cannot blame him; things seemed fine before Yoongi set his sights on the cub. Why he decided to complicate their lives and hers is still beyond him. The money her ex owes him is hardly enough to be concerned over—certainly less than they usually shake a man down for.

“Namjoon still performs all his duties,” Hoseok continues, feeling a sudden urge to defend his friend.

He really does feel for Namjoon—the man is so desperately in love with Yoongi, and he did struggle at first with feelings of being replaced when their little darling moved in, especially when he had to start sleeping in his own bed again. “Yoongi is simply tired of being a drug lord. He makes enough to afford a middle man, and The Tigers are a good fit.”

The Tigers are a group currently operating out of Hong Kong. Should they accept the responsibilities of Yoongi’s drug operations, they would have income flooding in. Two of their associates are stationed in Taiwan, tripling their efforts. All of this has been explained to Jeongguk, of course, yet he refuses to listen.

“I could use a hand with weapons,” Hoseok says, trying a new tactic of swaying him. Truth be told, he really could use some help with both the acquisition of firearms, the building of incendiaries, and other pleasure projects. Ryujin has been a bit too quiet these days, and if she gets word about Hyunjin, they may need to be prepared for anything.

Jeongguk hums, nodding once while avoiding eye contact, the way he does when there is something on his mind. Hoseok has an idea of what may be bothering him, but he waits to see if he will spit it out while he has a couple more bites of his cold breakfast.

When he does not, Hoseok chases the food with water and asks, “What is it?” before shoveling more food into his mouth. Jeongguk really is a phenomenal cook.

“I just…” Jeongguk begins.

Then he finally lifts his face, and Hoseok sees all essence of the man stripped away, leaving behind the wide-eyed boy he knew back when he joined the family. The look in Jeongguk's eye is one of worry, making Hoseok’s heart ache, and he sets his utensils down and places his hands in his lap.

“Nobody is replacing you, Jeonggukah.”

Jeongguk frowns. “That’s not—“

“Are you sure?”

With a sigh, Jeongguk shakes his head. Then he points his gaze, squinting at Hoseok.

“Has Seokjin hyung told you something?”

This makes Hoseok chuckle, further furrowing Jeongguk’s brow.

“Jeonggukah, Seokjin is not conspiring anything. I know you tend to be wary of him, but although there are plenty of things only he knows, he is not hiding anything.”

“Hmm,” Jeongguk responds, folding his arms over his chest. “We’ll see.”

With that, Jeongguk leaves the room, and Hoseok cracks a smile before finishing his plate of food. The sound of velcro adjusting cuts through the silence of the room, and Hoseok savors the final bites of omelet and kimchi. Then he drinks back the rest of the coffee and leaves the dining space to join Jeongguk.

He hears the sounds of glove-clad fists hitting a punching bag before he sees Jeongguk boxing—hopping lightly from foot to foot and pretending to dodge between punches.

“I meant it when I said I could use help,” Hoseok calls loud enough to be heard over Jeongguk’s fists striking leather.

Jeongguk says nothing, but Hoseok can see in his eyes that he is considering the offer. The man is smart and having someone like him on his team would be invaluable.

And, perhaps with his closeness in proximity, Hoseok can help the guy cope a little better with his demons. He thinks no longer having first dibs on all of the best cocaine in Seoul will be good for Jeongguk.

Hoseok stands a while longer and watches Jeongguk box. Everything from his stance to his strikes is calculated and precise; showmanship at its finest. Really, everything Jeongguk does amazes Hoseok, when he thinks about it.

Finally, Jeongguk stops. Even though not much time has passed, he is panting and glistening with a sheen of sweat. He rolls his shoulders back and nods to Hoseok as he speaks.

"What have you been building?"

Hoseok perks up and considers this a win, smiling to himself as he runs through a mental list of all the latest gadgets and weapons he has been in the process of manufacturing.

"One of my latest toys is a hubcap with blades that extend out, so you can ram the car next to you and slash their tires."

Jeongguk's mouth and eyes widen comically, then he blinks from his thoughts and shakes his head, laughing as he asks, "You're joking, right?"

"Nah," Hoseok responds, also laughing because Jeongguk is absolutely precious. "We've been working on them for several months."

With another shake of his head, Jeongguk mutters, "That's some James Bond shit," and Hoseok laughs even harder, bending at the waist and placing his hands on his knees for stability.

"You have no idea," he says, thinking of all the other James Bond-type contraptions and weapons he has been working on, making Jeongguk laugh harder.

Moments pass, the laughter dies, and Jeongguk nibbles on his bottom lip while his eyes trail around the room. He screws up his face the way he does whenever faced with a choice, then nods his head and says, "Alright. I'll consider joining you."

This makes Hoseok's heart soar, and he claps his hands while shouting, "Oh, good!" and making Jeongguk laugh some more.

* * *

Jinnie Might have to head to Busan and oversee Hyunjin's escape. Care to join me?

Hoseok As exciting as that sounds, I think I would rather stay home and enjoy a nice warm bubble bath.

