like taking candy from a

by baboey (ThotHouse)

Summary:

In which Zoey's assigned a 'sexy' concept for the next comeback and needs just a teeny tiny, itty bitty bit of help to keep from freaking the absolute fuck out.

Thankfully, she knows just the Saja Boy to ask.
.

Her body jerks away on instinct, a movement aborted by the way his knees suddenly squeeze her thigh close. Trapped.

Zoey’s heart beats hard, in her chest, her ears, and even her throat judging by the way his eyes are now fixed to the pale expanse.

“And here I thought,” Baby says darkly, “That you didn’t wanna sit with no Saja boy.”

Notes:

me, pointing at the ship with the least canon interaction: that one. that one is the one i will write 10k of smut for

Chapter 1

“Girls, this comeback is going to be amazing!”

Zoey knows full well her eye is twitching again, just as much as she knows there’s very little she can do to stop it. Healer Han’s super medicinal anxiety patches, that smelled oddly like Pas, had stopped working some weeks ago.

“So the designers have already started working on the initial concept pieces, they should be ready by this Friday. Oh! And the brand deals have already started rolling in, some pretty big names. There’s so much excitement girls, I’m shaking! Look, actually shaking!”

Bobby holds out his hands, which are trembling, one doubly so from gripping a bedazzled Huntrix cased phone that was pinging with roughly fifty notifications a second.

Across the table Rumi laughs, her bare shoulders shaking. Around her neck hangs a Gukwa-knot necklace she only wore in private, the design matching a bracelet on the wrist of the Saja Boy’s leader that tabloids were going feral trying to identify. “Calm down, Bobby. This is just like any other comeback.”

“Yea,” Mira says dryly, “We kill it with some new concepts and bomb music, do the usual promo cycle, and then finish it off with a couple months of performing on a stage for thousands of screaming fans. Nothing to get nervous about.”

Zoey just swallows, and not without some difficulty. Promo cycle. Touring. Photo sessions and styling and interviews. “Yea…”

“Oh, you girls,” Bobby says, looking touched. Something in his pocket buzzes and he pulls out another phone, which quickly begins ringing. He gasps. “Actually, speaking of new concepts - Zoey, your first round of mood samplers are almost ready!”

It’s only years of hunter reflexes and media training that keeps Zoey’s knee from banging into the table, freezing a hair before impact. She forces a smile onto her face, saying, “Oh! That’s great! So…soon.”

Mira shoots her a look, which Rumi quickly mirrors.

Bobby’s still texting on one phone and scrolling on another, a new cell balanced on his shoulder in what appeared to be a group FaceTime. “I know! I’m having them push it up, actually. With the focus on the solo tracks, yours is the biggest departure from the previous concepts, after all. Want to make sure you’re comfortable. And, oh! They can make tomorrow! Isn’t that great?”

Zoey purses her lips to keep from screaming. “Mmmhmmm.” Her manicured hand clutches the edge of her chair so tightly she feels the metal give. “Yep, great. Great is totally the word I would use.”

Both Mira and Rumi are now leaning forward, eyes narrowed and lips comically pursed.

A single bead of sweat rolling down her temple, Zoey looks determinedly forward.

There’s a loud sound from Bobby’s belt and he jumps, phones falling for a second before he snaps them out of the air with unnatural speed. “That’s marketing! The brand contracts must be finalized. Gotta run, girls! Call me if you need anything, I have my beepers set to foghorn if there’s an emergency.”

Too used to their manager’s beeper and cell system to bat an eye, they reply in tandem,“Bye, Bobby!”

No sooner has the door closed, than Zoey tries to bolt for it. Keyword, tries. The glaive slamming into the edge of her seat cuts her off, and the sword at her throat has her quickly sitting back down.

“Spill.”

Normally Mira is really the softest of them three, but there’s no mercy in her eyes at this moment.

“It’s n-nothing! I just remembered I have a thing - you know the thing—”

“Uh, huh,” Rumi says, leaning forward. “Does the thing have anything to do with how obviously freaked out you are for the upcoming tour?”

“Freaked?” Zoey says in a voice too high pitched to be casual. “Pfft, no way. I’m totally calm! And excited! And l-looking forward to it!”

They narrow their eyes in disbelief. She widens her own, trying to look innocent. They intensify the disbelief. She refuses to blink, eyes going dry with the effort.

Something passes over Rumi’s face, an almost smirk.

Then she sighs, suddenly looking sad. She says, “I guess it’s okay if you don’t trust us—”

Zoey crumbles. Zoey crumbles like Pepero left too long in the bag. “Okay, I’m sorry, I just don’t know if I can do the new concept!”

Mira frowns and it’s like the floodgates came pouring out. The chair, noticeably damaged with deep indented finger prints, falls back as she stands.

“It’s just, I’m usually the cute concept, or the fierce hip-hop unit, or even teen crush. I’ve never had to be—be—”

“Sexy,” Mira finishes, glaive tucked away and frowning. “I mean, I know it’s new and we can’t all be that freak Abby,” she rolls her eyes at the mention of the demon whose latest photo spread had literally shut down Weverse for half a day from server overload, “But we’ve done similar concepts before.”

Zoey smiles a little at the reminder of Mira’s kind-of-but-not-really-but-sometimes-with-Romance-too boyfriend, but then deflates at the thought of her pictures being compared with photo cards that were banned in several provinces.

“Yea, we’ve done group concepts, but those are together.” She wrings her hands.  “I’ve never had to be like that on my own, you know?”

Rumi’s the classic modern Korean beauty, and her concepts that even bordered on provocative were all elegant and sophisticated, slightly demure with just a hint of sensual. Teen crush meets alluring to the extreme.

Mira’s are all ka-fucking-pow - sultry and fashionable, her long legs stretching across the page and with more than a few fan blogs begging to be stepped on by them. Major, major girl-crush concept, and she more than did her job as visual.

Zoey is…well, her.

Cute! Aggressive pretty much only in her rapping style. Whenever they’d done anything even slightly sensual, she’d gotten away with just a shorter cut outfit and batting her eyes, even still feeling just a little out of place.

