You always loved me more when I was high.

V

Yes, V.

V for Vendetta.

Kneel to my beauty, bitches.

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I see him standing next to the fridge, blond hair messed in the sexiest way possible, an innocent smile lighting up his black, sleepy eyes, and my cock swells.

Why couldn't I be a rapper?

I could hide every boner and two Jungkooks in Lil Wayne's pants.

I really, undeniably, am into trouble. I have a problem.

I always liked him.

I always wanted him.

But ever since that night, when I came into that girl's mouth at RR, when she unexpectedly held me in when I tried to pull out, when she deepthroated and swallowed every drop, and I fisted her short blonde hair, tilting my head back on the booth, closing my eyes, the vivid image was just there.

She wasn't the one I was mouthfucking.

She wasn't the one that was swallowing every drop of my lust with hunger.

She wasn't the one I was coming for.

And now, I want that image to become a reality, really bad.

In fact, I can't stop thinking about it.

Me waking up in the morning: Thinking about it.

Me eating breakfast with the others: Thinking about it.

Me driving, working, punching people, and threatening to kill them if they don't pay us: Still. Fucking. Thinking. About. It.

I can't fucking stop.

The only time I stop thinking about that is when I think about kissing him.
Can't get the memory of his breath off my lips.
How he had gripped my shirt.
How I bet, he hadn't even realized that he did it.
How his eyes begged me to do it.

How I didn't want to, because he didn't crave me, but the experience.

Just to feel how it is.

And how ugly the truth was, that as soon as he gets that experience, he won't look at me with those adoring, wanting eyes ever again.

The worst part is that I was right.

He got that experience the next day —from his fucking Oyabun, nonetheless.

And those wanting eyes never made an appearance since then.

Not to me, at least.

Until now. That stare is dripping from those infinite black pools every time little bastard looks at Snowflake.

Funny how both Suga and I ended up hating the same girl.

But Suga, after having an unexpected sex marathon that made horny even the sea turtles down the docks, impregnated the whole population of Asia and left the smell of sex lingering across the entire penthouse for hours, somehow got over it.

Probably Rain worshipped his dick enough to leave no room for doubt.

J-hope told me he heard them going at it all night.

I replied that deaf people in Cuba heard them going at it all night.

At first, I was thrilled.

I even had stood outside Suga's door, pressing my ear onto it, cause —hello, I'm me. Then I had gone to sleep and realized I was jealous of fucking Snowflake that couldn't hear them from the third floor—or maybe could she?— and I was going to die alone.

I stared at my ceiling till six a.m.

I had four texts from JB.

All were because I confronted him about what Suga told me, that he is his best friend.

JB: Come on, you know how it is. I couldn't tell you.

JB: Suga was going to be a headache.

JB: Does it matter anyway?

JB: Wanna meet later tonight? ;)

I left him on seen.

Opening my nightstand, I took out a rolled blunt. Lit it and inhaled, pressing my eyes shut, listening to stupid music to forget; that only made it worse because —you guessed it— I was thinking about it.

What was I doing?

Where was I going?

Guys and girls were lining up and drooling for my attention, and I was staying up all night, pinning for a fucking virgin, and most importantly, my co-worker.

A guy so weird, with less social skills than burnt avocado toast.

Yet so smart.

So brave.

And so fucking, excruciatingly hot.

The rare type of hot, the one that doesn't know how hot he is.

Everyone wondered why and how he is still single.
How has he not fucked all the tinder population of Seoul?
How could he not have kissed anyone until twenty?

I'll tell you how:

I was there. And for the most part, covertly prevented it from happening.

If I saw a girl doing the starry eyes dance at him, I would feign interest and fuck her until she wouldn't remember her name, much less who was the loser with me.

If a guy suggested he might be interested in him, I would laugh and gay shame him enough to crawl into a hole, because of course, us, the fucking Seven Seas, bloody gangsters that no one has the balls to mess with, are straighter than a rod. Can't help but making gag noises in my head for the pretentiousness of the last statement.

Which brings us to the mother of uncomfortable situations: The present.

