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Collateral 🗡️ 25: Change of scenery

Your ex-boyfriend gets in over his head working for the local mafia, and Boss Min has come to collect his payment: You.

But was it simply a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or has he always had his sights on you?

🗡️ Yoongi x Female Reader x Namjoon, Jungkook x Female Reader

🗡️ word count: 19.7k

🗡️ mafia au, strangers to lovers, graphic violence, major character injury, poly, smut, angst, fluff, nsfw, explicit 21+

🗡️warnings: soft moments of domesticity; smut & kink (masturbation/video call sex; restraints; flogging; semi-voyeurism & exhibitionism; rough handling of genitals; rough & improper bdsm practice; gentle & correct bdsm practice); 6 of the 7 members of BTS topless, wearing leather harnesses (1 of them needed to keep his composure and be in charge); a kiss!!!

🗡️note: hello, my loves. 💜 i really thought, "you know what trope i haven't written yet???" and chose with my whole chest to write a masquerade-type event. 🥴 this chapter contains some tense conversations and a lot of feelings. please be patient with our mc, she is going thru it™.

🗡️ beta read by @neoneunnajimin

🗡️ posted june. 2025 | read on ao3

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Waking up to the scent of Yoongi almost feels like a dream. You keep your eyes squeezed shut against the bright morning sun, worried that if you open them, the illusion will break and you will be lying in your bed in the hanok all alone. After all, the events of the night before feel so hazy that, for all you know, you passed out and imagined returning to a penthouse suite with the men you love.

A deep groan confirms what your heart knows to be true: the warmth to your right and the scent of musk and something fruity is not a trick of the mind. You stretch your legs, pointing your toes as a yawn forces your mouth wide. Lifting your arms to continue to stretch, you rotate toward the warmth, sound, and sun and squint your eyes open.

Yoongi, too, is in the thralls of waking up but struggling to accept his fate. He lies on his back with his eyes squeezed tight and a smile tugging at his lips. You spin and advance, draping your arm over his bare chest and burying your face against his neck. At this, he groans again.

"Morning, my love," he mutters, voice deep and raspy.

The words my love fill you with warmth, and you squeeze your arm around him tightly, searching for what to say in response but settling with leaving slow, firm kisses against his neck and throat. You feel the engagement ring on your finger and recall Yoongi's proposition. Although, in this moment, there is nothing that you want more in the world than to return home with him, you bite your tongue and keep the invasive thought locked up tight.

It takes some time to fully wake; the two of you spend a long time holding one another and stretching before settling and drifting, only to wake, stretch, and settle again. When Yoongi finally lets out a deep sigh and begins to sit up, you huff a sigh-groan in response and attempt to hold him down.

"Darling," he chuckles, "We must wake eventually."

"Eventually," you agree in a sleepy, whiny tone, "but not now."

Yoongi chuckles some more. "Unfortunately, I still have business matters to attend to. We have some real estate deals going through, and although I trust Namjoon and Seokjin whole-heartedly, I am still expected to be the face of the organization."

The organization. That's new. Something about the change from referring to the crew as his family feels…odd. Official, but in a way that makes you question whether there is more happening that you are unaware of.

"Real estate where?" You ask, attempting to placate your worries. You are genuinely curious, of course.

"Here and there," Yoongi says with a shrug. He is fully seated and lifting his arms to stretch them high while you continue to rest at an awkward bent angle with your arms around his middle and your face pressed against his stomach. "Some in downtown Seoul, some in the southern end of the peninsula. I have been planning for some time to expand my reach and build more hotels, and with Ryujin behaving more amicably, now is the best time to put these plans into motion."

You hum against his skin, your breath creating warm condensation that quickly turns to cool damp. Yoongi must laugh because his stomach bounces, although you hear no sound. You hold on tight while he begins to attempt to prise your arms off him. The mention of Ryujin does something terrible to your insides, and although you want to know more about his intentions, you keep it to yourself for the time being.

"Darling," he says, putting a fraction of his strength into forcing your arms open, fingertips attempting to unlock your hands behind his back. He is only somewhat successful, but you imagine that it is only a matter of moments before he strong-arms his way. "This is not goodbye, you know. You will come to Paradise soon. And you know that you are welcome to come home any time."

"Breakfast first?" you ask, tilting your face to flash a wide grin.

Yoongi smiles so wide his eyes crinkle, and he leans low to kiss you. Morning breath, however, causes you to bury your face against him once more. Yoongi laughs.

"Alright, darling. Shower, breakfast, and then I need to hit the road."

And with one last groan, you give in.

To your surprise, it is already after ten. The sun shines brightly in the spacious but empty suite. All the amenities you could possibly need are present, but it feels more like a hotel than a place Yoongi owns. Come to think of it, the space reminds you of Namjoon. The linens and rugs are all greens and tans, and the bathroom is white tile with brown wood and brass fixtures. The towels are white.

You stand in a wide shower with your eyes closed, tilting your face to the stream of hot water. Yoongi has scrubbed you down and works on himself, insisting that you relax and let him take care of everything. After you are properly rinsed and towel-dried, you brush your teeth and moisturize while Yoongi does the same. From time to time, you find yourself watching him in the mirror and marveling at how glorious it is to be sharing such a mundane moment.

"I love you," you say softly, watching as his fingers rub in small circles over his chin.

Yoongi smiles and glances at you in the mirror before turning his attention to you fully. He is beautiful in only a towel, nude from the waist up with his hair in dark, damp waves and his skin glowing. You wish you had the energy to strip the towels away from your bodies and sink to the floor, but the previous night took a lot out of you. Instead, you watch as he inches close, trailing fingertips over the wooden countertop while his other hand lifts to gently touch below your chin. You cannot hold back a smile as Yoongi leans close and presses his lips against yours. In tandem, you both groan softly, and your lips move in slow motions against one another, gentle and unhurried.

"I love you," Yoongi says against your lips, then places a soft kiss against the tip of your nose. "Where would you like to go for breakfast?"

Hungover and exhausted, it is hard to conceptualize food in a way that is helpful. The thought of everything is nauseating.

"I'm…struggling this morning," you admit sheepishly. "I'm not sure I can handle a full plate of food."

Yoongi hums and nods, kisses your lips softly, then your cheek and your temple. Your eyes flutter closed.

"Pastries, then?" he asks, kissing your forehead. "There is a cute French café nearby."

You nod and allow Yoongi to step away into the bedroom. You follow, and suddenly, you feel nervous about wearing last night's outfit to the café. You love the dress and the boots, but you are not sure whether it would fit the vibe of a late-morning coffee date. Yoongi, however, surprises you by wheeling racks of clothing out of the closet. Your clothing.

Row after row of dresses, shirts, and pants hang, with shelves on the bottom holding your footwear. On another rack hangs purses and handbags, and you notice a large jewelry box on a low wooden dresser that is open, containing all of your jewelry.

"Yoongi," you mutter, taking it all in.

"I know," he responds with a grin. "I am being overwhelming again. There is no need to take everything back to the hanok with you, but I could not stand the idea of you being without your possessions."

"Not overwhelming," you insist softly.

Your heart feels so full and warm, and you approach the jewelry box first, taking out the ring, bracelets, and earrings that Namjoon bought for your birthday, smiling at the sight of the dainty gold vines encrusted with diamonds. Yoongi approaches and assists with the bracelet and earrings. He appears pleased with your choice and touches you so delicately. Once you are satisfied, you move from the dresser to the clothing.

"What should we wear?" you ask, facing him with eyes full of tears.

There is a part of you that is ashamed of how glad you are to see these material things. But they are a symbol of the affection Yoongi and Namjoon have for you, and you do not take their generosity for granted.

"Well," Yoongi starts, glancing at the clothing, "being that this is not my city, I was thinking of blending in."

"Oh?" you ask, delighted at the thought of Yoongi in a sweater.

Yoongi enters the nearby closet, just to the right. It is sparse, a clear indication that he spends little time here. There are black suits and slacks, and several sweaters, most of which are black and dark blue. To your surprise, Yoongi approaches a short row of t-shirts and pulls out a white one.

"White?" you blurt, unable to hold back your surprise.

Yoongi scoffs, then removes the shirt from its hanger and begins to put it on. "I told you, I intend on blending in."

"Guess so," you mutter under your breath.

Your fingertips rub over the soft material of the towel wrapped around you. Attention turned to your clothing, you search for something casual, glad when you find a row of sweatshirts. You choose a burgundy crew neck sweater and black jeans. Then you begin to search for underwear.

Yoongi appears from the closet wearing the white tee with his towel around his hips, and you grin, not sure why the sight is so amusing but enjoying it all the same. He approaches the dresser and pulls out the top drawer, revealing undergarments for the both of you. Relieved, you find a soft pair of plain black underwear, a matching mesh bra, and short black socks. Yoongi retrieves a pair of black briefs, and you both drop your towels. You try your best to focus on the task at hand but find it impossible not to watch his lean legs and round ass step into his briefs.

"Staring is rude," Yoongi says, and you raise your eyebrows, watching as his eyes rove your body.

"Is that so?" you tease, stepping into your underwear.

Yoongi's eyes linger while you clip your bra into place and adjust the thin cups, then he returns to the closet. You slide on the stiff denim pants, doing a squat to get them into place, then sit on the bed to put on socks. Yoongi returns wearing loose-fit black slacks with cargo pockets, and you struggle to hold in a laugh.

"What?" he asks, feigning offense and looking down at his clothing.

"Here, I thought you were going to wear something other than black."

Yoongi's gaze falls to your black jeans, and you expect him to tease you, but instead, he returns to the closet, and you hear the shuffling of clothing. You did not expect him to take your teasing to heart and change, but you delight in how easily influenced he is. He must be especially eager to please today.

When Yoongi returns, he wears loose-fit blue jeans with the white tee tucked in. He winds a black leather belt through the loops, then looks up, holding his arms out by his sides as if to ask whether you approve.

"Perfect," you say, smiling as you stand.

Yoongi approaches and reaches for your zipper and button, which you have left undone. You look down, watching as he fixes your pants, and are shocked when he lifts a finger and playfully taps it to the end of your nose. You laugh incredulously, and you lift a hand to smack Yoongi on the shoulder, but he catches it and presses it to his chest.

"What has gotten into you?" you tease, still attempting to shove at Yoongi but barely forcing him to move.

Yoongi yanks you close, causing you to stumble and lift your other hand to his chest. With his free hand, he takes you by the chin and tilts your head upward. "Just miss you," he mutters before pressing his lips to yours.

You melt in his hold, swaying and stumbling slightly, finding it hard to keep your knees from giving out. Yoongi continues to hold your hand to his chest but wraps his other around your ribs, holding you close. Your fingers grip onto the fabric of his shirt and your mouth falls open as his tongue deepens the kiss.

In this moment, it is easy to forget everything that troubles you, and you find yourself once again daydreaming of a life where Yoongi is just an average man, and you are able to share an average life with him and Namjoon. You imagine running a small ramen shop somewhere by the sea with no care in the world. Only, when Yoongi breaks the kiss and smiles at you, the dream dissipates at the sight of the scar. This man will never know a normal life, and the harsh ways in which it has affected you will never fully fade.

"Ready?" Yoongi asks, unaware of your warring thoughts.

You swallow a lump of unease and nod. The two of you pick out sneakers, and Yoongi grabs a black leather jacket, ignoring the playful look you give him as the two of you walk hand in hand through the suite to the door. You observe the wide space while sliding into the shoes, remembering bits and pieces of the night before with Namjoon on the large tan couch, glancing through the glass wall to the city below.