She feels that same insecurity now, looking down as she admits, “I just - I feel like I’ll embarrass you guys. Let down the team.”

“Never,  Zoey,” Rumi says softly, sliding up beside her. “Look, if you’re not comfortable, we can just tell Bobby’s to make the brand guys find something else.”

Mira nods her head. “Yea, your comfort is non-negotiable. There are other concepts.”

“You guys…” Zoey feels herself get a little teary eyed.

Who initiated the hug isn’t clear, but within seconds Zoey’s surrounded by the best pretty-much sisters a girl could ask for, all of them more than little sniffly.

Honmoon, she’d do anything for them. But…

After another squeeze, Zoey takes a breath. “I know you guys have my back no matter what, but…”

The reality is, the album pre-release announcement is happening by the end of the year. They could push it out, but their reputation still hadn’t completely recovered from the months of delaying Golden’s live performance. Not to mention their haha-totally-fake-and-for-publicity group breakup on the Idol Awards stage just a year ago. And then breaking off to form their own non-Celine affiliated media company, while also signing the ‘rival’ Saja Boys as their first new group.

They had only just recovered enough social capital within the industry to start branching out in their sound.

Sure, there are other concepts, but sexy is the concept the marketing teams had spent months identifying as the most popular natural progression of her role in the group identity, the one had polled the best in focus groups, the one that was best primed to make an impression for the album that would include Zoey’s first official solo track.

They were just pictures, really. And well, videos. And interviews about the sexy pictures and videos. She’s not a prude, definitely not, but it’s different when she’s all out there and has to act so…flirty.

And it wasn’t like she’s never flirted before! Zoey had a secret boyfriend in Burbank, back when she was still starting off as a trainee. He’d been sweet and his kisses nice enough, and he hadn’t minded too much when she’d spend months away in training camp. They’d had sex a few times and sure, it was always somehow both over and underwhelming, Zoey always feeling like she wasn’t quite doing it right.

But now, she’s a grown woman! A professional! A hunter! She’s done hundreds of shows and killed thousands of evil demons, so she can definitely stop being self-conscious about not being sexy enough.

Probably.

Still, Zoey pulls away, draws herself up in front of her concerned fellow hunters, and says, “Even if I’m a little nervous, I don’t think we should change the concept.” She pours confidence into her next words. “I can do it.”

Rumi’s hand on her shoulder is steel, matching her eyes. “You don’t have to, Zoey.”

“I know.” That’s part of why she wants to, really.

Mira looks frustrated, spinning her glaive. “Gah, it just really sucks that they sprung this on you! They should have kept these kind of concepts for the Saja suckers. I know Romance’s been begging marketing for a topless photoshoot.”

“Was that what Jinu was complaining about to Bobby?”

“That, or Abby’s campaign for a pants less photoshoot.”

The two girls sigh, but Zoey perks up. Right, the Saja Boys. The other group managed by their entertainment company and conveniently living in the tower next to theirs. All of whom had featured in some kind of risqué concept, some without even marketing’s intention.

Baby last photoshoot had made the head of branding almost short out his pacemaker. And Abby had almost caused a crowd crush spilling coffee on himself at a Hollys.

The beginnings of a plan start to form in Zoey’s head, her hands itching for a fresh notebook.

Mira notices her distraction, frowning. “Zoey, honestly. We can push back on this. Or cancel the comeback.”

Zoey shakes her head. “No! Really, I appreciate it, but I don’t want to change it. I’m a little freaked but I…want to do it.” Her back gets a bit straighter.

“Plus, I’m pretty sure Bobby might get stabbed by the marketing department Cesar style, if we change it this late,” she says, shooting a look at the still buzzing phone he left on the table.

Rumi and Mira exchange glances.

“If you’re sure…”

“Totally,” Zoey lies.

They seem to know, but don’t push it, Rumi just sighing. “If you need someone there for the shoots, just let me know. The last album was vocal-heavy because of the patterns reveal,  so I’m more free this time around.”

“Yea, same.”

Zoey bats their concerns away. “No, no, I know you’re using that time to actually get some dates in with Jinu, Rumi. And, Mira, you’re slammed enough with the choreo. I know that new dance director is still trying to sneak in those changes.”

At this Mira frowned and opened her mouth, but Zoey cuts her off, “ And I can handle this. And I’ll let you guys know if I can’t. Promise!”

“Zoey—”

“No, seriously! I have a plan.”

Rumi raises a brow. “…And you’re sure?”

“Positive.”

Zoey has to figure out the best way to get over her nerves and stop overthinking the whole being sexy thing. Preferably from an expert in both.

There’s only one Saja boy that could possibly help her with this.

---

Abby’s texts in the group chat range from the inane -

[abs_dominator]: loL gonna b late to signing did u kno polar bears have black skin under the fur????

[abs_dominator]: had to leave romance behind but got a bit of hair for u @miraculuscious :winking_emoji: :winking_emoji: :bicep_emoji: :heartbroken_emoji: :laughing_emoji:

[abs_dominator]: also they donnt hibernateo baby u fuckiing LIAAR

[bipa_buffoon]: Abby, were you at the Grand Park Zoo? The news reports are disturbing. I hope for yours and Romance’s sake you were not caught on camera. Sincerely, Jinu.

[bipa_buffoon]: who the fuck changed my username

- to the not even slightly disguised bragging  -

[abs_dominator]: [.png of early morning locker room and copious amounts of sweat and bare skin] [!SAVED!]

[abs_dominator]: jus broke 150 in human form bro rise and fucking GRIND

- and the outright ridiculous -

[abs_dominator]: ffcuking  stupidd cat ate mY shirt ConTROL UR HELL BWAST JINU @joseon_error

[miraculuscious]: don’t u have three others like that

[abs_dominator]: yea but this one made my titties look best :( 

But the one thing he is rarely ever, is offline.

“C’mon, c’mon. Augh!”  Zoey slams the phone down and throws her head back onto the head of the couch. “The one day you’re not posting thirst traps!”

A second passes. Then another. She digs the phone out from between the cushions and checks if there was any reply. And of course, it’s just her own increasingly desperate messages staring back at her.