Live fast die young, bad girls do it well,
Snowflake shakes her ass, dancing to Bad Girls by M.i.a. while washing the dishes —I hope Jin burns her alive for touching his kitchen without asking him— wearing Rain's clothes —disturbing to my eyes, and my dick that doesn't know if it's offensive to get hard or not— and being more chill than a fucking penguin in Antarctica, pretending she doesn't know J-hope's eyes had memorized her ass-dance—and unfortunately, Jungkook's.

I suppose Rain sucked Suga's dick so good, the fucker forgot all about how we are a fucking clan and let Violet roam free out of her cage like we're a frat house.

Nanami would have never allowed this kind of fuckeries in here, not even over her dead body. And I get that months have passed since her death, but recently everyone is acting like her death has not even affected them in the slightest.

If we are getting an announcement that Snowflake is a clan member now, I'm asking to leave.

And blowjob lessons from Rain. Because apparently, you can get anything you want with one of those.

Okay, I might be exaggerating. For the circumstances, not for the blowjob. I would never joke about a blowjob.

If you're still wondering how the fuck Snowflake ended up here, worry not and call me an English man because I'm about to serve you the hottest earl grey tea.

So get this:

Apparently, Snowflake and Rain had never met again after Suga had caught them dryfucking (obviously, they did way more than that, but Suga was too sour to share) seven years ago.

Supposedly, something had happened, and Snowflake had moved away to Russia, where her father was from, to start a new life or some equally naive Hollywood-dumb shit.

There, she studied to become a pre-school teacher for hearing and speech impaired children.

But money got short, and her father was being blackmailed because he owed Russian mafia money from gambling and drugs.

Snowflake, to help her father with his debt, became a stripper. (The washing-dishes-dancing just got ten times hotter in your mind now, didn't it?)

Then, long story short, she got into a big fight with her pimp-boyfriend who sold her to traffickers.

The traffickers being the same fucking ring under the Ryuzaki clan.

The mofos that Rain made us kill, along with the rest of the clan.

That made a pretty penny by buying and selling girls. Girls that the guy that Rain killed last night was importing to South Korea.

The guy that Rain killed was Snowflake's trafficker.

So, I kind of get why she is dish-dancing.

She is a fucking survivor. Her life took an epic turn from five-dollar-blowies-trash to gang-protected by the fucking bloody waves.

Right now, she is untouchable.

The problem?

Remember the wanting eyes Jungkook was throwing at me before having his first kiss from Rain?

Well, guess whose dish-dancing ass are those wanting eyes appointed to now.

Jimin was right.

It is happening again.

We got a blonde-Rain-clone bonus in this loft out of the blue.

And the stares she is getting from my clan-mates?

It's like the Hunger Games started in here.

And the worse part?

Jungkook's stare screams, I volunteer as a tribute.

Misery loves company, people love to say.

In my case, my misery was my company.

Or more specifically, my fucking partner in crime.

 ~           ~           ~           ~           ~          ~           ~







Random Thursday, 11.00 am, seven seas h.q. Penthouse balcony. 

Or just the fucking balcony.

"They look friendly," Jimin commented through his cigarette, blowing rings of smoke, his eyes focused on Rain and Snowflake, who were talking in the kitchen over cups of coffee. 

Yes, Violet can talk. But apparently, only when none of us can hear her.
Why? No fucking clue.
Honestly? Couldn't care less.

"Shit, Sherlock. You think? They fooled us for weeks and met every day." J-Hope deadpanned, rolling his eyes. I don't even know why he's out here with us since he's not smoking. Oh, wait, I know. J-hope is a closeted gossip and likes to pretend he is too cool even to change his filthy shirt, much less acknowledge he wants to observe the rest of us and give useless advice like nothing matters, we're all going to die anyway, and pointless answers filled with emo swag, like, your funeral.

"Now, who's the dumb that didn't notice they were switching..." I murmured over my third blunt for the day. I am trying to keep my head clear. You know from what.

Stop thinking about mouthfucking Jungkoo—

Oops, too late.