The elevator is slow but private, and as you exit through the vast apartment lobby full of folks coming and going, you are relieved when nobody seems to recognize Yoongi. Although he walks with his back straight and head high, there is an ease to him that he does not carry in Seoul.

The café is only a couple blocks away, and although it is busy, you find a table in the far corner where you are able to see the entire space but remain away from everyone. Yoongi tells stories of past visits to Busan, of trying to get his footing here before Ryujin's betrayal caused him to back out of several real estate pursuits. And although you nod and watch as he speaks, a lot of what he says dissipates, leaving your mind. You are too distracted by how fleeting this moment feels that it slips through your fingers, impossible to hold. Also, you admit you no longer wish to hear about the family organization.

When there is a pause, you reach across the table and ask, "If you weren't in the position you are now, what do you suppose you would be doing with your life?"

The question seems innocuous enough, and you are glad when Yoongi shrugs and seems to ponder it. After a moment, however, he says, "I could not imagine a life other than the one I have been given."

Although he smiles softly, there is a sternness to him that makes you anxious to press him for more, but you do so anyway.

"Come on," you squeeze his hand, "anything in the world. What interests you?"

"Well, everything interests me, darling."

What is with his non-answers? You feel antsy suddenly.

"Alright, but—"

"What would you be doing?" he asks, lifting a brow.

Truth be told, you were not hoping to share your side of the question. This was meant as an exercise to know more about the person he is outside of the family. The organization. You turn over all number of possibilities and glance around at the café, at the people conversing and milling about, at passersby outside the large windows.

"I don't know," you finally admit, "something in the hospitality field, I suppose. I enjoy working with people and helping them."

Yoongi rolls his eyes, and you take offense even before he says, "Ah, yes, you actually enjoyed being a bartender."

"Of course I did," you mutter, frowning. "I enjoyed getting to know the customers, and it was fun making drinks and singing along to the jukebox. Those jobs are not as lowly as you think."

"I just feel as though there are better ways to help people than serving them drinks and food. You are smart enough to have studied law or medicine."

You snort out an approximation of a laugh, and when he cocks his head in question, you shake yours. "Law or medicine?" You're incredulous. "Both of those fields have a high potential for stress. You've seen how well I handle stress."

"And dealing with drunk men is not stressful?" Yoongi asks, leaning close enough that you could reach out and slap him. Tempting.

"It's not the same. Mistakes made as a doctor could kill someone, or harm them in unimaginable ways. What if I killed someone?"

"Driving while under the influence kills people. How is allowing them to get drunk any different?"

You tongue the inside of your mouth, counting down from five and doing your best not to snap. "Yoongi," you finally say through grit teeth, "you know that is not the same."

"So, law, it is," Yoongi says with a satisfied smile, and you hate how amused he looks.

You shake your head. "Lawyers also have the potential to do great harm to the public." You raise a hand at the sight of him opening his mouth. "And before you recommend I become a public defender who only serves people I believe in, the answer is still no. I don't see myself fighting for someone else's life. The job is admirable but it's not something I would enjoy. Plus, I never went to high school, so how do you expect me to study law?"

"You can quickly learn at the high school equivalent and ace any necessary qualification examination, and then I will pay for you to study at any college in the world that you desire," Yoongi responds, ignoring the petulant roll of your eyes. "Besides, darling, enjoyment comes from the money that is made. High stress should be remedied with magnificent stress relief."

You mutter, "Of course you would say that," before giving it any thought.

Thankfully, Yoongi barely looks offended. Unfortunately, he leans even closer to ask, "And just what does that mean, darling?"

After a slow, deep inhale and exhale, you lean your elbows on the table and softly say, "The drugs, the private jets, the designer clothing. The mansion out in the middle of nowhere. All of that is evidence of the extremely stressful, risky life you lead."

Yoongi scoffs and sits back in his chair, saying, "I have no stress to speak of," and you feel your anger rise.

"Maybe not right this moment. But you have." When he says nothing, you continue. "Disappearing to Hong Kong. And in Paris, with the h—" Heroin. You find you cannot say it. Yoongi raises a brow, and you shake your head, changing the topic with your voice low. "I don't care if you think customer service jobs are beneath you. I like them. I like helping people in mundane ways. I don't care about all the material shit, the substances, or the penthouses in other countries. The cost is too high. Watching Jimin nearly die…that cost is too fucking high."

Yoongi hums but he says nothing more. The silence feels overwhelming, and you lift the half-eaten raspberry danish and take a bite, savoring the tangy-sweet blend of fruit and cheese. You continue to glance around, not ready to look him in the eyes just yet, attempting to gather your thoughts.

Although you imagine that a person raised to not want for anything may feel a disconnect from the working class, you cannot stand it when he or anyone else looks down on them. A chunk of his livelihood rests on the shoulders of customer service and hospitality workers, and he conveniently overlooks that fact. Hell, you would resume bartending tonight if you thought Ryujin would give you the go-ahead. In fact, you think you will file the thought away to bring up with her later.

Once you are finished eating, the two of you walk back to the penthouse in silence. You do not hold hands, and when Yoongi opens doors for you, he does not place his fingertips on the small of your back. Only once you are back on the top floor and the front door does Yoongi approach, holding his arms open.

"Come here," he says.

You hesitate but quickly give in, shuffling toward Yoongi and resting your head against his chest. He lets out a long exhale and wraps his arms around you, but your arms hang limply by your sides.

"Sorry if I struck a chord," he says.

You close your eyes and say nothing. Yoongi's stubborn insistence that his way of thinking is the only correct way pisses you off, but you do not want to risk saying the wrong thing and ruining these final moments together.

"I need to get on the road very soon. But I cannot stand to see you upset." He takes a step back, sliding his hands to rest on your shoulders, holding you at arm's length. "What can I do?"

You shake your head, eyes falling to the shiny zipper on his leather jacket. Your mind races with the possibilities. Kiss, touch one another, convince him to go to bed just for a quickie, maybe return to the shower to wash away your frustration. But you just shrug and say, "Nothing. It's fine. I don't want to keep you if you need to go."

Lips press against your forehead, and you close your eyes, this time lifting your hands to return his hug. Your hold is loose, but he does not seem to mind. Before you know it, his touch retreats. He walks into the master bedroom, and you stay glued in place, crossing your arms over your chests. Are the two of you on such different wavelengths?

Yoongi returns dressed head to toe in black, buttoning one of his cuffs. "Shall we?" he asks, holding his hand toward the door.

You realize it is time for the two of you to leave, and you find yourself swaying between the door and the direction of the bedroom, wanting to take some of the clothing back with you.

"I will have someone deliver your things," Yoongi says as he takes your hand and gently tugs you over the threshold.

Once more, you make your way down the elevator hand in hand. Yoongi caresses your knuckle with his thumb. Your palm begins to sweat. You wonder whether he anticipated another argument and wanted to remove you from the eyes and ears of the public first, and the thought settles like bile in your stomach.

What am I doing, you ask yourself over and over like a mantra. What am I doing? What am I doing? What the fuck am I doing?

Valet brings a black sports car around, which you recognize as Namjoon’s. It even smells like him—like a bright spring morning in full bloom—and as you slide into the front seat, you remember the first time you were in this car and all the ways in which your life became tangled with his that day. Namjoon, soft and gentle and flirtatious. Namjoon using a weapon you chose to break a man’s kneecap.

The drive to the hanok is quiet. Yoongi hums a tune with the radio off, and you watch as the city shifts and the buildings become smaller. Unlike Yoongi, Ryujin has a property blocks from the action. The city butts up to the ocean, and as the car pulls onto the Ryujin’s property, you catch a whiff of saltwater and something sweet. In another life, this place could feel like home.

A security gate opens after a brief pause, and you watch as the large hanok doors open and Ryujin, tiny in the massive entry, comes stepping out in a tight little black dress and bare feet. She folds her arms over her chest and leans a hip against the doorframe, watching as Yoongi drives as close as he can and turns off the ignition.

"I will see you very soon," he says as he turns to you, unclasping his seatbelt.

Your ring sits heavy on your finger, and you watch light glint off it. It is easier than looking Yoongi in the eye.

"Alright," is all you can bring yourself to say.

Only when you catch movement in the periphery do you turn to face him. His smile is sad, scar deep and pink and giving him a hard edge. You look a bit too long before reaching up and delicately tracing your fingertip from its top tip to the eyelid. Surprisingly, Yoongi smiles, mouth breaking wide, and you lower your hand before leaning in for a kiss. Yoongi groans into the press of lips that neither of you deepens. Instead, you rest your forehead against his and frown.

"Am I making the right choice?" you utter softly.

Yoongi hums. "Only you can decide."

"Hmm." You sigh, trying and failing not to spiral. But if you constantly question your choice, can it possibly be a good one? "Come and get me if I change my mind?"

You look Yoongi in the eyes. This close, they are dark blobs, but they scrunch slightly as he smiles. "In a heartbeat, darling. You know I will."

"Okay," you say, sighing.

You remain buckled in, and the belt pulls against your clavicle, but you spend another moment breathing Yoongi's air before sitting back, unclasping the belt, and relaxing.

"The clothing," you say, struggling to make a choice. Bringing it here would make this move feel too final. You nibble your bottom lip, mulling it over, then ask, "Take it back?"

Yoongi knits his brow and opens his mouth to speak. You know that he is going to protest, so you shake your head and cut him off.

"I don't want more than the suitcase. It feels too final if you move all of those things here, and I don't want that."

As Yoongi's expression softens, so does your trepidation. You smile despite warring emotions, namely a sadness to see Yoongi go, and Yoongi smiles in return.

"Alright," he says, leaning close for one more kiss. You close your eyes for the measly second that his lips press to yours and open them as he says, "Soon, darling. I will see you soon. I promise."

With a nod, you say, "Okay," and begin to reach for the door handle. From the corner of your eye, you see that Ryujin is still in the doorway. A chill works down your spine, and you scoff, turning slightly to Yoongi. "Has she been watching this entire time?"

Yoongi looks ahead. "It would not surprise me."

"Creepy," you groan.

Yoongi chuckles. "She has always been a bit of an odd one."

Despite allowing yourself to lower your guard around Ryujin, talking about her with Yoongi still sets you on edge. She may have been a means to an end, but she played a crucial role in Yoongi's past. An intimate, crucial role. The thought of it makes you uneasy.

"I have some deals to finalize but I will be in touch," Yoongi says, leaning in to leave a kiss on your cheek. "Once my schedule is less hectic, I will have you come visit us at Paradise." He presses a kiss against your temple, and you turn to steal one more from his lips.

"Alright. See you soon, Yoongi." You cannot look at his face so you look at his hand on the gear shift instead.

“You know I love you, darling.”

You crack a smile and nod. “Of course. I love you too.”

As you exit the vehicle, you give one more glance Yoongi’s way. You struggle to hold eye contact. Your body feels heavy as you stand and get your bearings. Then a body is advancing quickly and you turn to find Hwasa running on bare feet to pull you into a hug and ask with a frown whether you need anything. In the distance, you see Ryujin retreat into her home.

You shake your head and fight the urge to laugh. Although Hwasa holds your face delicately in her hands, you manage to twist enough to find that Yoongi is still parked with one hand on the wheel and bent low, watching you with a smile. You roll your eyes and lift a hand to wave in his direction, then allow yourself to be fawned over as Hwasa grabs your hand and leads you into the hanok, tugging you straight into the kitchen for sliced fruit and filtered tap water. It is easy to forget the gaping hole in your heart when Hwasa leans close and gossips conspiratorially about how Ryujin-noona came home with her ex last night and has been holed up in her room all day, until the moment you returned home.