[tortlally_rad]: Okay this sounds stupid, but I need help preparing for the next album. My concept is SEXY and i am FREAKING OUT

[tortlally_rad]: I need some pointers and you’re the only one I could think of

[tortlally_rad]: :frantically_bowing_emoji: Teach me your ways

[tortlally_rad]: !! Abs answer!! it's in twenty hours I need hellppp check ur stupid phone musclehead :(((

He definitely isn’t at the gym, he usually posts at least ten stories whenever he is, really putting into question how much working out he’s actually doing there. He isn’t with the other boys cause they’re posting in the chat about their sub-unit variety show later that night. He isn’t with Mira cause she had a meeting with the choreographers in the dance studio to practice for the upcoming album.

Zoey makes a noise not unlike death rattle, sinking further in her jelly boned agony. The album. The interview sprint starts in two weeks. The sponsor meetings begin next week. The photoshoots begin the day after tomorrow.

And she. Isn’t. Sexy yet!

“This is impossible…”

Zoey’d done her best on her own, although the mood samplers had been…awkward. She vaguely remembers agreeing to a satin black and gold theme before the realization she’d be wearing and posing in those backdrops hit her and quickly derailed the remaining conversation.

With no answer from Abby this morning, she’d even taken Rumi’s advice and tried dressing like she wanted to feel.

Zoey bites her lip as she awkwardly adjusts the straps of the lace bandeau under her turtle pajamas, ignoring the press of silk on her hips from the bows of the matching underwear. Bows, and not much more.

Mira had called in some favors from her own designer to get a few sets done in her measurements as a surprise. And this set was the best of them, sexy as anything on the hanger and slipping it on but then - Zoey remembers seeing her own reflection after she’d tried it on, nervous and hunched like it’s her first scouting practice and everyone’s speaking Korean too fast.

She’s just so self conscious it ruins it.

Now Zoey finds herself moping around the apartment while Mira and Rumi do important, Huntrix related things, wearing almost-sexy underwear with her favorite pajamas on top, like it suddenly makes her more comfortable. She stares at the turtles in despair.

“You don’t have to be sexy on stage.” She pokes the turtles on her shirt with a pout.

Zoey has always loved turtles. Cute and soft but a hard as heck shell and some, like box turtles, could even retreat into them with the hinge mechanism on their plastron. Just whenever they wanted, hide from the world.

Zoey really wishes she could do that now.

In a Hail Mary kind of hope, Zoey checks her phone again. The message screen states stuck on her last desperate unanswered plea.

She chucks her phone at the wall.

Infuriatingly, it  doesn’t shatter. Zoey groans and throws an arm over her face.“Not even the phone takes me seriously, stupid photos, stupid concept, stupid—”

“If we’re talking about being taken seriously, I suggest a new shirt.”

Zoey yelps, throwing sinkal on instinct. A puff of smoke answers them, and then there’s a frowning Baby Saja leaning over the back of the couch, face so close to hers she can see the irritation bleeding through his usually fake-placid expression.

“Rude,” he says, “I knew this era had some awful manners but this is a new low, hunter.”

Zoey can't help but snarl in response. She's used to Saja boys now, honest.

Sure, the first time they’d shown up at the door her and Mira had gotten a little stabby, but they'd gotten over it once Rumi and Jinu had explained.

Apparently without Gwi-ma’s consuming influence they weren’t so brainwashed into stealing souls, but with the Rainbow Honmoon they were also a bit…stuck. They could snack on enough excess adoration from the their fans to get by. But they also needed to figure out how to become an actual group, legally speaking.

Thankfully Rumi had been in the middle of setting up her own entertainment company, separate from Celine, and she managed to convince Bobby that the best way to stay ahead of the Saja boys was to sign them. He’d cried a little at the genius. Zoey had even helped get them set up, elated to spend more time with the super cute Mystery Saja.

And sure, even if that hadn’t panned out exactly, she hadn’t held it against any of them.

In fact, if anyone seemed to have something against her, it was Baby Saja.

Who’s staring at her like she’s the weirdo. In her own living room.

“Intruders don’t get good manners,” Zoey says with a glare, refusing to back up from the way he’s leaning over her. “What are you doing here?”

“Doing you hunters a favor, of course.”

“As if!”

Zoey should have known Baby would become a pain in her side from the moment they had the signing. Sure, he’d ignored her the entire time, but he’d also half colonized her chair with his arm. And every time she’d tried to scoot away, and towards Mystery, he’d tugged it closer.

And that was before Gwi-ma’s influence was gone. Now that they had complete freedom of personality, it was like he’d tailored his to be as annoying as possible to her. Invading her space at every talent strategy meeting. Providing unasked for criticism of her lyrics during joint recording sessions. His unofficial mission to make her go as red as possible during their semi-regular barbecue nights.

The reminder heats her blood. “Is the favor trying to make my day worse, Saja-boy?”

Baby says pleasantly, “Yes, because it’s my sole entertainment in this new world.”

It takes all her restraint, and several promises to Rumi and Mira - the latter of whom just scowled and told her he’d probably enjoy it - to not stab him in his fake smiling face.

Zoey finally notices the bag slumped over his shoulder. She gasps. “Isn’t that Rumi’s?” Sinkal fly into her fingers and she takes back her truce. Kill Saja. “You’re stealing Rumi’s stuff!”

Baby vanishes in a cloud of purple, only to reappear at the end of the couch with his legs kicked up.

Looking entirely too comfortable, he says slowly, “Jinu is stealing her things. For a surprise weekend vacation in Jeju. Which is apparently part of this empire now.”

Zoey blinks, taken back. “Oh, aw.” Rumi had been meaning to go to the beach for ages, but between the aftermath of the Idol Awards with getting the Saja Boys established and their new comeback, it just hadn’t happened. And for Jinu to set one up now, knowing she needed a break. “That’s really sweet of him!”

For some reason Baby’s rolling his eyes.