Jinnie Preemptively scheduling a bath without knowing which day I have to leave?

Hoseok You know me, always prepared for anything!

Jinnie Suit yourself. I expect pics, baby.

Hoseok Of course, sir. ;) How was the meeting?

Jinnie Brief. Yoongi and company came back from the range drunk, and they all convened in the pool. Could hardly capture his attention for ten minutes.

Hoseok Did he forget about the meeting?

Jinnie Likely, but that's fine. I just needed the green light to start pulling Hyunjin out. I have a feeling he doesn't actually care how I do it as long as it gets done.

Hoseok Anything involving Busan is a sore spot.

Jinnie It's ridiculous, honestly. How many years will it take for him to move on?

Hoseok I wanted to speak with him, but I guess it can wait. Coming back home?

Jinnie Walking up the path right now, baby.

Hoseok Movie night?

Jinnie Sounds perfect.

* * *

Hours earlier, after his meeting with Jeongguk, Hoseok sent a text to Yoongi asking when a good time to meet up and have a little chat might be. He is surprised to find Yoongi responding, given that Seokjin said he was drunk earlier. He wonders if it would be wise to check in with his friend at a time like this.

Credits roll on The Matrix, and Hoseok sighs as he leans forward to place the empty metal popcorn dish onto the table, careful not to stir Seokjin, whose head lies in his lap; as soon as the film began, it had taken approximately twenty minutes for him to fall fast asleep.

Despite his efforts, however, Seokjin grumbles and rolls onto his back, stretching as best as he can, given he is lying on a long mauve velvet couch with his head resting on a thigh. Hoseok gently runs his fingers through Seokjin's hair, smiling at the man who blinks away sleep with a lazy smile.

"Yoongi messaged a bit ago saying I could stop by for a chat, so I think I may."

With a sound somewhere between a hum and a yawn, Seokjin asks, "Mmm—what time is it?" while curling onto his side toward the back of the couch with his face buried against Hoseok's stomach.

"A little after seven," Hoseok guesses, given it was around five when they started the film.

"What are you gonna talk about?" Seokjin mutters, voice muffled in Hoseok's black t-shirt, huffing warmth through the fabric and onto his skin.

"Just gonna touch base and let him know how my talk with Jeongguk went. I have a feeling Gguk hasn't said anything about it."

"Likely not," Seokjin grumbles.

"We've also gotten some offers from a Russian contact for some machine guns, and I am curious whether that is something he may want."

Seokjin nods and rolls onto his back before sitting up with a groan, seeming reluctant to lose the lap that so dutifully acts as a pillow. He yawns again as he asks, "Kalashnikova? Vityaz?"

Hoseok lifts his legs straight and stretches, then slides to the edge of the couch and stands, feeling the tired ache of limbs that have sat unmoving for far too long.

"My, aren't we a nosey one," Hoseok teases, avoiding the question because he does not like discussing firearms in the comfort of his home.

Stepping in front of Seokjin, Hoseok takes his face in both hands and plants quick, sloppy kisses against his cheeks and forehead until Seokjin gets frustrated and attempts to push him away.

"Excuse me for taking an interest in your work," he pouts.

Hoseok smiles and concedes, giving Seokjin space and letting him breathe. Then he walks over to the entrance, grabs a black bomber jacket from the rack beside the front door, and slides his feet into a pair of black leather loafers.

"See you soon, Jinnie," Hoseok calls, glancing back to the couch to find no sign of Seokjin—he must have laid back down.

A grumble from the couch confirms his suspicions, and Hoseok smiles as he makes his way out the door, into the cool evening air. Just to be sure that Yoongi is still available to meet, Hoseok gives him a call, making his way down the path that leads to the back gardens of the main mansion. He enjoys taking the long way.

"Ah, there he is!" Yoongi announces, bypassing any greeting, and Hoseok can already tell that Yoongi is definitely still drunk. He thinks he can hear the terror twins shouting in the background and wonders if they are all still at the pool.

"Here I am," Hoseok responds, eyes on the gravel and dirt path ahead. "I'm heading over now, assuming this is still a good time."

"Ah, I would have told you to wear a bathing suit!"

Hoseok chuckles and shakes his head despite there being nobody to see him. "I'm not in the mood for a swim, but I appreciate the gesture. Who is with you?"

The longer of the two paths that connects the two properties opens into the shrub maze in the back of Yoongi's gardens, and Hoseok walks around it, taking the shortcut along a path between the outermost hedges and the wall of trees that enclose the property. From this distance, he can see lights shining above the pool area.

"Joonie, Tae, and Ggukie," Yoongi mutters.

"You sure your hands aren't too full?" Hoseok teases as he passes through an archway, into the larger garden, walking past the Greek statues and fountains.

"Never too full," Yoongi responds with a chuckle. "You know I love to be overwhelmed at all times."

Hoseok knows all too well that this is the case; it is part of what worries him.

"Is the pool entrance open?" Hoseok asks as he approaches; there is a gate that leads directly into the pool from the garden, making it easier to get to than walking through the mansion.