"Ex?" you mutter around a mouthful of cantaloupe, doing your best to chew but laughing at the wide, eager expression in your friend's eyes. "Who—" you manage to ask, but Hwasa holds a finger to your lips and shakes her head.

"Later," she whispers, leaning even closer. "We do not speak her name."

Her. Interesting. You file the information away for later and swallow the mouthful of fruit.

* * *

You: I miss you.

Kitten: I miss you more, darling. How has Busan treated you these last two nights?

You: Salty. Cold.

Kitten: Cold. :] Yes, it does get chilly on the ocean at night. How are the girls treating you?

You: Fine. But I miss my men. :(

Kitten: Soon. I promise.

You: How soon is soon?

Kitten: That is, unfortunately, hard to say.

You: :(

Kitten: Give us a call? Namjoon is pouting.

You: How could I say no? ;)

* * *

For the third time in a week, you grip onto your phone with one hand while your other hand rubs circles over your clit. You pant and gasp, coming down from your high and slowing your hand until it stills. Then you open your eyes and giggle, feeling self-conscious to have an audience.

"Incredible," Namjoon praises, fist holding his cock while Yoongi slowly uses a finger to scoop at a streak of cum on Namjoon's tan, sweat-slick tummy before lifting it to his lips.

Exhaustion covers you like a blanket, and you shiver from your sweat turning cold. Although you wear a black slip dress, the front is pulled down to reveal your breasts, and the skirt is hiked up over your tummy. You fight the urge to drop your arm, still eager to let your men see you a little longer before calling it a night. But you kick at the black comforter until it comes free from underneath you and use your feet and free hand to pull it over your legs.

"Soon?" you ask.

"Soon," Yoongi says, the same way he says it each time.

You yawn, then smile, watching as Namjoon follows suit, then Yoongi.

"Alright," you sigh. "Sleepy."

"Sweet dreams, darling," Yoongi says as Namjoon grumbles, "I miss you sweetheart."

"I miss you more," you say, doing your best to smile despite the sadness that fills you to the brim. "Night night."

Yoongi blows a kiss as Namjoon says, "Sleep sweet," and you wave while ending the call. Tears break, and you take in a deep, shattered breath, pulling the blanket high and crying yourself nearly to sleep.

A light taptaptap pulls you from the deep, dark embrace of slumber, and you grumble, doing your best to spin while calling, "Come in," unsure whether your guest has a way in but certain she must because those taps undoubtedly belong to Hwasa.

You hear the door to the hallway crack open, followed by the sounds of shouting, laughter, and music.

"Dove," Hwasa calls softly. "Did I wake you?"

You merely groan in response, only half aware of the fact that you never adjusted your dress and that your breasts are still hanging out from the top. It is a struggle to get the fabric back in place, but you do so with heavy limbs, just in time for a body to plop down onto the mattress.

"I suppose you want to stay asleep?" Hwasa asks, and you can hear the pout in her voice. She clearly does not want you to stay asleep, and if past behavior dictates present behavior, you can surmise that she is moments away from grabbing you by the arm and yanking you in the direction of the noises. This has become a nightly ritual.

"I suppose not," you concede before it becomes a game of tug-of-war. After all, what does it hurt to socialize with the other women?

You sit up and yawn, stretching your arms and back. Then you begin to slowly kick the comforter away, careful not to reveal your lack of panties.

"Need to change," you grumble, yawning once more and turning to find your pretty friend watching you with bloodshot eyes and a droopy smile. She leans with one hand on the bed and trails you with her gaze, making heat rush to your cheeks.

You slide open the top drawer of the dresser, which you have only recently organized your bras, panties, socks, and sleepwear into, leaving the rest of the drawers empty. Then you pull out a pair of panties, which you slide into as quickly as you can, ignoring the wolf whistle coming from your bed while you grab a pair of black joggers and black tee that you wish still carried the musky scent of their owner. You feel silly sliding the straps of the dress down and then putting the shirt over top, doing your best not to expose yourself, though you are not sure Hwasa would mind. Then you wiggle into the pants and out of the dress in a haphazard but successful dance.

Can she detect the scent of your pleasure hanging in the air? Without a suite of your own, you have not had a chance to wash your hands, and you are unsure whether it still lingers.

On bare feet, you pad around to where the door is open a crack, and Hwasa stands, holding out a hand for you. It feels second nature to slide your palm against hers, holding tightly enough for her to yank you around. Although the lighting in the hallway is dim, you squint as you leave the dark cave of your bedroom.

Women are sat at the dining room table, crowding the kitchen island, and dancing in open spaces in between. In the living room, there is a pile of limbs with Ryujin in the center, half-seated and gripping a green soju bottle in her small fist. She sings the lyrics to some pop song into the open end of the bottle as if it were a microphone, and in this moment, it is easy to forget everything else you know about her.

"Thirsty?" Hwasa asks as she plucks an unopened bottle of grapefruit soju off the counter on the way into the living room.

Rather than respond—or argue that soju is unlikely to quench your thirst—you allow yourself to be dragged toward the pile of women, accepting the responsibility of twisting the soju cap while Hwasa holds the bottle in place so that you do not have to bother with unlinking hands. You cradle the cap in your palm as you take the bottle and drink, and when you hand it back, Hwasa lowers the two of you onto a pile of cushions.

"There she is!" Ryujin shouts as she twists her body, causing women to adjust their limbs where they drape over hers.

You sit with Hwasa, Moonbyul, Solar, and Ryujin to your right and a couch full of miscellaneous women to the left. "Hey, noona," you say with a sleepy smile, accepting the soju once more from Hwasa and having a large, sweet gulp.

Conversation ebbs and flows about nothing at all. There is no news to share in a place where nothing changes; no drama, no gossip, nothing worth complaining about beyond the stagnation of existing in a glamorous place with seemingly never-ending chopped fruit and bottles of booze. It is not as if you will confess to what is really on your mind.

* * *

The very next night, you decide that perhaps you will voice a little of what is on your mind. After all, this life of limbs and warm bodies and hangovers is starting to wear you thin, despite how nice it is to lie so close to Hwasa, who plays with your fingertips between hers and rubs her toes against the arches of your feet.

"Noona," you say, lying back and staring up at the makeshift clouds on the ceiling that are currently glowing in shades of pink and green.

Ryujin hums.

"You wouldn't happen to need a bartender or cocktail waitress, would you?" you ask somewhat quickly, nervous to even make such a suggestion and certain that if you do not vomit all the words out in one glob, they may not come out at all. You clear your throat and, much softer, add, "At Serendipity, I mean."

Ryujin hums again, this time long and slow, pitch going up and down as if she has a lot to ponder. "I think so," she finally says, and you let out a soft sigh of relief. Her tone is laced with a hint of venom as she asks, “Why? Is our sweet dove getting bored?”

The idea that anyone could be anything but bored in an environment like this is preposterous. Still, you lick your lips, smile at the cotton clouds, and say, “Just want to make myself useful, is all.”

You think you hear Ryujin chuckle, but then she continues to coo at someone in her immediate pile.

“Gonna leave me?” Hwasa pouts against your neck, and you roll instinctively toward her.

Your immediate desire is to comfort her—to consider giving in. Her voice is so sweet, and her skin is so soft and warm. But you pout instead, turning your cheek just enough to see her wide grin. She digs her sharp, manicured nails into your ribs, and you practically squeal as you retaliate against her ribs with the hand that is not pinned under her weight.

* * *

Namjoon sighs, and you lean your face against the warm glass of your phone. It is rare that the two of you get a chance to speak alone, and you close your eyes to the dark room in the hopes of catching every minuscule sound he makes.

"Yoongi is not going to like the idea of you working there."

You pout to the empty dark, words coming out barely above a whisper. "I know…but I'm bored."

"I get it, sweetheart. We just—" another sigh. You sink deeper into your pillow. "We wish you had more options. Yoongi is still determined that you could return to school."

You grumble, "Not this, again."

"You can take classes to prepare for a qualification examination," Namjoon insists, sounding just like Yoongi. "We can buy you into any college you would like after you have the basics down."

You huff and roll onto your back, feeling the urge to throw your phone. You cannot fathom returning to school after nearly an entire lifetime of being out of a classroom. And with twenty-year-old's who are much more book-smart and determined than you are? It sounds like hell. "I'm tired of this conversation, Joon."

You feel like a child being scolded by her father, and you roll back onto your side with your phone resting against your ear. Opening your eyes, the room is dark save for slivers of gold that shine in through the window on the door that leads out to the courtyard.

"Alright, alright," Namjoon concedes. It is sweet of him to worry after you, but you are sick of it. "You sound tired."

"I'm not," you pout, but as soon as the thought crosses your mind, you yawn.

Namjoon chuckles. "Talk soon? I should go downstairs and check in on their meeting."

"At this hour?" you ask, moving your phone away from your ear to see that it is nearly 2:30 in the morning.

"Busy bees," Namjoon says, giving you nothing.

"Alright," you rest the phone against your ear and close your eyes. "I love you, Joonbug."

You can hear the smile in his voice as he says, "I love you more, sweetheart."

Your heart fills with warmth, but it is fleeting. As soon as you hear Namjoon end the call, you feel the urge to cry. Somehow, even with the communication, Namjoon and Yoongi feel further away than usual.

* * *

You stand in the mirror and take in your uneasy reflection. Ryujin places a hand on the small of your back and a hand on your chest, and she presses, straightening your posture.

“Long spine,” she says, drawing an invisible line from your shoulders up above your head. "Head up, chest forward, shoulders back."

It is not that you have poor posture. You are just uncomfortable. You exhale and straighten out, rolling your shoulders back. This appeases Ryujin enough to give a curt nod. You swallow thickly and hold back from asking how this could possibly get worse for fear of jinxing yourself.

Without having to ask, you can surmise that Ryujin plans to employ you in the VIP bar of Serendipity. You wear a burgundy vest that has been taped to your skin, burgundy slacks, and a black tie that only barely covers your cleavage. Your hair is pulled tight from your face, and Yeji does your makeup in neutral tones.

You were surprised to see Yeji enter your small room, and as she applies gloss to your slack lips, you ponder over the communication network Yoongi and Ryujin must share. Certainly, there was a blip in time when they were heavily feuding, but just how many people bounce between the houses? If Yeji is able to go back and forth, then why was Hyunjin a secret? Or is Yeji a new addition to this crew, sent by Yoongi to take care of you in Jimin's place?

“Perfect!” Yeji announces as she steps back and inspects her work.

You smile, but it feels forced. Despite how badly you want to get out of the house and make something of your time and energy, you feel less confident about this whole thing.

It’s just nerves, you tell yourself. Beginning a new job is always scary, and compounded with it being a job at a mafia-run nightclub that doubles as a brothel, the stakes feel all the higher. However, the same cannot be said for how much time you spent in Paradise. After all, Paradise felt like a second home while you were there.

Does that make the hanok your third home? And Serendipity your fourth? Are they homes at all, or simply stops on a detour?

Arms wrap around you, followed by your favorite floral perfume, and you are torn from your thoughts and greeted by Hwasa’s beautiful smile. Her makeup is done, and she wears a sheer black corset top tucked into black slacks, making you wonder whether she will be working as well.