She narrows hers. “But why do you have it? ”

“Surprise branding meeting with one of your pet humans.” He leans over the table now, inspecting the array of comfort couch snacks she’s put together. “Everyone’s been pulled in.” Baby makes a face at the Pepero, but snatches one of the Lotte lollipops. “It was either play delivery boy, or listen to Romance insist why he deserves the front placement for the next album cover.”

A last minute sync with the execs! Zoey perks up. “Oh, is Abby there, too?”

Baby shoots her a side-long glance as he unwraps his treat, something heavy in his gaze. “Why do you need that muscle brain?”

“Abby’s not returning my texts,” she says. “Also, stop eating my couch snacks.”

Baby pauses a moment, rolling the candy in his mouth and likely taking note of her avoidance. Then, casually, “Probably lost his phone again. He’s hit double digits, the media team is murderous.”

“Oh.” Zoey sinks back into the couch. There went her last good idea.

There was a sigh. “Now that’s pathetic.”

She looks up and Baby’s staring at her, frowning in a way she’s never seen before. “You’re usually more annoying than this, hunter. What, trying to steal your friend’s lover too hard?”

“Huh?” It takes a second to hit her.

“I am not!” Zoey exclaims, rising to her knees. “I would never, you stupid Saja boy! I needed some advice from a friend. Something you probably never had.”

He neatly sidesteps the insult. “What kind of advice?”

“Professional advice,” she rallies. “For the comeback.”

Baby raises a brow, lollipop pressed behind a disbelieving mouth that she’d love to punch if not for the stupid truce and the stupid fact they were actually stupid coworkers now.

So Zoey sits and seethes, going red at his condescension and the way now, she can’t stop watching the slow roll of his lips. He releases the candy with a soft pop and says, “I thought you hunters were the best in this insipid industry.”

His purple sweater hangs off him, but this close it doesn’t disguise the fact that he’s just as tall as Romance or Mystery, only more slender. There’s a sort of odd elegance to the curve of his forearm as he taps his candy against his stained lips.

Zoey shakes her disorientation off, falling back on her feet. “We are, it’s just—”

“Just?”

He’s somehow closer, peering down at her with dark blue eyes. She can smell him now, that same burnt smoke odor that all the Saja boys seem to radiate. Not to the normal person, of course not, but as a hunter it’s impossible not to pick it up. It always seemed worse around the Saja Boys maknae.

“The concepts can be…Well, you know? ”

“Do I?” Baby hums, blinking slowly, grey blue eyes fixed on her.

Growing up in California, wildfires had been a fact of life in the summer, and Zoey had seen more than her fair share of forest and houses razed to the ground.

“You might have to explain it to me, being new to the industry as I am. What exactly did you need help with?

It was the same smell now, less the banked ashes of a regular demon and more still smoldering undergrowth, so close she feels trapped in it.

His eyes glint at her, a flash of amber.

Zoey snaps finally, “Sexy! I have to do a sexy concept and I don’t know how!”

It’s a deep, painfully fresh breath of air she takes as Baby finally steps back.

“Oh. That’s easy enough.”

Clutching the side of the couch as she pulls herself up, legs strangely weak, Zoey forgets her embarrassment. “Of course you’d say that!”

The Saja Boy’s first comeback had been a revelation, thanks in no small part to a combination of Abby’s thirst traps and Baby Saja’s even more wild lyrical choices. Abby is sexy, that’s obvious to anyone with an active libido, but Baby’s somehow managed to gain the same reputation without taking off a single article of clothing.

That one photocard of him with just a bare clavicle had resold for the equivalent of a Gangnam apartment. “I don’t even know what kind of sexy concept I’m trying to go for. There are options apparently! And I don’t even know the first thing about being elegant—”

Zoey’s ramping up for a full rant, the kind she tends to get when she’s too stressed and that usually end up with Mira and Rumi layering the entire apartment’s worth of blankets on her, only to be cut off by —

“Playful.”

“Huh?”

Baby’s on the other end of the couch now, having also finished helping himself to one of her juice pouches. At her glare, he rolls his eyes slowly, which would look over dramatic on anyone else but only seems to make her feel small and dumb.

Zoey shrinks and then squares her shoulders and puffs up because rude, Saja boy!

“No one’s going to find you elegant and it’s too funny if you try to pretend. So lean into the cuteness. Be annoying and flirty like the brat you are.”

She gasps. “I’m not a brat!”

The smile Baby gives is her is so condescending she itches for her sinkal.

“And what does playful even mean?” Zoey says, folding her arms and huffing. “That’s just one of those random words they throw under your concept, like, high-pop or something.”

“It means you need someone to play with,” he says slowly, eyes fixed on her.“Someone to tell you how well you’re doing, so you can let yourself go.” Her eyes are fixed, somehow, on the slow twirl of her own lollipop in his hand. “Someone to win, so you can get out of your own head and focus on feeling good.”

There’s a lump in her throat and Zoey tells herself none of this appeals. That she has no clue what he’s talking about, even as memories flood her mind.

Her first and only boyfriend, the way she would fret under him as he panted atop her. The feeling of being sure she wasn’t doing it right, but too self conscious to say anything. A fleeting image - her boyfriend’s soft smile starting down at her replaced by Baby’s razor sharp one, as his thrusts turned from soft to brutal.

She shakes herself, hating the heat on her cheeks and the way Baby’s staring at her like he knows why.

“That’s not, I mean, that’s an option I guess. A playful sexy concept,” Zoey says quickly, looking away in what she tells herself is not fear he can read her mind, as Romance had insisted more than once. “Not that I asked you. I mean,” her eyes catch the duffel splayed none too neatly on the floor. “Don’t you have to get that to Jinu? And leave me to my misery?”

“That doesn’t sound as fun,” Baby says, “Besides, he deserves it for thinking he can still order me around. Now let’s get back to my incredibly generous offer to help you discover your provocative side.”

“You didn’t offer anything!”

“I’m still here, aren’t I?” He gestures to his presence on the couch, splayed languidly in a way she’s seen in old court portraits. “Obviously I’m waiting for you to agree before we start.”

Zoey has no clue where this has come from, or where this is going. “Start what?”

“Practicing, of course.”