"Yeah, J-hope. How come didn't you notice?" Jimin grinned, exhaling smoke. Clutching his cigarette between his teeth, he brought his hands forward to gesture a size. "I mean, Snowflake's ass is like double of Rain's—"

J-hope swatted him.

How the fuck these two even get shit done? Thank god our income doesn't depend on their work.

My phone kept vibrating in my pocket.

Tinder matches.

Onlyfans links.

Texts.

Nudes.

Even fucking videos.

The last one was from that blue-haired hipster I went out with two weeks ago. I was bored out of my fucking mind. Would have left sooner if she hadn't started giving me a handjob literally under the fucking table of bloody Starbucks. Right under our chocolate chip, whipped-cream covered frappuccinos.

And since it wasn't one of the days I was wearing cum jeans —as Suga calls my Dsquared— we had to finish the job in the bathroom, where she asked me to take a video of her while she was sucking me so she could upload it to her Patreon. 

The one she had sent me now was one of her in a neon pink thong, spreading her tan legs, with the caption, missed you.

Who wants to bet she has also sent this to all of her 5k followers?

Thankfully, I saw Suga entering the kitchen with the corner of my eye.

Nope, I take it back. From the glare he throws in our direction outside, I can guarantee that all of us are knee-deep in trouble.

What the hell dude? No one is allowed to look like that after that much sex. You're going to give Rain a bad name.

RM came short after him, Jin following as well.

The three of them were having a fucking clan meeting —again— without considering us, the youngest peasants. Oh, so that's why J-hope is with us. He knows what's going on and was asked to keep an eye on us. But for what?

I can tell it's something big.

Suga makes a gesture for us to go inside.

J-hope nods and makes his way.

Jimin follows, grinning and making a gesture of slapping imaginary asses in the air. Suga throws him a glare that says he will slap his ass down off this balcony.

After fitting the bud of my blunt in the ashtray, I follow.

Hurray. Let's go face again my secret virgin obsession eye-fucking snowflake. 

High, chill, and grinning, I settle on a chair at the kitchen table. Tilting it back, I observe.

Suga was still talking with RM and Jin, a few meters away from the rest of us, about unknown shit.

Snowflake, looking around and finding it uncomfortable to talk in front of others, gestures with her hands at Rain. What the fuck is that? Sign language?

Rain furrows her eyebrows.

The fuck? Does Rain know sign language? Is she going to reply to it? Otherwise, maybe I can understand what they're talking about.

Rain tilts her head. Smirking, she replies in a thick accent—In Russian.

Rain knows Russian?

She had asked me once what other languages I know so that we could speak in front of others, and no one would understand. Now she is doing that with Violet.

Seems like Snowflake won't be occupying only my secret crush's attention. She also wants a spot in my best friend's attention wagon.

She's only here a few days, most of them locked in a room with J-hope or Jungkook and apparently was enough to start taking everything. Becoming me.

Their covert exchange goes on.

Snowflake signs something else, Rain replying in Russian.

I get J-hope's name somewhere in those thick-accented words.

What the hell are they talking about?

They have also attracted sideglances from everyone else. Not that they care.

Thankfully—how many times can I say that in one morning?—Suga with RM and Jin finish their convo and come closer.

Jin inspects the kitchen with a quick yet scrutinizing glance. Please burn Snowflake.

He throws a dismissive stare and sits down. What the hell, Jin? Someone touched your kitchen! What. The. Hell?

RM leans on the wall, throwing us an I'm-watching-you-all-brats stare, sipping on a water bottle from the fridge.

Jungkook scrolls on his phone, probably on some Reddit thread for nerds and closeted weeaboos, nibbling on grapes for breakfast. 

The only grapes I would ever have for breakfast would be in the form of wine. 

Suga goes behind Rain, leans down, and whispers something in her ear.

Rain looks down. Smiles. Then looks up, and with a glare, she flips him off. He chuckles.

You shouldn't be chuckling, my dude. I don't have it beneath her to fuck you then kill you, black-widow style. The spider, not the Rita Ora song.

Which was probably why Rain broke more hearts than she could count.