You must wear your question on your face because she pretends to tuck hair behind your ear as she steps close and smooths her hands down the straps of your vest and down your bare arms, saying, “Remember when you would come distract me at work?”

Heat rises to your cheeks, and you nod. Were you really so distracting? You think of her and Jeongguk always turning up to flirt with you and smile.

“It seems the tables have turned,” she continues, taking your hands in hers. Your palms tingle with sweat, and you resist the urge to pull away.

“Will you be there tonight?” you ask, hopeful.

Hwasa squeezes your hands and nods, humming softly. “I wouldn’t throw our dove to the lions.”

You once thought of yourself as a wolf, but could that be true? Are you any match for lions? Surely you have proven to yourself and to everyone else that you are, in fact, a prey animal and not a predator.

Ryujin is in high spirits as she ushers you to the red SUV with a pep in her step. You, on the other hand, feel like your shoes are filled with lead. Why do you suddenly feel so much dread?

Hwasa holds your hands in her lap the whole way to Serendipity. When the vehicle pulls up, the three of you get out, and Ryujin tosses her keys to the valet man, who, upon catching them, bows low at the hips. You are led along a familiar path, through curtains and upstairs, until you reach the VIP section.

A tall man with a round face and wolfish smile eyes you up and down and then leans forward, asking, "You know how to take orders?"

Hating his tone but eager to make a good first impression, you nod and mutter, "Yes."

"She has bartending experience, and knows how to deliver drinks and schmooze with filthy old men," Ryujin cuts in, waving him off. "Give her time to settle in. She's always a little shy at first."

Hwasa squeezes your hand and lets it go, instantly filling you with regret. You bow your head, unsure to whom, then rub your hands down your pants and straighten your shoulders. Then the women disperse and the man, who introduces himself as Daesung, puts you to work.

After being given a brief tour of the space, including a small storage room filled with dishes, towels, and cleaning supplies, you stand at the end of the bar and wipe down a stack of black rectangular trays, spraying each one with disinfectant. Although you suspect these have already been cleaned prior to your arrival, Daesung does not stop you. He rambles about the type of clientele and fills you in on your duties—which are next to nothing outside of serving drinks—and you are grateful for a chance to just listen and get used to the atmosphere.

Although Serendipity is open, it is still rather early, and the booths are empty. The music that plays is the usual downtempo sexy fare that you are accustomed to. It takes you a moment to realize Daesung has stopped talking, and you glance up to find him watching you.

"Have I lost you?" he asks.

You shake your head no, then repeat his words, "It is important to memorize orders because these men are not impressed with a woman who has to write things down."

Daesung cracks a smile and nods. "Yes. Most men order the same thing each time they visit, and if they are powerful enough, they will expect that their guests will graciously accept anything they are given to drink. So, for example, business men will need to have their orders taken. However, if you see the leader of the Seoul mafia come strolling in—"

You hold in a gasp and do your best to school your features, but Daesung must clock your expression, and he pauses, tilting his head.

Determined to seem nonplused, you urge him on. "If I see the leader of the Seoul mafia come strolling in…"

Daesung seems to be trying to read you, but he gives up and turns on his toes, reaching for a bottle on the highest shelf. The label is in Japanese, and the contents of the bottle are close to full. "Everyone in his party gets a glass of our finest whiskey, served neat. You will not take his order, so you will need to memorize his face. He likes being serviced without having to ask. And this bottle is reserved only for him. If anyone else asks for our finest, they receive our second best."

"Does the leader of the Seoul mafia come in often?" you ask, keeping your expression even.

Daesung cracks a smile. "Not as often as he used to."

With a nod, you return to your task of wiping down trays. You wonder how long this tradition has been in place and whether that whiskey has any real significance. Surely, Ryujin must know. The thought makes you sick.

By the time there are men seated in one of the booths, you are antsy. It no longer feels like second nature to plaster on a smile and greet the guests, and when they mutter their drink order, you feel silly for having to ask them to repeat it. These men are clearly already drunk, and they sink into the booth with their arms outstretched, biting their lips as they eye up the fresh meat before them.

When you return with a tray of three glasses, a pile of cocaine has been dumped on the table, and the men are taking turns sniffing its contents through a metal straw. One man attempts to reach for your hand, and you giggle demurely as you avoid him to stand up straight. The moment you are out of their line of sight, your smile pulls to a frown.

It should come as no surprise that the men who come to Serendipity's VIP section are all sleazy. It is customary to have no name tag and not tell the men your name, so they call you Flower and a variation of flower types, leading the men to make all sorts of flower-based innuendos that messily allude to sex.

The men all tip well, which is unexpected, as tipping is not customary. At first, you insist that they keep their stack of won, but then you begin to collect it, splitting the earnings with Daesung. By the time there is a lull in your work, you lean with your back against the bar and watch from afar as the shadowy figures on the dancefloor grind and sway under flashing lights beyond the VIP railing.

"So what's your deal?" Daesung asks, wiping water spots out of clean glasses with a dry rag. "Why is the owner of the bar bringing you by and announcing that you're the new girl without warning?"

You shrug. It is really none of his business why you are here, and you haven't given this line of questioning any thought.

"Needed a change of scenery," is all you can think to reply. This wins you a chuckle-grunt.

"Alright," he says, leaning close, "keep your secrets then."

You crack a soft smile as he walks off.

* * *

The trouble with sleep paralysis is that you are always just conscious enough to feel the full brunt of the fear that gets closer and closer, covering you like a dark spirit in the night, suffocating you as the air gets trapped in your lungs.

When you finally wake with a gasp, you sit up, wrapping your arms around your ribs and hugging yourself tight. The late morning sun shines through gauzy blinds, and it is enough to make you squint your eyes closed. For just a moment, you are hazy enough to think that the strong, warm arms of Yoongi or Namjoon are going to wrap around you and gently tug you back into the safety and warmth of the bed.

"Dove?" Hwasa asks so soft and so sweet, and a wave of sadness crests and crashes so fast that it causes you to hiccup. Yoongi and Namjoon are miles away.

Small, warm hands gently grab your face, and you feel the press of a forehead against yours. Hwasa wipes at tears you hadn't realized you were crying, and when you open your eyes, hers are wide and worried, centimeters away.

She holds you as you catch your breath and allow your surroundings and circumstances to fully settle around you. In this moment, you could easily lean forward and press your lips to hers. In another life, you would do so without giving it any thought.

"Come back to sleep," she says, and you nod.

You allow yourself to be tugged back down to the pillow, and you close your eyes as she wraps her arms around you and pulls you close, forehead to forehead.

* * *

It is around 3:30 in the morning when a man reaches for your wrist and attempts to pull you close. Luckily, he is drunk, and his clammy hand slides away the moment you react and jerk your arm back, but you worry about possibly angering him as he sits up straight, wobbling slightly and assessing you.

"Come on," he mutters, spittle flying from between his pouty lips. "Don't be a fucking prude. I pay well. I can show you a good time in one of those expensive little suites downstairs."

Feeling all politeness drain away, you simply bow your head and leave the table. Although you have been encouraged to cut men off when they seem too drunk, you hope that this man dies of alcohol poisoning.

Daesung must clock your mood as you approach, and he drops his rag and walks to your corner of the bar, asking, "Need me to throw anyone out?"

It is only your second night on the clock, and you are already tired of coming to this place. You shake your head, knowing that the actions of that man are likely normal around here.

"Just questioning my life choices," you say, watching as the other cocktail waitress greets some men with a bow and shows them to a booth. Although it is not customary to have two cocktail waitresses on a shift, you were relieved when she did not lose her hours for the sake of you showing up. She even seemed somewhat relieved to have backup when the two of you were introduced.

"I'm surprised someone as timid as you wanted to work here at all," Daesung says, and it makes you scoff.

"Not timid," you say, although you do feel as if all confidence has been sapped from you since stepping foot in this building. You search for a better descriptor, but none comes. To your surprise, Daesung seems to be waiting for you to continue.

Daesung has a welcoming round face when he smiles, with full lips and narrow almond-shaped eyes. Although he does not hide his feelings well, showing every modicum of disdain and sarcasm brightly, he also seems warm and kind.

"Just not the environment I am used to serving in," you say as three more men enter the VIP space. You notice Daesung stand a little more alert but ignore it to add, "I'm used to the dive bar crowd."

"Sir," the other waitress says, bowing deeply at the hips. She keeps her head down while pointing her arm toward the booths. "Please, follow me."

However, one of the men seems to have spotted you, and he cocks his head to the side while openly gawking. "I'll have her serve me," he says, eyes still on you, and when the other waitress looks up, she seems surprised.

"As you wish," she says, bowing once more and scurrying in your direction. "Chaebol. They sit in the last booth," she mutters as she reaches you.

Something about the way the man watches you has all of your alarms ringing, and you swallow thickly before walking forward and holding out your right arm. "Right this way, gentlemen," you say as you begin to walk. The other waitress made a show of bowing to these men, but you see no reason why you should care so much.

There is commotion behind you, muttering and scoffing that is barely heard over the club music, and you do your best to ignore it. At the final booth, you step as close to the wall as you can, giving the three men their space to sit. Two of the men do so, but the third continues to stand, and you reluctantly meet his eye. He is middle-aged with deep pores and frown lines. There is a familiarity in the way he looks at you, but you are certain you have never seen this man before.

"Name?" he asks.

You bow your head and motion to the table, saying, "Please have a seat, sir. I will have your drinks in just a moment."

"How do you know what we drink?" the man asks.

You take in a slow breath, doing your best to keep your composure, and say, "My associates know and they have undoubtedly already prepared what you desire."

The man steps close, blocking you in against the wall, and you feel the urge to leap over the railing to the dancefloor but know that you are likely not agile enough to stick that kind of landing. There is booze on the man's breath as he asks, "And what if I'm in the mood to try something new tonight?"

"Are you, sir?" you ask, eyes locked on his.

The man smirks, licks his bottom lip, and takes a step back. Passing his palms down the front of his jacket, he says, "I know I've seen you before."

"I'm new here, sir," you say, doing your best not to panic.

Between your years spent in brothels and your fairly public relationship with the kingpin of Seoul, you wonder whether it is possible that this man has seen you before. Knowing nothing about the business deals Yoongi makes and who he makes them with, a man with enough wealth and status to be here could pose a great risk, and you feel foolish for not realizing that sooner.

Without another word, the man has a seat. He turns to begin talking with the other two men, and you quickly make your way past the other booths, not bothering to glance in and see if any of them need anything. By the time you make it back to the bar, you are shaken and doing your best to keep your breathing in check.

Daesung cocks his head and mutters your name, and you shake your head, saying, "I'm fine. What do they drink?"

On a tray on the bar are three glasses of clear liquid and an open bottle of sake. You are relieved that they will be serving themselves for the time being and take the drinks down to the booth. None of the men so much as glance at you while you set down the three glasses and bottle, and as you check on the other booths, everyone is fine. You keep your guard up, however, not letting it down until you are all alone, standing under the hot stream of Hwasa's shower.

* * *

It is strange the way some nights you feel bulletproof and others you feel meek and cowardly. Your first week at Serendipity is no walk in the park, but you surprise yourself with how thick your skin becomes when your hackles are raised. You forget about everything that exists outside of Serendipity because it is easier to compartmentalize. Hwasa is always somewhere in the building, and you hold onto the notion that she is nearby in order to push through the early morning hours and make an exorbitant amount of cash for very little actual work.