Practice. Sexy concept. Baby Saja. Zoey reels at the separate thoughts, and almost goes catatonic at the images the combination sends flying through her head.

“Wait a minute!” She stands tall, drawing on every ounce of hunter decorum drummed into her even as one third of her brain is screaming bloody murder at the offer, another third is perked up in interest, and the last is casually reminding her that she’s trying to intimidate one of the oldest jeoseung sajas alive while in cute turtle pjs. Just the top half of the pajamas too. “No! No, there is no way I am asking you for help.”

Baby hums, tapping the couch with a stupidly long finger. “Right, you have someone else you can turn you this late. Your fellow hunters, probably? I’m sure they’re happy to help.”

“Yea—“ Zoey starts, then stops, because that’s not true. Rumi’ll be away for the weekend. Mira’s ridiculously busy with choreo arrangements. She could keep going through their old concepts and tapes, mirroring what she finds and—

She remembers the way she’d looked in the mirror, wearing the fancy underwear that burns against her skin now. The familiar self-conscious spiral.

“Or you stop trying to be them,” Baby says and if it had been patronizing, or snobby, or his usual asshole self she would have stabbed him, truce or no truce. But his voice is low and devoid of his usual mocking. “And take my help.”

Something in Zoey’s gut twists at the thought that he’s effectively telling her that…she’s enough. It’s rough around the edges, and stinks of his own self aggrandizement, but.

So Zoey says, “Fine. If you’re offering then…I’ll try it. I guess. But if you’re messing with me, I will stab you. Several times, and in very painful places.”

And as Baby just shoots her a sharp fanged smile around his lollipop, Zoey knows instinctively that she’s going to regret this.

Chapter 2

Notes:

Fic is technically complete, but splitting out the last chapter for my own sanity

When Zoey had been younger, she’d run away from home with just one roll of saran-wrapped kimbap and a rickety skateboard she’d traded three Sunlight Sister’s CDs for. 

It’d been stupid, a fit of pique at her parents when they were still married and arguing all the time. She’d tried to intervene by showing them one of her new notebooks, only to be snapped at by her mom and told to stop being so needy.

So, Zoey’d pushed down her sniffling to stop giving her dad ammunition as he tore into his wife for being a bitch, said it was okay with a wobbly smile and went back upstairs to finish her hagwon work. Which she did, tucking the papers in a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles folder to submit in the morning before slipping through her bedroom window and down the gutter. 

She’d made it all the way to the skatepark before stopping. 

It was the same park they never let her play on, insisting that it was safer to roll around the driveway. Zoey had thought about that park every day for months. 

She’d been so sure if she was good enough that her parents would change their minds and take her. That even if they never even seemed to notice her asking, they would wake her up one day and say they were all going together. To watch her. Cheer her on.  

But there in the dusk of a California winter, it was just her and her board, the cradle of the biggest full bowl in an empty park, and the pale blue-grey sky. 

A little girl trying to find something that was hers. 

Zoey’s forgotten a lot of things about that day, some of them intentionally, but she’s never forgotten that feeling at the top of a big mistake looking down — the gut-deep clench that warned her of danger and the frantic pounding of a heart that dared her to do it anyways. 

Looking back, it’d probably been her status as a latent hunter that had kept her arm from snapping off at the eventual crashout at the bottom. 

Zoey isn’t so sure it’ll help this time. 

Baby’s eyes track her as she paces, wringing her hands and saying, “I have some ideas in my notebooks, about what might work. Oh, but there’s not enough time, right? Right. At this point research is not as important as practice. With you. About being sexy.”

“Uh huh.”

“Which is something I can totally do!”

“Right.” 

“Or maybe, oh, I should change!” The lace burns under her pajamas and she’s pretty sure she’ll combust if he finds out about that. Or maybe she needs to keep it on? Or maybe change, but wear one of the concept test outfits since her pajamas weren’t exactly —

Baby’s voice stops her before she races back to her room. “It’s not about the clothes, hunter.”

Zoey tugs at the edge of her turtle shirt. “Right. What is it about, then?”

He gestures to her with the hand still holding the lollipop, bringing it in a slow arch up and down. She makes a face, “You just pointed to all of me.” 

“Yes,” Baby agrees.

Nervous energy converted to irritation like his presence is a natural converter, Zoey plants her hands on her turtle covered hips and scowls. “And what. Am I supposed to do about all of me?”

“That’s better.” He looks her up and and down. “But there’s something still missing.”

Better? She has no clue what he’s talking about. She says as much, only him to just hum in response.

It’s not often that Zoey sees Baby look contemplative, his expressions either completely flat or malicious in a way she’s still trying to convince Rumi is there in that fake-smile of his. Part of her is almost fascinated by this change, leaning in slightly as he opens his mouth to ask— 

“When’s the last time you’ve orgasmed?”

It takes a moment for the words to sink in. Zoey jumps back, putting the table between them.

“That-is-none-of-your-business! I can’t believe you would even—”

Baby nods, like it makes sense. 

“You’re probably too uptight with whoever, “ he flicks the lollipop in the air like it matters little to him, “you’ve been taking to bed to get off. You really should get rid of them if they’re so obviously not doing their job right.” 

His expression turns pleasant again, almost disturbingly so. “I can eat them, if you’d like.”

There’s a speculative sort of interest in his offer that pings on her hunter instincts, and Zoey quickly shoots it down with, “No, no eating.” Are the Saja Boys eating people? She feels like this is one of those things she needs to clarify with Jinu. She says, “I mean, ha, not there’s anyone to eat. Like, now. Or lately.”

The air stills. 

“Really? No one?”

Zoey rubs at the back of her neck now, embarrassed. Some of the other idols had their van dates and the contracts with non-entertainment crowds, but she’d always thought it so impersonal. Rumi and Mira had been the same way, focused only on the music and being Hunters, but now it’s different. 