Fuck. They're good. 
Of course, they're good. Not that I'm not delighted they're good. But that means that whatever the fuck is going on is not about the Romeo and Juliet of the clan.

It means that there is something that can deter Suga. Something alarming enough to switch his face to seriously pissed after having loud mind-blowing sex with the love of his life. Yeah, you're not fooling anyone about that not being true, dude. I was there. I heard your epic if-you-needed-me-I-would-have-crawled-to-you speech. 

My curiosity is getting the best of me. "So are we getting the announcement this century, or are we waiting for the concept of time to restart?" I murmur over my double-shot espresso.

Jungkook chuckles next to me. Oh, you found this funny? You should hear the rest of the shit that goes about it in my head. 

Disclaimer: I'm not paying your shrink bills after.



Suga takes a standing position at the end of the table, the rest of us sitting around it like a weird version of the Da Vinci painting, the last supper of Jesus with his apostles.

If RM was some murderous version of Mark, and Jin an even more ferocious version of John. 

Suga takes an inhale, about to announce something, his expression troubling, which makes me think he's the news bearer of what he calls a fuckening.

He opens his mouth to speak, then—

"Violet needs a room up here. With us. She's not a prisoner." Rain cuts him off before he even starts, and everyone turns to look at her. 

Wanna bet if one of us did that, we would be looking for our dicks down the alley? 

His eyebrows furrow, yet his response is calm. "We don't have an extra room here. The one on the third floor is fine—"

"She can stay in mine," Rain added with a smirk that could be interpreted with all kinds of puns.

Suga had a stroke.

Not visually, he looked all calm and indifferent. But you're getting this from me, and trust me, I know. On the inside, Suga was fuming.

Losing it. Probably had 39 scenarios in his head with Rain and Snowflake recreating scenes from prison lesbian porn, including alien dildos, unicorn strapons, and pokemon buttplugs.

Rain's lips tilted upwards like she knew what he was thinking. Girl really gets off by challenging him.

His eyes narrow in a silent warning. Like he is asking not to defy him in front of us. 

Dude, you're screwed. If she gets it, she's going to do it even more.

I bet she doesn't even care about finding Snowflake a room. She is doing it only to spite him.

And the man's got a point. All rooms are occupado.

And there's no way he is going to let Violet sleep with Rain. 

The only viable option he would think of, to please Rain and bring Violet up here, would be to make her roomies with one of us. Except for Jimin. He would never put her with Jimin.

Which leaves us with...

A very good fucking chance to put her with Jungkook. 

Look at that. Now, I'm the one having that stroke. 

Wait.

Why the fuck haven't I thought of this sooner?

I have the perfect remedy for these kinds of situations.

My lips crawled in a smile.

You all had pegged me as the funny cinnamon roll of this clan, haven't you? Admit it.

Remember what I said I did when girls hit on Jungkook?

I have ways to eliminate my opponents.

Their solution was my salvation.

"It's inhuman to leave her all alone in a room on a whole other fucking floor—"

"That fucking room is equipped like a fucking five-star hotel—"

Of course it is. Suga had prepared that room for Rain. I wouldn't be surprised if it has a button where you press it and a servant to massage your feet appears out of a mystical portal from the closet.

Chills spread in me as I cut them off.

"She can stay in my room."

Everyone stops. They all look at me.

"With me."

I grin.

My grin is always beautiful.

My grin is always heartwarming.

My grin is always innocent.

My grin is a distraction.

It will also be Snowflake's destruction.

There is no way I will let her get between Jungkook and me.

Naive bitches.

Kneel, because this fucker was raised by Nanami.

The first thing she told me when my prison cell was unlocked was a question.

"Do you know why you're here?"

"Because I killed someone."

It was no secret.

I had confessed.

And gotten a good plea deal.

Nanami had bought my ticket out. Paid bail and a lawyer and pinned my confessed murder on some random jerk that's still rotting in jail.

"No, you idiot."

Cold amusement danced in her eyes.

"Because you've gotten caught."

And the second thing she told me?

It was a statement.

Never  let  anyone  take  what's  yours.

https://youtu.be/Iw3aoIIKPps

A/N:

Missed you <3