Daesung has taken to sneaking you shots of soju and Japanese whiskey to loosen you up, and you find that it makes tolerating these men so much easier, especially as the clientele become progressively drunk and bold. Although there are rarely women in these booths, the ones you do spot seem like hookups that will eventually end up down in the basement or mistresses who are being shown a good time. It is rare that a booth will be clean of drug remnants after a party leaves, and twice, you have found used needles wedged in the seats.

If you allow yourself to think too long and hard about how these people are operating and all the people they may be putting at risk with their behavior, you begin to hone in on your place in it all and the danger you pose to society. So you simply do not. Numbness is the game.

Ryujin mentioned tonight, as she was dropping you off, that Yoongi has requested you and the girls make a trip to Seoul tomorrow, so that is all you have been able to think about. There is an event at Paradise that Jeongguk and Jimin have been preparing, and they want you there for their opening night. All you have been told is that it is masquerade-themed.

You allow yourself to imagine what kind of mask you might wear, as well as an outfit. Have one of your men chosen the perfect gown, or will Ryujin and her women be in charge of dolling you up? The possibilities are overwhelmingly endless, and you circle the lip of an empty shot glass with your fingertip as you imagine.

The sounds of shoes walking into the VIP space pull you from your thoughts, and you stand up tall and turn, keeping your face as unreadable as possible. You recognize the man as the same one who was here with two others several nights before, and you steel yourself for his booze breath.

"Sir, welcome back," you call with a bow of your head, not willing to kiss his ass and bow at the hips the way your coworker has.

Behind you, Daesung sets a glass on the bar, and you twist to take it in your hands, then follow the man to the booth all the way in the back, giving him enough time and space to sit before you approach.

As you set the glass down, you begin to ask, "Just you tonight?" But he cuts you off.

"Kaori, do you really not recognize me?"

It is as if ice water has been dumped over your head, and you instinctively take a step back, asking, "Sorry?"

"Don't play coy," he says as he takes his drink in one hand, leaning with his elbow against the table. "I've always wondered where you ran off to. Rumor has it, you were the one who killed Seungri-hyung."

Swallowing thickly, you compose yourself and force out a laugh. It does not sound wholly believable to your own ears, but you laugh again for good measure and shake your head. The man's smile begins to straighten and twist as you say, "I'm sorry, sir, but you must be mistaking me for someone else."

He shakes his head, angry, and you take another step back. The dance music thrums through the bottoms of your feet, and in the dark stretch of balcony that overlooks the rest of the club, you feel disoriented.

He appears red in the face, but perhaps it is just the club lights. Spit flies as he says, "I know it's you!"

You are certain that if you stay a moment longer, you will lose control and probably vomit all over this man's table, so instead, you bow your head and excuse yourself, thankful that he does not follow you. Daesung looks concerned as you come around the corner and run behind the bar, searching for your phone. You squat low as you call Hwasa, thankful that she picks up and does not sound occupied.

Hwasa agrees to check on the man during the twenty minutes it takes for the other server to arrive and clock in. You down a shot of whiskey, bid the others farewell, and rush out the door without a glance back. So long to another job.

* * *

Your hands tremble as you put on the final touches of your outfit for Paradise. Despite arriving to Seoul in the early afternoon, after barely catching any sleep, the women have been adamant about not allowing you to see your men until tonight. Ryujin, in particular, seems to be frothing at the mouth over the idea of dolling you up for Yoongi, which is odd, but you feed off of her energy and follow her lead.

As you face the full-length mirror with your arms at your sides, Hwasa paints streaks in your hair—which has been pulled back and pinned up by Yeji—with silver and gold glitter mascara. Ryujin blends concealer around the edges of your lips, which are glossy and red, giving them a doll look, then she sets the makeup aside, takes you firmly by the chin, and forces you to look her in the eye. The movement startles you, but you stay calm, trying to find a hint of malice or anger in her eyes.

After a tense moment, she smiles and then sighs dreamily before pressing her lips against your cheek and letting you go. Hwasa remains on the other side of you, delicately painting your hair, and you fight the urge to lick your glossy lips and swallow thickly, doing your best to smile in return.

"I'm so proud of you, my pretty darling," Ryujin says as her lips fall into a frown.

Her eyes are glassy and red, and you realize that she must be high.

"I know that I have no business feeling so attached to you after all that has transpired," she continues, taking your hand in hers and lacing your fingers together. "Things have not always been easy, and I have made some choices that I regret. But I do not regret knowing that you and Yoongi-oppa have each other."

All you can do is nod, and you try your best not to show just how uncomfortable this conversation is making you. Thankfully, one of Ryujin's women enters the room holding onto masks.

"Ah, the pièce de résistance," Ryujin says as she takes one of the masks and holds it up to your face. It is black and appears to be made of leather, painted delicately, with bone antlers sticking out. A fawn. Although the mask itself has cute little ears and a round little snout, it is masterfully crafted and not at all childish.

Your lips tug into a hint of a smile, and you try not to laugh. You wonder whether the others will be animals, as well. Surely, they will all be apex predators.

The mask is set aside as you take one last look in the mirror. A black lace corset with leather cups and boning lifts and squeezes you in a way that has your posture permanently tall. You wear pasties over your nipples in the shape of thick black x's so your nipples do not rub against the leather, a short black satin skirt with lace trim that falls mid-thigh, and a pair of Ryujin's black strappy heels. And, to bring the outfit together, and because you are feeling sentimental, you wear the engagement ring, as well as the ring, earrings, and bracelets from Namjoon.

The rest of the women wear black slacks and matching corsets, except for Hwasa, whose black leather skirt is short and slit up both sides. All of the women seem to have various bird masks, making you the only mammal in the group.

Hwasa takes your hand and leads you through the penthouse hotel suite to the elevator. You breathe deeply, holding tightly onto the fawn mask, eager to see your men. You miss Namjoon the most fiercely these days, but truthfully, you cannot wait to see all seven of them. Yoongi and Namjoon have both been busy and have not been as available for calls as you would like.

Yoongi has been saying, "Something big is in the works," for days, but he will not say more than that, and it makes you nervous. You know that perhaps he cannot divulge all of his plans over the phone, but you wish he would give you a little bit more. You feel antsy. Yoongi promised you would see him soon, and you did not expect "soon" to be two long weeks.

As you slide into a black rental car, you breathe deeply. Hwasa squeezes your hand while her mask rests on the seat beside her.

"Nervous?" she asks, and you emphatically nod yes, worried that if you open your mouth to speak, you will cry.

It feels a bit foolish to be this anxious after only two weeks, but there have been so many other weeks and weeks; so much distance that feels impossible to close. What if, while you are off flouncing around with Hwasa, Yoongi and Namjoon lose interest in you?

As the car pulls up to Paradise, Hwasa turns and takes your mask, then gently places it over your face. You lift a hand to hold it in place as she sits tall and close and ties the ribbons around your head.

"Our beautiful doe," Hwasa says, and you do not correct her. Doe sounds better than fawn.

You help Hwasa with her bird mask, which has a delicate beak and cute leather feathers on the sides. She smiles wide as you assess the mask and center it on her face, then she pulls a small gold vial from between her breasts and begins to unscrew it. Without a word, she snorts two bitter piles of white, and you do the same, screwing the top shut and handing it back. Once it is securely in her cleavage, she opens her door, takes your hand, and pulls you out onto the sidewalk.

The music blaring from inside is bass-heavy and sexy. Mixed with the scent of leather that sits permanently at your nose, you feel a strange sensation. You take one deep breath and walk forward with your head held high, feeling a little hidden behind the mask, which helps to boost your confidence. The sounds of heels clicking in tandem rings out as you and Hwasa pass the security guard, who bows deeply, and head straight to the bar off to the right. Women spin on the poles, and men dance in cages, but all you can focus on is finding your men, which may prove to be a harder task than usual, given that everyone's faces are covered.

At the bar, Hwasa orders the two of you whiskey sours, which you accept without complaint. As the bartender mixes them, Hwasa turns to you, drapes her arms over your shoulders, and begins to sway her hips. Your hips make shallow movements; you always feel shy about dancing with her. Still, she giggles and delicately scratches at the back of your neck with her sharp fingernails, sending a shiver along your spine.

Only when the bartender sets two drinks down does Hwasa move one of her arms, but she slides the other down your back, hooking it around your waist and pulling you close. You hear Ryujin arrive because she shouts something incoherent, causing you to turn in time to watch her pull out a band of won and rain notes down on the dancers. At least the men will know to look for you, knowing she has arrived.

Judging by all the skin the patrons and employees are showing under leather straps and small swaths of lace, you surmise this must be a fetish night. There are sounds of leather hitting flesh and cries of pleasure, but from where you stand, you are unsure whether there is a live demonstration or if the sounds are part of the music. Hwasa must hear it too, because she takes your hand and tugs you toward the stairs that lead up to the VIP lounge. Although there is a security guard, he simply stands with his hands at his sides as you make your way up, tugged along and doing your best not to trip in your borrowed heels.

As soon as you reach the top, you find a wooden x in the center of the space. A woman is strapped to it, with her hands above her head and her legs spread, and she wears only a black thong. A man in a bear mask whips her with a leather flogger, and each time it brushes against her skin, she jolts and cries.

"I want to do that," you mutter somewhat mindlessly, making Hwasa squeeze your hand and squeal with delight.

You wonder whether the man in the bear mask could be one of your men. Taehyung, perhaps. But as you watch him whip the woman, you realize his body is not quite right. Taehyung is stronger and somehow softer. Heavy blinking, you realize the drug has you fixating on silly things, and you take your gaze off him to glance around the room. There are plenty of patrons in this space, but nobody looks familiar enough. Still, you study the lips and muscular structure of all the men. Shockingly, most of the people up here are fully dressed or wearing less revealing gowns and slacks.

Determined to run into someone important, you turn and make your way back down the stairs, leaving Hwasa, who makes a feeble attempt at trying to get you to stay with her. You stop halfway down the stairs and scan the room as well as you can, but all you see are bodies and masks, all dressed in black.

That is, until you spot a tall, lean man with broad shoulders wearing a large wolf mask. You decide this man must be Seokjin by the way he points his fingers and gives orders, and by the way he is still dressed from head to toe, leaving absolutely everything to the imagination. Scantally clad employees carry trays of drinks, finger foods, and what you can only imagine to be jewelry boxes full of drugs. His authority makes you question whether he could be Jeongguk, as he is supposedly the one in charge of this event, but his side profile, even with the mask, is absolutely not Jeongguk.

As you approach, he must notice you because he turns his body and opens his arms wide. "Our fawn," he says, smiling his pouty lips wide. "You made it."

What a relief that the mask you have been given seems to be unique and therefore recognizable. You step into Seokjin's arms and wrap yours around his waist, careful not to spill your drink. His cologne is warm and familiar, and you momentarily close your eyes.

When he pulls from the hug, you take a step back and glance around, asking, "What are you doing, commanding everyone?" You take a long, slow swig from your drink, already eager to have it out of your hands. The ice-cold whiskey and bittersweet mixer make you shiver.

Seokjin waves his hand dismissively. "Our Jeonggukah has his hands full. Jiminah is still recovering, so he does very little."

You nod and glance around once more. You wonder if perhaps those two might be found in the office, and suddenly, there is a tug pulling you in that direction.

"Look for the wolves," Seokjin says, and you nod. Easy enough.