Now they’re having fun with their Saja boys, but that was only possible since between hunter reflexes and demonic instincts there's very little chance of Dispatch catching wind of anything. Zoey had hoped a bit in the beginning with with Mystery…but he hadn’t been interested in the same way. Or at least, he’d never made a move and she’d never made a move and…

Zoey says finally, “I mean, not since I debuted. So, a while? I mean, I can handle myself.” Then winces and waves her hands. “Not that I handle myself a lot! Or too much! Or, actually, I’m not talking about this, it’s none of your business!” 

There’s something predatory in the way he’s looking at her. The air’s not so much still as it is tense, waiting for something. It has Zoey squirming, part of her wishing she could break eye contact and run, but a stronger part, suspiciously close to hunter instincts, telling her that would be an extremely bad idea. 

Abruptly the feeling disappears, as Baby smiles. “Alright, then there’s an obvious next step.”

“Oh.” Zoey reels at the change in his demeanor. And the way he looks a little too pleased. “And that would be…?”

“It’s easy. Seduce me.” 

Then he lays back against the couch with his stupid lollipop. And has the gall to put it back in his mouth. 

What. 

What? 

At what point Zoey jumped behind the couch, she’s unsure, only that he’s her sole barrier between her and the dare in his voice. “That’s not going to help!”

“Why not? You obviously have intimacy issues. So, be intimate.” 

She flushes. “You don’t have to make it so hard!” 

The room is quiet as she realizes what she’s said. 

Baby smirks around the sucker and Zoey, impossibly, turns a brighter red. “Shut up.”

He mimes zipping his lips with the candy she’s quickly growing to hate.

Changing the topic abruptly, Zoey shoots a look to the door and says, “Someone could come in. What about that?”

“They won’t,” he says, “Any other useless objections?" 

A million and one. If she had a notebook in front of her, she could fill it in seconds. But that wouldn't help the issue, would it?

Zoey bites her lips. “How do I…how do even know this will work?”

“You don’t,” there’s a challenge in his voice, matched only by the glint in his now demonically thin eyes, “But are you really a person who doesn’t even try?”

Stupid Baby Saja and his ability to press her exact buttons. 

It was the same in their team hang outs, her ability to seamlessly fit herself in with the Saja Boys so Rumi and Mira didn’t think she felt like a third wheel always hampered by the way Baby would snipe and poke at her. 

Turning her automatic practiced smiles into snarls at his insults. Her agreement to get the smallest portion of dakkalbi into a tong fight when he tried to steal it from her plate. The matching light in his eyes when she snapped at him every time he took up too much of her space.

She’s not someone who gives up. And she refuses to let him, of all people, think she could be.

So Zoey draws herself up, cute turtle pjs and all, and prepares to seduce. 

Then gets stuck trying to figuring out the very first step. 

Her mind races even as her face freezes. Okay, not a problem! Just rationalize it out. Like a diary list. What’s the first step of seducing someone? 

Her eyes fly between the lazily blinking Baby and the expanse of the cushions. 

Alright, sharing space. That’s probably a good idea. 

She sits down on the entire other end of the couch, ignoring Baby’s deadpan expression, and smiles. Same space. That’s progress. Sure, there were like, a few feet between them, but she could work her way up.

Next, Zoey folds her legs, like she’s seen Mira do in the photoshoots. Her pajama shirt rides up a little and reveals a bare thigh, painfully exposed without a sweatshirt or blanket to cover it. 

She does her best to swallow down the nervousness, but it doesn’t make it far once his eyes flicker down a second, then back up. His gaze is pitying. 

She uncrosses them quickly and says “Give me a second, okay!”

He says nothing, just watching her, gaze a heavy weight on her nerves. 

Zoey adjust herself and tries again, going for pouty this time. Fans liked pouty, right? Her lips tense and this time, Baby looks concerned. 

It takes a second for her to break.

“Ah!” Burying her face in her hands, she does her best not to yell. And fails, more than a little. “You lied! This is not easy.” 

Baby sighs, finally speaking. “Of course, this type of thing is difficult for someone so…pure.” 

“I’m not a virgin,” Zoey snaps back, pressing her hands on her flaming cheeks.

“And yet, you’re positively dripping with maidenly virtue.” 

“I don’t even know why I’m letting you help!”

He makes a sound and starts to stand. “Fine, I’ll take the luggage and leave. I’m not the one with a photoshoot in seventeen hours. I’m sure they’ll be much more understanding, what with their editorial deadlines and all.” 

“No, no, stop!”

Panic brings her closer, sliding forward. 

Gravity takes over and she ends up almost pinning him to the couch in an effort to keep him from getting up. One of her legs had pushed between his own in the rush of movement and finds herself now neatly perched atop him. Her breath catches. He smiles up at her. 

Her body jerks away on instinct, a movement aborted by the way his knees suddenly squeeze her thigh close. Trapped.

Zoey’s heart beats hard, in her chest, her ears, and even her throat judging by the way his eyes are now fixed to the pale expanse. 

“And here I thought,” he says darkly, “That you didn’t wanna sit with no Saja boy.”

Zoey gets the sudden, impossible, thought that there is very little about this interaction that the demon under her didn’t plan. 

It’s disconcerting and makes her feel like she’s even more out of her depth, so she ignores it in favor of getting this over with and making him eat his stupid Saja words.  

Her knee sinks in the cushions and she hovers awkwardly above him, the position of power feeling like anything but with his half-lidded eyes fixed immovably on hers and lips tilted just so. 

Zoey feels that fire in gut flare again, wanting, needing to show him that she can do this. That she’s not the simpering target he seems to think she is. It’s usually a feeling that have her reaching for the strings of the honmoon, strumming her sinkal into being. 

It’s a feeling that shouldn’t have a place here, in this setting, with his thigh cradled between her hips and her tits all but shoved in his face, but the dare in his eyes makes it feel better than okay, makes it feel right.

Her palms are itching, missing the weight of her weapons in them, and for some reason that brings her attention to his own. One hand is still infuriatingly shrugged over the head of the couch, all casual and bored. 

The other is tapping out a quick beat with his still unfinished cherry lollipop, elegantly long fingers curled loosely around the candy. 

One-two. One-two. One-two.

It throws her for a moment, but then she flushes. 

Her heartbeat. 

He’s copying the sound of her own pounding heart. This jerk.