"Joonie!" Yoongi yells, muffled slightly as if his hand is over the microphone of his device. "Be a dear and let Seokie in through the gate!"

Hoseok approaches in time for the large wooden door to swing open, and he stops in his tracks when he is greeted by Namjoon glistening wet with a dopey smile, wearing black swim trunks that cling to what little they manage to cover.

He has all but forgotten about his call with Yoongi, and he glances at his phone to find that the call has already been ended. With a chuckle, he slides the device into his pocket, bows his head at Namjoon, and mutters, "Thanks, Joon," as he enters the pool area.

Something sexy and downtempo plays over the speakers, and there are champagne bottles scattered from the diving boards to the pool beds that are tucked away under awnings. Hoseok finds Taehyung and Jeongguk making out in the deep end by the diving boards, with Jeongguk pressed against the wall and Taehyung looming over him. It takes a moment to notice that on the far end of the space, Yoongi is reclined in the hot tub.

"Right this way, sir," Namjoon says in a mock butler voice, guiding Hoseok toward Yoongi with a stiff, open palm, making Hoseok laugh. They walk side by side, Namjoon with a bit of a sway in his step.

"Where's the sweetheart?" Hoseok asks, noticing her absence.

"She ran off a while ago," Namjoon responds, and Hoseok notices the little grin that blooms on his face. "Got overwhelmed by too much attention, I imagine."

Oh, this is interesting, indeed. "Attention, hmm?"

Namjoon chuckles and softly mutters, "Taehyung made some offhand comment about her and Jeongguk hooking up, and I don't think she has recovered."

"Is that wise?" Hoseok asks before he can stop himself. And although Namjoon seems unaffected by the question, he adds, "Sharing with Taehyung, I mean?"

With a shrug, Namjoon mutters, "Come on, hyung; you and I have both been there before," and he breaks off to round the hot tub from the opposite side where a set of steps are, to wade over to Yoongi.

"Champagne?" Yoongi asks, and Namjoon's eyes widen as if he had forgotten something.

"Ah, right!" Namjoon responds, "I got distracted and brought you something else."

Hoseok grabs a pool bed and pulls it over to where Yoongi is reclining, dragging it until he can sit within his eye-line, then he has a seat and leans with his elbows on his knees.

"Hoseokah!" Yoongi shouts with a similarly dopey grin as he sits up, and Hoseok laughs.

"You're drunk, boss. Should we talk another time?"

Yoongi shakes his head and frowns. "More tired than drunk. But you have my attention."

Although he expects that they will be having this conversation again at some point, Hoseok begins anyway.

"Jeonggukah doesn't quite seem sold on The Tigers yet, but he has agreed to help with my team if that is something you are interested in allowing."

Yoongi hums and nods, and Namjoon says, "Seokjin has also recommended him for House of Cards, and Jimin has asked about him working the brothels. But I feel like your team could use his brainpower more than the others."

Hoseok is not surprised that Seokjin has jumped on the chance to ask for him, but he is a bit taken aback by Jimin asking for help. Jimin likes his things to be his and only his; he has rejected plenty of offers by the family men and Changbin's security crew to help in the past.

"I agree that Hoseok's team could use him the most," Yoongi says, voice sounding surprisingly clear considering how tired and inebriated he seems. "But I like the idea of him being sought after. I will find out what the others may need from him, and we can see about having him become a floater."

"I think that's best," Namjoon agrees.

Hoseok hums and nods his head; the more people are chomping at the bit to have Jeongguk around, the more distracted he may be from whatever plagues him. And he will be less inclined to let his abandonment trauma seep in and make him feel like The Tigers are stepping in to replace him.

"Alright," Yoongi says with a sigh as he begins to sit up. "I need to get out of here before I become any more lightheaded. Let's run the idea by Jeongguk, and then I am going to get some sleep."

"Sounds good, boss," Hoseok says, standing from the pool bed. All of this could have been negotiated as a phone call, but at least he got plenty of fresh air today.

Hoseok drags the pool bed back to its rightful spot and joins the others to run the plan by Jeongguk. Taehyung reluctantly stops pressing the youngest into the pool wall, and when Jeongguk turns to face Yoongi, Namjoon, and Hoseok, his gaze is fucked out, and hickeys cover his neck. Hoseok laughs, watching as the poor guy's face turns beet red, and then, after some berating from Yoongi and Namjoon, they begin their conversation.

This is nice, Hoseok thinks.

The nights are becoming cooler but still temperate enough to handle without bundling up—although Namjoon and Yoongi are shivering into towels that they have draped over their shoulders.

Despite light pollution, a few bright stars are visible as the sun continues to fully set, and everything seems…calm. Peaceful. Happy.

Hoseok holds onto this moment and tucks it away. He hopes that everything within the family can stay this good for a while.

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#hoseok mafia #seokjin mafia #yoongi mafia #hoseok smut #seokjin smut #bts mafia #bts smut #bts angst #fic: collateral

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