You depart from Seokjin and walk first toward the bar, sucking your drink back way too fast for your own good. With the empty placed on the bar top, you turn toward the office, walking past the stages and cages. You almost miss the wolf mask in the furthest cage, near the far wall that opens into the hallway, and you stop abruptly in your tracks, glancing up. Tattoos on his hand and wrist tell you all you need to know, and as he steps close and squats down, you realize your mouth is hanging open, and you are on the brink of drooling. This is not what you imagined when Seokjin said Jeongguk's hands were full. Perhaps it was a mistake to drink that whiskey so fast on an empty stomach as you stumble slightly forward.

Sweat streaks down Jeongguk's bare torso, and his slacks are unbuttoned, showing a preview of red satin. You lick your lips and grin, feeling the remaining dregs of cocaine kick your pulse rapidly into high gear. Jeongguk reaches a hand from between the bars, takes you roughly by the back of the head, and pulls you close, slotting your lips together as you scramble and grab onto the cage bars. You wonder if he is high or if he is simply this happy to see you. With the masks, the two of you can be as bold as you would like, and so you do not resist him.

Jeongguk tastes like whiskey and cigarettes, and you moan as you drop your mouth open, inviting him to deepen the kiss. However, he nips at your bottom lip, leather noses rubbing together as he smiles before letting you go and standing straight up. The motion makes you feel dizzy and petulant, and you want to whine for more, but the reason for Jeongguk's absence approaches in the form of two shirtless men closing in on either side of you.

To the left, a black dragon tattoo greets you, and to the right, paler skin littered with scars. Both of your men wear black leather harnesses that run over their shoulders and wrap around their waists, and both have on the tightest black denim pants you have ever been blessed to witness, with leather thigh harnesses that cause your eyes to wander.

"Darling," Yoongi says, stepping in close and taking your chin in his hand. Around his neck is a thick gold Cuban chain necklace encrusted in diamonds, and you fight the urge to lift your fingers and feel its rough surface.

Namjoon's lips find your shoulder and suck hard enough to pull the air from your lungs. You moan softly and sink into the feeling just as Yoongi licks over your lips and moves his lips and teeth to your throat and neck, claiming your other shoulder.

"So this is how it feels to be caught and devoured," you whine to your wolves, body trembling with pleasure as lips, teeth, and tongues leave traces over your skin.

"This is nothing," Namjoon all but growls.

You are tempted to say to hell with this party and demand to be taken downstairs, but the familiar click-clack of boots pulls you from your reverie, and you open your eyes to find Jimin approaching. Although he also wears a mask, his lithe dancer frame is unmistakable. He is also shirtless, wearing black leather straps and tight black jeans, and his lips are blood-red and glossy.

Jimin swats Yoongi away, making Yoongi grumble and chuckle, then he pulls you into a hug. You crash into Jimin, leaving Namjoon behind to pout, and wrap your hands around his waist, pulling him close. He smells like midnight in the center of the ocean under a blanket of shimmering stars, and you hold in tears, still so grateful that he is okay. Although you refuse to cry, you do sniffle, and it is enough to make Jimin push you with both hands against your shoulders until you are at arm's length, staring at his frown.

"I'm sorry!" you say with a grin at the same time he says, "No fucking crying!"

Two more topless men in wolf masks approach, and you surmise that one must be Hoseok—with his heart-shaped pout, wearing a burgundy harness over his lithe torso—and the other must be Taehyung, as he is taller, broader, and much more tan, flashing a rectangular grin. You wave hello, and the two of them bow their heads. You want physical contact, even from Hoseok, but if he is not as eager to hug you, then you suppose it is best to keep your distance.

Taehyung, however, opens his arms wide, and you welcome his spicy cologne and warm skin. As you pull out of the hug, he holds up a flogger, similar to the one you saw upstairs, only this one has red leather braided through the strips of black, and there are pretty red leather roses adorning the different tails.

"Care for a show?" Namjoon's deep voice comes from your left, causing you to shiver. Fingertips trace up and down your arms, and you almost feel high from his touch.

You nod, turning your head but bumping one of your bone horns into some part of his mask, making him chuckle. Jeongguk opens the cage from the back and slides out, shutting it tight. Then he approaches Taehyung and runs his nails down his torso, along black straps of leather, grinning like a madman.

"Upstairs," Taehyung instructs, and everyone nods.

As you turn, several hands and arms find you. It feels good to be this fawned after and desired, and you find yourself returning back to that silly old thought of staying in Seoul for good. Perhaps you should allow Yoongi to buy you an apartment and hire a security team. But how long would you last before feeling the need to crawl back into his bed permanently?

More people seem to have entered the building in the short time you were at the dance cage, and you fear you may have to twist and tilt to walk through the crowd, but it parts eagerly for the tall, handsome men in wolf masks. Near the entrance, Seokjin remains statue still with his arms folded, and he nods as the group of you walk by, leaving Hoseok, who stops to whisper something into his ear. You notice that Seokjin's wolf mask is much larger than the others, and it has a row of teeth.

"Why is Seokjin in charge?" you ask, but nobody responds, and you turn to make your way back up the stairs.

"Party's over," you hear Taehyung call, "wolves, deer, and birds only."

Some grumbling can be heard as patrons gather their belongings and bow to the men. They shuffle down the stairs, and you catch a lot of cat, dog, and various rodent heads turning toward you, but you think nothing of it. A great deal of planning must have gone into this night, and you wonder whether each mask has been hand-selected by the men or whether each was simply approved by their team. But these are questions for later. As you watch Jeongguk step out of his slacks and approach the wooden x, all other thoughts dissolve.

Hwasa is seated on a cushion on the far end, head tilted and smiling excitedly as Jeongguk lifts his hands and gets strapped in. Even with the mask on, you can see her wide eyes. You feel drawn to her, eager to sit close and breathe her perfume, but the fingertips on your arms and hips belong to two men who command your attention.

Taehyung has squatted before Jeongguk, strapping his ankles to the wood. Once each strap is secure, he scratches his fingernails along Jeongguk's achilles tendons and over his muscular calves, causing Jeongguk to tremble. Then Taehyung stands, takes Jeongguk tightly by the hair in one hand, and slaps his ass hard with the other. The sound cracks out like a lightning strike, and Jeongguk moans loudly. You feel a rush of anticipation and lean against the bodies behind you that touch so eagerly.

"Do you like watching our Jeonggukah get tortured?" Yoongi asks from your right.

You nod and smile, but the answer must be unsatisfactory because a hand firmly grabs your chin. Without being prompted, you say, "Yes, sir," earning you a pleased chuckle.

Taehyung grabs the flogger he had earlier from a small wooden table along the railing overlooking the rest of the club. You glance over the railing and notice a crowd of people below, some watching the dancers but many staring up in this direction. In the distance, you see Jimin standing with his arms crossed, seemingly assessing the patrons, but your gaze continues to notice all the heads turned in this direction.

A chill works down your spine, and you turn back to the scene of Taehyung delicately dancing the tips of the flogger tails along Jeongguk's back. With his arms over his head and his legs spread, creating the shape of an x, his muscles are taut. His ass, in particular, looks like a shiny red apple, and you feel the urge to have a bite.

Taehyung grips Jeongguk's short dark hair and tugs, extending his arm so he can stand far enough away to strike Jeongguk's shoulders with the flogger. Although the strikes are light, Jeongguk's entire body shakes. Gradually, Taehyung works his way down the length of Jeongguk's back, gently whipping his ass and making it jiggle. Then he releases Jeongguk's hair, runs his fingertips along the length of Jeongguk's spine, and strikes him hard.

The crack of leather against skin met with the cry Jeongguk lets out causes your nerves to alite both with desire and fear. You presume that Taehyung would never truly hurt Jeongguk beyond his limit, but as he whips again and again, hard and harder yet, red marks form, and Jeongguk trembles, fists clenched over the leather straps that hold him, and it truly appears as though he is in pain.

Gently, Taehyung strikes Jeongguk, turning the flogger over and over in circles and making the tips of the leather tails kiss his sore skin. Jeongguk trembles and jolts even from the most delicate touches, and you feel the urge to console him.

"Fuck," Jeongguk groans, making you stand somewhat alert.

Fingertips continue to trail over your skin and along the lines of your corset, and you feel a bit guilty for how captivated you are by the man who is not touching you. But the sight of Jeongguk in pleasure and in pain is far too exquisite to ignore.

"Darling," Yoongi says, as if reading your mind. "You should stand in front of him."

"I agree," Namjoon says. "I bet seeing you but not being able to touch you would drive him insane."

You nod and grin, stepping away from your men and approaching the wooden x. There are several feet in between Jeongguk and the wall, so you step around into that dark, empty space. Jeongguk's eyes are closed, so you say, "Hey, baby," feeling your heart flutter as they open wide.

Jeongguk's pupils are blown wide, and sweat drips from his mask. He licks his lips and juts his chin out, but you are too far away to tempt him with a kiss. You watch as he is whipped, soft and soft, and hard and soft, in no particular pattern. Jeongguk looks incredible with his eyes glassy and his mouth hanging limp. When he grimaces in pain, and all his features scrunch up, you feel the urge to reach out and console him.

It is impossible not to imagine the Jeongguk who fucks you so good, especially from all his little sounds. As his face screws up from pain and pleasure, you step closer, eager to touch. But you feel you should get permission first, so you glance around the x, eyes falling to Hwasa, who remains on a cushion, before looking over to Taehyung.

"Sir," you call.

Taehyung whips Jeongguk hard enough to make him squeal, then says, "Yes, doll?"

"May I touch Jeonggukie, please?"

"Of course you may," Taehyung smiles, "especially because you asked so sweetly."

"Thank you, sir," you call as you lift a hand and dance your fingertips along Jeongguk's arm.

Taehyung cracks the flogger against Jeongguk again, earning him a moan, then he says, "You may tease him, but you are not allowed to make him cum."

"Yes, sir," you say again, then disappear behind the x. With your left hand, you reach between the wooden beams, pleased to find Jeongguk's cock is rock hard and leaking.

Jeongguk lets out a moan that is deep and gruff, punctuated by a sob, and you squeeze slow and firm, curious what other delicious noises he can make. You attempt to find a rhythm, squeezing and releasing in the off-beat of Taehyung's whips. Precum wets the thin fabric that covers him, and you twirl the end of your thumb over the tip. You want to drop to your knees and take him into your mouth, but you are eager to obey Taehyung.

The look in Jeongguk's eyes is desperate and something else—something dark and sharp, scary almost. You lick your lips and smile.

"Does it feel good, baby?" you ask.

Jeongguk scoffs, then grimaces. "Feels so good," he says through gritted teeth, grimacing again. "Would feel better with those pretty red lips around it, though."

"Around what?" you ask with an innocent smile, giving him a squeeze.

Jeongguk groans, mutters something unintelligible, then says, "Around my fucking cock, dollface."

You bite your bottom lip, trailing your fingernails over his length. "I would like that," you say.

Abruptly, the whipping stops. It takes Jeongguk a moment to sigh and relax, but his gaze stays sharply on you as if he has plans on pouncing the second his limbs are free.

"Doll," Taehyung calls.

You step back and glance around the x, smiling at Yoongi and Namjoon, who stand together like two proud parents with their arms slung around one another's shoulders and hips. You turn your gaze to Taehyung and say, "Yes, sir."

Taehyung nods to the x and says, "Your turn. Unstrap him and take his place."

You freeze. Certainly, you want to feel what it is like to be flogged, but as you turn to assess Jeongguk, you realize there are beads of blood forming in streaks along his skin.