This condescending, arrogant jerk. 

She knows the moment he realizes she’s figured it out, his lips twisting into a mocking not-really-a-smile. 

If pressed, Zoey couldn’t explain why she did what she did next. Her lips part slightly and the taste of Lotte Jaws’ sour watermelon-orange floods her mouth. 

All she knew was that if he was going to be paying that much attention to that stupid lollipop then she was determined to make it worth his while. 

---

A voice in the back of Zoey’s head is telling her she’s being extremely, ridiculously, suicidally stupid right now, but she ignores it in favor of focusing on the task in hand.

Literally.

She licks at the candy in short strokes, lips catching at the ends. She’s not brave enough to look up yet, fixed instead on the taste and texture of the lollipop. It’s one of her favorites, both sweet and sour in a way that isn’t common in Korean sweets. 

There’s an unfamiliar bitter sheen to it now, like incense, heady in a way that makes her gut clench as she realizes what the taste has to be. 

Zoey’d never really understood the whole indirect kiss thing, figuring it was one of those things she was too American to get. But the thought that she's tasting him now as he watches makes her shudder, distracting. 

She redoubles her effort, covering his hand with her smaller one as she maneuvers the treat closer. Baby doesn’t resist. His green tipped nails peek through her own, framing the blue of the sucker, but nothing more. It’s only after a few more moments that she’s brave enough to pop it into her mouth, forcing herself to make eye contact as she did. 

Amber greets her, demonic gold slits that are fixed on where her mouth’s engulfed the candy. Greedy. 

Now that’s an expression she’s never seen on Baby’s face. 

Zoey gasps, involuntarily, and his sharp gaze returns to meet hers. Then, slowly, Baby removes the lollipop. 

It leaves her mouth, glistening, and goes right into his. 

She watches it disappear behind his slightly blue lips, the hollowing of his cheeks as he sucks it hard. A hint of a too sharp tongue peeks out when he removes the candy, like there’s a taste it’s chasing.

“Not a bad start,” Baby says, face placid again. His eyes are still demon-gold, the partial transformation not showing any signs of reversing. “What next, little hunter?”

She’s still frozen, watching him as he does her, her mind completely blank. Half of her is screaming for dear life, asking why in the Honmoon she’s in the lap of a demon and more turned on than she’s been in literal years. 

The other half is too focused on the latter part of the question, shuddering arousal compounded by the feel of lace and silk caging her in under the pajamas. 

She maybe understands why people wore fancy underwear now. Also she’s pretty sure her nipples are poking out of her shirt. Both come with their own freak out. 

After some time with no answer, Baby huffs. 

And presses the lollipop back, not too-gentle, against her bottom lip. Then harder. 

Zoey reacts without thinking, almost grateful at the challenge, the tip of her tongue darting out to lick it. His eyes are gleaming as he watches her catch the candy, lathe and roll it none too delicately.  

His voice is a murmur, “Silly little hunter. Isn’t this better, not thinking?”

So lost in the sensation, the purpose of it, Zoey can only hum. Her licks comes faster, wanting more. She’s pretty sure some of her drool makes it down the stick, dribbling freely now. A frantic thought occurs that some is making it to his own hand. She panics, reaching further. 

Zoey meant to just catch the spit before it goes too far, but be it chance or a sudden twist of his wrist, and she finds herself deep-throating the entire stick. 

She pulls back but it follows. A blue-sugar tip presses against the back of her throat, fixed. She can feel the tips of his fingers pressing against her teeth, her gums, in her. 

Zoey starts to gag, once, and Baby shushes her like an errant child. “It’s alright, you’re doing well, Hunter.” He rolls the lollipop against her tongue. “So good.” Despite how patronizing Zoey knows he’s being, the words strike true. 

He likes it. She’s doing good. 

Her stomach goes soft at the praise and Zoey finds herself relaxing slowly. His voice continues, “In fact, you deserve a reward, hm?”

Somewhere in this game she forgot their exact position, both of them hunched over the couch with her all-but straddling him, but is immediately reminded once he removes the all-but. 

There’s a faint triumph at the feel of his other hand, finally removed from the back of the couch and pressing gingerly against the curve of her hip. It snaps - or shatters - into pleasure when he uses it to tug her down on his thigh. Hard. 

She’s wet, slipping against the silk underwear and the rough material of his pants in a sensation that sends another jolt between her legs.

The jolt electrifies into a sharp shudder up her spine as he guides her into a slow rock. She’s throbbing with it. How is she already throbbing? When did she even get this worked up? 

Baby seems to know, if the way he hums is anything to go by. “It’s okay, little hunter. I know just what to do with you, don’t worry. I - have - you.” 

The words are damning, not so much a comfort as a threat, but Zoey feels both like another heartbeat between her legs. Her clit is pounding. The lollipop is moving now, both hands in time, the one on her ass rocking her and the one in her mouth choking her, and she gags every other breath. 

And still, Zoey wants more. 

But he’s carefully controlling the way she’s moving on his leg, not nearly as hard and fast as she needs. He stops every needy jerk of her hips, forcing her to follow his pace. All she can do is suck harder on the candy in her mouth, laving her tongue over the head, the stick, even his too sharp fingernails scraping across the roof of her mouth. It’s not enough. 

The sounds Zoey’s making are too much like whines now, even to her. 

“You need more?” Baby’s voice is so calm, and it makes her want to tear her hair out. Or his hair out. But instead she just nods her head, meeting his gaze through her own that has grown increasingly blurry. “You took my candy and you’re asking for more?”

She freezes then, less from her own volition, and more with the sudden grip of his fingers have of her ass, pressing her down so firmly and on just the right spot. Zoey gasps. His eyes are cold, and she realizes, bright gold and sharp with a sickening demonic malice. 

“You’re such a selfish little brat, ” Baby says softly, and presses the lollipop in so deep she’s choking at the same time his own leg raises, rubs just right. 

Her pleasure spirals upwards, despite his words. There’s a wet spot she can feel forming under her. She circles her hips in a faster grind, and he lets her, so she chases the feeling before he changes his mind. The candy in her mouth is steady, almost centering. 