Taehyung chuckles, and you turn your attention back to him. As if to show you he is sincere, he lifts his mask, and you feel stunned by the beauty of his face covered in sweat and the way the mask pushes his hair up into a spiky halo.

"I will be much more gentle with you. Stoplight system, remember?"

"Yes, sir," you mutter, still too nervous to imagine what it must feel like.

"You will love it, darling," Yoongi says, and when you turn to him, his grin appears particularly wolfish.

You trust these men. With a nod and slow exhale, you turn to Jeongguk and begin to unto the straps around his wrists. Hwasa undoes his left ankle, and you squat to undo his right.

As soon as Jeongguk is free and you are standing, he turns to you, grabs you firmly by the chin, and spin-presses you against the wooden x. Before you can so much as whimper, Jeongguk is roughly kissing you, pressing his body into yours and making you feel his long, hard erection against your tummy.

You moan into his mouth, hands on the wood rather than on him as you attempt to get your bearings and find your footing. Jeongguk releases you, and as you spin to take your place in front of the x, he takes you by the hips from behind, pressing himself against you again. The satin skirt is thin, and the panties beneath are thinner. You can practically feel every line of him, and it drives you wild.

Jeongguk lifts your right hand high over your head and straps your wrist into the leather cuff, then does the same with your left. Hwasa unstraps your left shoe, and you step out of it, thankful that the heel is low enough that your arms are not tugged as you settle and spread your left leg. To your right, Namjoon gets on his knees, unstraps your shoe, and spreads your right leg. You are restrained and close your eyes to take a deep breath as fingers touch and tease you.

"May I?" Taehyung asks as he tugs at the center of your corset. You nod without thinking, knowing that Hwasa is present but feeling too dreamy to worry about her possibly seeing you topless.

Taehyung makes quick work of unclipping your top, then gently peels it off your sweaty skin and tosses it aside, leaving you in just the pasties that cover your nipples and the short skirt.

"This type of play may be very overwhelming for our buttercup at first, so please refrain from touching her sexually unless she asks. Understood?"

The men respond that they understand, and you smile to yourself, grateful that Taehyung is so careful with you.

With a delicate kiss placed at the nape of your neck, sending a shiver down your back, Taehyung says, "We finally get a chance to play. Are you ready?"

"Yes, sir," you respond automatically, though you are not sure whether you truly are ready.

Taehyung steps back, and when you open your eyes, you find Yoongi standing in front of you with Jeongguk on the left and Namjoon on the right. You feel shy to have such a captive audience and close your eyes.

"Ah, ah," Yoongi says, and you open them again. Of course, he would want you to look at him while Taehyung does…whatever it is he is planning on doing to you.

The tips of the leather flogger touch your skin softly, then tickle along your spine. You grin and giggle, allowing the wave of shivers that follow the lowering of the toy. Then he moves it off your skin, and you take a deep breath.

"You will love it, darling," Yoongi says, reaching with both hands to cover yours, which you open and lie flat against the wood.

The toy very delicately hits your skin, making you jump from anticipation. You laugh, feeling silly for responding so dramatically, and Yoongi smiles fondly. Again, the toy strikes gently, and again and again, in a rhythm.

"Color?" Taehyung calls, and you respond, "Green, sir," automatically.

Taehyung continues to strike, slightly harder but not hard enough to hurt even in the slightest. You are surprised by how soft and gentle the leather can feel against your skin. Eyes on Yoongi, you gasp slightly from the feeling of the leather, anticipating it to begin to hurt at any moment.

"Going to apply a little more strength and speed," Taehyung says, and you nod.

Yoongi smirks.

The strike against your lower shoulder blade stings slightly, making you jump. As soon as it settles, you feel eager for more, and when Taehyung asks, "Color?" you all but shout, "Green, sir!"

He strikes again and again, firm enough to sting but no harder than a playful slap. He moves along your back, striking new places. Then he returns to your lower shoulder blade, and when he strikes with the same intensity, the soreness of your skin adds a new layer of pleasure-pain that has your eyes rolling back.

"Oh, she likes that," Yoongi calls.

"Is that so?" Taehyung asks.

You nod, open your eyes, and say, "Yes, sir."

You wish the masks could come off and you could see your men, but there is something so delicious about the way their stares come through the visage of hungry beasts. You truly and finally are prey, caught by the most enticing predators, and you allow yourself to moan and sigh as Taehyung continues to strike and strike, over and over, in new spots and sensitive ones, until your entire back is on fire.

"Want to try a harder strike?" Taehyung asks.

You watch Namjoon's pretty lips smile and say, "Yes, sir."

Taehyung whips you in the center of the back, and you jolt more from the loud crack of the leather than the actual sensation. It takes a split second for the pain to bloom, and when it does, you grin.

"Color?"

"Green, sir."

Again and again, Taehyung whips, alternating harder and softer strikes, working around your back in no particular pattern, always keeping you guessing. You feel lightheaded and eager to be touched, so you open your eyes wide and doe-like and say, "Please."

"Please?" Yoongi asks, hands still firmly holding yours.

"Please kiss me."

Yoongi slides his hands away and steps close in the center of the space. "You are so perfect," he says at the same time Namjoon places his hand over your right one, and Taehyung hits a particularly sore spot.

You tremble and attempt to stand on your toes, but you have nowhere to go.

"Kiss me," you beg as the leather lashings pull you closer to the edge of some agonizing but euphoric precipice, causing your fingernails to scrape against the wood. "Yoongi," you insist, "Please!"

As Yoongi leans in and presses his lips to yours, Taehyung begins to move the flogger in a figure-eight pattern, striking your shoulder blades and dragging the tails downward over your skin. You sink into the pleasure and let your mouth fall open, allowing Yoongi to lick, suck, and nip as he desires. When he steps aside and Namjoon takes his place, you imagine him wrapping you in his strong, warm arms and carrying you off to bed. One deep, pleased groan from Namjoon causes your skin to break out in goosebumps.

You want to be touched by the others and fucked until you can no longer feel your body; there is something so enthralling in the way this kind of pleasure leaves you dizzy and almost floaty. You wonder whether the skin of your back could break open and you would feel only ecstasy as your insides gush to the floor.

As Taehyung's strikes slow to a stop, you feel antsy and begin to tremble. The feeling of the leather restraints makes you want to rip and gnaw until you are free, but you do your best to focus on Namjoon's mouth. That is, until he pulls it away.

You instinctively yank your hands down, but they are bound, and your breath feels caught in your throat. Why are you so anxious all of a sudden? While hands work open your various bindings, your top is wrapped around you and being fastened. Yoongi steps around the wooden x, and you barrel into him, causing whoever is dressing you to falter.

"Darling?" Yoongi asks, concern in his tone as he wraps an arm around your shoulders, cradling your head.

"She may require after care," Taehyung says from behind you. "It's normal. We'll get her some water and see what else she needs."

Part of you hates being talked about as if you have no agency, but you press yourself against Yoongi's warm bare chest and close your eyes, humming with pleasure as he wraps his arms tightly around you. You are neither drunk nor high, yet you feel disconnected from your body and barely tethered. Is flogging supposed to be this emotional?

Namjoon and Jeongguk kiss your forehead, making you smile, and they promise to have a surprise for you before leaving the VIP lounge with Hwasa. Taehyung appears from some dark corner with a jacket and a bottle of water, and he drapes the warm fabric over your shoulders, then opens the water and hands it to you.

"Sometimes this kind of play can become physically and emotionally confusing," Taehyung explains as you slowly pull a shaking arm from around Yoongi and take the cold bottle from Taehyung's hand. You sip slow, closing your eyes as the water cools you down and grounds you. "Pushing your body to its limits can cause a person to feel an emotional crash."

You are somewhat familiar with the feeling, having floated out of your body during sex and feeling somewhat of a crash after. You suppose this does feel similar.

"Thank you," you say, handing the water to Yoongi.

You pivot and crash into Taehyung's warm, sweaty chest, causing the jacket to slip off and make you shiver. Taehyung wraps you in his arms and holds you tight, and you let go of all the confusing feelings, breathing as he breathes.

"More drinks?" He offers as the hug begins to loosen, and you nod. "Yes, please."

You do not feel entirely returned to normal, but not that your body has had a chance to calm down, you feel less on the brink of total collapse.

"Mind if I have a moment with her first?" Yoongi asks.

Taehyung bows at the hips and excuses himself, draping his pretty rose flogger over his shoulder as he walks down the stairs. Yoongi pulls his mask up until it sits high on his head, and you swoon at the sight of his sweat-dewy skin and wide, pretty smile. You lift your mask, as well, and step forward, reaching for the belt loops of his slacks and tugging him close.

"You guys always find new ways of making me feel completely insane," you joke as you stand high on your toes and press your lips to his.

Yoongi wraps one arm low around your hips and the other high around your shoulders, cradling your head as he kisses you slow and deep, tugging on the already loose threads of what remains of your sanity. Your tongues dance and tease, and you wrap your arms around his hips and squeeze his ass in both palms, winning you a grin and a chuckle. If only this could be all yours again. This, without all the other baggage that comes along with him.

"Stay with me tonight?" Yoongi asks, and you feel the cracks in your heart begin to splinter a little further.

"Yoongi," you begin, but he steals your lips once more, this time in a delicate press. Perhaps he does not want to hear what you have to say.

He rests his forehead against yours and sighs, then says, "Alright. Shoes, then drinks?"

You nod and step away, to where the heels have been left on each side of the wooden x. Yoongi steadies you with a hand on your elbow as you slide into each shoe, then he gets down on his knees and clasps them. As he stands, he silently watches you, eyes assessing yours, back and forth as if attempting to decode your thoughts. And then he slides his mask back down over his eyes, runs a hand through his hair, and reaches out a hand. You slide your mask back into place and take his hand, allowing him to lead you back down the stairs.

The music has become a bit sharp and chaotic, and the floor is full of writhing bodies. All the dancers wear rabbit masks, on the stages and in the cages, and you crane your neck to see anonymous wealthy patrons throwing notes at them all as if on command.

"Whiskey?" Yoongi asks, and you snicker because he always asks despite the answer always being yes.

"Of course," you respond, giving his hand a squeeze.

Around you, patrons turn and watch the two of you. Yoongi holds his head high, and you watch as the light shimmers off the diamonds around his neck. The way his hair waves and fans out around the mask only adds to a primal energy that is palpable in his every move. You lift the hand that wears your engagement ring and rub over Yoongi's bicep as a show that you are his and pretend not to notice all the prying eyes. It feels good suddenly to imagine all of these people know who he is, and they see you with him. You feel a surge of power.

Yoongi holds up two fingers, and a tender—who was in the middle of mixing drinks for another party—nods and turns, grabbing the special Japanese whiskey off the high shelf, pouring two very generous portions, and sliding them forward. Yoongi grabs one and hands it to you, then takes the other and holds it up to you for a cheers. You tap your glass against his and pull it to your lips, taking in the scent of woody caramel notes and having a taste of the familiar liquor.

The two of you drink and people-watch. There are couples and groups all over the space kissing and groping. On the corner of the bar, you watch as a man with a suit, Rolex, and dog mask uses a rolled-up note to snort powder from a music box that is held open by a bartender, and you feel antsy for a sniff.

Taehyung approaches from a dark corner with his arm draped over Hoseok's shoulder, and you watch him whisper something into Hoseok's ear before dropping his arm so Hoseok can leave. Following Hoseok's departure past you and toward the entrance, you spin and watch as Hoseok whispers in Seokjin's ear, and Seokjin gives a curt nod before walking toward the office.

"Successful party," Taehyung says, and you twist back to find him leaning against the bar and wagging a single finger at a bartender.

"Is it always this busy?" you ask, and Taehyung shakes his head while Yoongi chuckles.

Leaning close, Yoongi says into your ear, "Many of the politician dogs you see are scared to be caught dead partaking in a mafia party and enjoying our drugs and liquor. But with the addition of the masks, they feel comfortable with letting loose and flaunting their wealth."

Your eyes find the man with the Rolex again and wonder what his position in office must be and whether he is part of a chaebol family. Taehyung lifts his glass, and you and Yoongi tap yours against his before you all take a drink.

"Jeonggukie evidently has a surprise for you," Taehyung says as he drapes an arm over Yoongi's shoulder and leans close. "But he has gotten a little sidetracked, so I have been tasked with distracting you."

And distract you, he does. Taehyung orders the finest box of cocaine and several rounds of shots. He regales you with the story of the first time he flogged Jeongguk and how he cried like a baby after, truly reaching subspace for the first time. You snort unabashedly from a music box with a tiny spinning ballerina who also wears a wolf mask. By the time Taehyung receives a signal that Jeongguk is ready for you, the three of you are stumbling and laughing.

However, the mood switches as he leads you past the empty office and all the private dance rooms, to the door at the end of the hallway. Hidden in the shadows every several feet are security guards, and you jump the first time you see one, then scold yourself for being so on edge. Perhaps it is the idea of going downstairs, but you are filled with trepidation. You have been enjoying this night overall, and you would certainly like to have sex with Yoongi and Namjoon later on, but you are not sure whether you are eager to receive a surprise down in the suites, despite how you felt when you first arrived and saw Jeongguk dancing in the cage.

At the top of the steps, you mutter, "Ugh, more steps," regretting your footwear choice and wondering if perhaps your sore feet are the true source of your discomfort.

Taehyung hands his drink to Yoongi, then takes your glass from your fingers and hands it over for Yoongi to cradle precariously, and then hoists you over his shoulders. You squeal and laugh as you attempt to get into a comfortable position and not fling the both of you down the stairs. Taehyung takes his drink back, has a sip, and carries you down to the bottom level.

Yoongi follows the two of you, carrying both of your drinks in one upturned hand with an amused smile. At the bottom of the stairs, you expect Taehyung to set you down, and you laugh as he continues to carry you all the way, dramatically kicking your feet and pretending to beat on his shoulders while crying, "Unhand me, you brute!"

When Taehyung sets you back down, holding his arms out to allow you to get steady—with his drink still in hand—you gain your bearings, dizzy but delighted until you remember that you are in the basement just outside the executive suite and feeling not entirely sure you want to participate in whatever is waiting inside.

"Wait," you say as Taehyung reaches to unlock the door.

"What is it?" Yoongi asks, and you stare at the floor, attempting to gather your thoughts.

"I just…" you swallow thickly. "I don't know. Maybe this isn't what I want."

Perhaps it is from being recognized as Kaori while working at Serendipity, but this entire vibe is dredging up old, bad memories. You know that these men do not view you as a piece of flesh to pass around and sink their teeth into, but you cannot help the way your skin crawls from the thought of it.

"Would you at least like to see the surprise first?" Taehyung asks.

You nibble on your lip.

"Namjoon is in there, too," Yoongi says.

You exhale and nod, excited to see Namjoon. Yoongi hands your drink back as Taehyung keys in the code to the room. Nervous, you chug back the remnants of your whiskey, feeling it rush to your head.

As the door opens, music comes pouring out, much more sensual than the music that plays in the hallway and upstairs. The light is dim and purple, and it takes a moment for your eyes to adjust. Heavy-blinking, you make out the shapes of Namjoon and Jeongguk standing beside the bed, still topless with their harnesses and masks on. On the bed, laid back with one leg bent and supporting herself on her elbows, is Hwasa without her mask on. Her leather skirt is hiked high on her thighs, and you can see a hint of lace underneath.

You hesitate as Yoongi presses firmly against the small of your back, forcing you to step forward. To be fair, it is not wise to keep the door to this room open, despite the security guards that are littered in the shadows all throughout the hallways. You would hate for even them to be audience to what is in this room.

Hwasa sits forward, gets onto her hands and knees, and crawls to the end of the bed. In the periphery, you are aware of Yoongi and Taehyung moving deeper into the room, to the left, where the other two are, but you are too stunned to take your eyes off Hwasa. As she advances, your hands begin to tremble. Is she your surprise? Have they all been discussing this behind your back?

You reach to undo the ribbon of your mask, letting it drop from your face. Hwasa catches it and sets it aside, then takes your face in both palms as she sits high on her knees and pulls you close.

"Kiss me?" Hwasa asks, and you comply.

Slowly, tentatively, you lean forward and press your lips to hers. Her lipstick has a somewhat waxy flavor, but you ignore it, sighing as she nips at your lips and then uses her tongue to prod them apart. With a smile, she teases your tongue and then deepens the kiss, but all you can do is stand stiff as a board.

Hwasa is absolutely the ideal woman, and you have dreamt about kissing her—as well as doing so much more—pretty much since the moment you met her. But as she trails her kiss down to your jaw and neck, all you can think about is how this is not what you want right now.

"I'm sorry," you plead, feeling your knees give out. You lower to the bed and then to the floor and place your palms down onto the carpet. "I'm sorry," you say again as you bow your head forward against the side of the mattress and sink into a slouch.

Everything feels too heavy, and this is not how you want any of this to happen. Not when you are in a constant state of inner turmoil. You already use Hwasa for comfort on the dark and lonely nights, and adding sex to that equation is not fair to her or to anyone. The last thing you want to do is use her even more than you already are when your heart is already here in Seoul, and you do not think finding a distraction in someone else is fair to your men despite the fact that they have each other.

"It's not you," you mutter, feeling hands tug on your shoulders and attempt to yank you up. "Trust me, I want to," you lift your head, finding Hwasa sitting on the end of the bed with her feet planted on the floor. She leans forward and takes your cheeks in her palms.

"Dove, it's okay," she insists.

You attempt to shake your head, but all you achieve is squishing your cheeks against Hwasa's palms, making her crack a smile.

"Please, don't apologize," she insists. "I could never be offended. You're going through a lot right now, and the boys and I thought this might be a good thing for you. But you know yourself better than we do and I am not hurt by your answer."

You hobble onto your knees and lean forward, wrapping your arms around Hsawa's middle and nuzzling awkwardly between her legs. If these circumstances were even slightly different, you would sink into her in a heartbeat and allow absolutely anything to happen.

Tears fall, and you cannot help but sob and cry. All you want is to stay in Seoul, but you are terrified of what new horrors these men might bring, and it is tearing you apart inside. This woman has done so much for you, but you cannot bring yourself to do this for her.

"I'm sorry," you say again, intending for it to be aimed at everyone in the room. "This is all too much and…I think I need to go."

"We can go home," Hwasa insists, and you nod.

Looking up, all of the men have removed their masks. It dawns on you that this is the first time in weeks you are seeing Namjoon's entire face, and you want to kiss it so badly and rub your hands over his cute, fuzzy buzzcut, and forget about all your worries. But you ache with the thought of having to leave him, and somehow running to him and expressing all the love you feel for him seems cruel.

As you stand, Namjoon and Yoongi slowly approach. You drop your face into your hands and cry, feeling too ashamed to face them. Jeongguk has put together such an amazing event, and rather than enjoy it, he is down here wasting his time with a crybaby who teased him but did nothing more.

Arms wrap around you, and you drop your hands, allowing the muscular chests of your two favorite men to cage you in close to suffocation. They pet your hair and shoulders, placing kisses against your temples, and you do your best to steady your breathing.

"I'm sorry," you say again, and Yoongi shushes you.

He takes a step back until you can look at him and smiles sadly. "Sorry we are being overwhelming again," he says, thumbing your tears away.

"Not overwhelming," you insist, leaning sideways into Namjoon.

"I'm sorry we put you into a position you're not comfortable with," Namjoon says, rubbing a palm over your back.

You shake your head. "This was a wonderful surprise, and I would absolutely be interested if circumstances were different. But it doesn't feel right. Not right now."

Namjoon takes a step back, and you notice the way he looks at your face, then at the earrings he bought you, and smiles. You step forward and press your lips to his, then step to the right and kiss Yoongi.

Your body wants more, but you feel exhausted, so you take a step back, nod, and say, "I'm ready to go."

Hwasa hugs Jeongguk goodbye and waves to the others, bowing and thanking them for a good night. As you stand in front of Yoongi and Namjoon, on the brink of asking them to take you back home instead, you bite your inner lip and keep your mouth shut. Yoongi has been saying something big is in the works, so perhaps whatever he is doing now will allow you to feel safe returning to Seoul. Perhaps it will all happen sooner than you realize.

"I love you," you say as you allow both men to kiss you chastely one last time, holding back tears each time they say they love you too.

"Soon," Yoongi promises, and you nod.

"Next weekend?" He asks, hopeful.

You nod again.

Hwasa takes you by the hand and begins to lead you away. With the door open and the music blaring in, the shift in lighting and your warring thoughts knock you off your axis. All this time, the obvious has been screaming at you from all sides, and you have been desperately trying to find a change of scenery in the wrong places. And now, you are making a mistake, knowing full well that the pull toward Yoongi and Namjoon is too strong to continue to ignore.

"Wait," you mutter as you slide your hand from her grip and say, "I'm sorry, Hyejin," before turning toward your men.

You feel foolish for asking, knowing the emotional roller coaster you have been putting these men through, but the ache has been festering inside you for far too long, wrapping itself like barbed wire around your heart and lungs.

Glancing forward meekly, your voice comes out barely above a whisper.

"Can I come back home?"

*

hey there, where you runnin'? you're only days from the mouth of this cage (cage) hey, where are you going? i've searched around this place and it's dead

🎵 visit the playlist

***

BESTIEEEEEEESSSSSS!!!!!!!! 💜💜💜 HI HI HI I HAVE MISSED YOU SO!!!!!!! HAPPY DAY OF YOONGI'S RETURN FROM THE MILITARY LMAO I WAS NOT PLANNING ON THIS BUT IT WORKED OUT CUTELY!!!

some housekeeping: it should go without saying, but the way Taehyung strikes Jeongguk with the flogger is not correct bdsm practice! Taehyung and Jeongguk are midkey psychotic. the way he strikes mc is correct. please play safely and don't take bdsm practice from fanfic even when it is written by a long time practitioner (me) because it is sometimes intentionally written to be harmful. 💜

5 more chapters. despite having been writing this fic for three (3?!!??!?!?!!!?) years, it feels wild to be coming up to the end. how are we feeling??? so much has happened since my last update, for worse and for better, and i am truly grateful for your patience. if you have stuck around and still read this fic, i cannot thank you enough.

i always promise big things when i have a break between semesters so this time i am going to keep my fucken mouth shut!!! lmao. hopefully i will see you sooner than later.

REBLOGS ARE EVERYTHING ON THIS SITE BLAH BLAH LIKES ARE ALSO GREAT YADDA YADDA. COMMENTS & DMS ARE WHAT TRULY TELL ME YOU ARE READING AND WANT MORE. BUT IF YOU ARE SILENT, YOU ARE ALSO AMAZING. keeping in touch will absolutely push me to write more/faster, but don't feel obligated to do what you don't want to. 💜 drink water. i love you.

😘😘😘

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