As are his words, “You can’t help it, can you. So needy.” His hand squeezes her ass appreciatively, rolling the muscle and fat between fingers too sharp to be human. “You just need to come, don’t you?” She’s shaking her head, or nodding, she can’t tell anymore. “Then go, take what you need.” Her whole body is now fixed on the sensation of her clit catching against his jeans at this perfect angle. 

“Come.” Baby’s breath is hot on her neck. “Right in my lap, sucking my treat, like the desperate brat you are, Zoey.”

And it’s done, she’s coming so hard her muscles feel like they’re electrifying, tight around him, his leg, his hand, him—

The orgasm feels like it lasts forever. 

Zoey barely feels him move her, floating on the last zaps of sensation, her core clenching on nothing and her limbs so loose she feels about to float. She vaguely feels her turtle pajamas ride up higher as her legs are parted, a hand settling a knee so both are nestled in the soft cushions. Something harder settling between her thighs. 

But it’s not until the taste of watermelon-orange is removed from the back of her throat that she gasps and returns to the moment. Part of her feels it like a missing limb. 

Prying too-wet eyes open, Zoey sees Baby lick the remains of the lollipop - and then bite. Too sharp teeth cracking the blue orb into pieces. She sucks in a breath at the display, the reminder that he’s the furthest thing from mortal. 

He frowns. “Barely any left.” 

The soft languid calm in her chest is dispelling now, something nervous shaking in its wake.

“Sorry,” Zoey says without thinking, the word so raspy she shudders. 

Baby’s eyes are still slit gold, focused on her with all the weight of a hungry predator. His fingers lightly brush a still wet cheek. When did she start crying…?

“You’re not,” he declares, “But you will be.” 

 

 

Notes:

hey guess what a lotte jaws lollipop looks like

Chapter 3

Notes:

Fun fact my initial plan for this fic was for Zoey’s training to take place over a few weeks or so of kinky practice sessions, but then Baby insisted on getting his dick wet immediately so. Mazel.

With that pronouncement Zoey straightens, the truth of it pinging on her hunter instincts. And then goes still at the awareness she’s somehow completely straddling him now, with evidence of his hunger heavy and directly against her.

His cock is so hot she feels it like a brand.

She jerks up on instinct, but it turns into a bounce as he swiftly pulls her back down. He’s so hard and she’s so empty and the groan that leaves her at the movement is pornographic, Like, literally, a sound that she had heard in pornos before and laughed at because surely nothing felt that good.

“O-Oh,” Zoey lets another sound leave her as he settles her more solidly against him because, yes, it could. The heat of his arousal is insane. A long line that tugs slightly on the thin fabric of her fancy underwear in a jerky slide and makes her realize that if she was wet before, now she’s absolutely soaking.

Baby too, if the way he smiles is any indication. If not, then his words leave little to the imagination. “It’s kind of impressive how pathetic wet you are.”

Zoey feels herself blush in embarrassment, something hilarious considering the situation. He thinks so too, smirking as he meets her eyes- and it’s something she’ll think about later, just how absolutely in accord they seem to be at this moment.

“Well? Say it, hunter.”

She swallows, heart racing. “Say what?”

There’s a groan, from her, as he rolls his hips up into hers. He’s infuriating impassive, even as she squelches against him and her heart drops in mortification. “How wet you are. For me.”

“I - can’t just—”

Another roll. “Now, before I get bored.”

Zoey wants to kill him but the thought of him leaving her like this, aching and shuddering and still so empty, feels like it might just kill her.

“I-I’m wet,” her cunt clenches at the admittance, agreeing and she adds, in case it’s not enough and he’s absolutely the type to hold it against her, “For you, I’m wet for you.”

“Now was that so difficult?” Baby’s smile is angelic. The hands that sneak under her shirt to squeeze the globes of her ass and crush her, press her more firmly against him - are anything but. “You just have to be good, and I’ll take care of you, little hunter.”

The humiliation swirls with an odd warmth and Zoey is so grateful. “Yes, I’ll be good, uh—” She rocks without thinking, his cockhead catching at her entrance and kept from sliding in only by the thin layer of her underwear.

They both gasp at this, although his is more a sharper than normal intake of breath. But still, it’s the first real break in his composure since whatever-this-was started and Zoey’s eyes dart to his in surprise. Of course, they’re already guarded.

Baby’s lips, tinged with a demonic blue, are twisted into a mean smile. Sharp claws trail up her thigh, catching the edge of her shirt. “I think I’ll take my own treat now.”

Whatever Zoey had been expecting, the sudden breeze on her torso was not it. She twists and sees the crumbled heap of her turtle pajamas on the floor. “When did you—”

She turns back to him frowning at her chest. Or more specifically, the roughly three inches of material on the lace bra. “Is this new?”

His voice is hard and she’s taken back, “No, I just got this for—”

In his new apparent custom of not letting her get through a sentence unless she’s moaning it, Baby cuts her off by cutting it off.

Zoey stares at the pieces of her very designer, very irreplaceable brassiere falling open from one quick flick of his claws. Her temper sparks and she combusts. “Hey! That was a gift from—oh. Oh, that’s—”

Demon tongues are apparently forked. And slick. And very, very, very —

“A-ah~ Hot—”

Baby removes his mouth from her breast with a wet pop that speaks too highly to the sheer suction power. Then moves to the other. She moans as he sucks at the nipple so hard her hips writhe. The skin he’s laving with his tongue feels tingly, and he’s sparing no inch.

Zoey has a fleeting memory of her initial hunter training, that the fluids of some demons are mild paralytics. Or was it aphrodisiacs?

The chill when he stops is almost too much, but it’s quickly offset by the way he exhales hard, breath like steam against one heavy breast. Then another. She smells something now, the same smokey incense, but stronger.

His hands frame both when he’s done, sharp blue talons squeezing her breasts in slow, appreciative rolls.

And then he just stares.

Zoey bites her lip at the sudden burst of self-consciousness. It’s been a while since anyone’s seen her naked outside of a professional context, quick changes and photoshoots. She knows she’s attractive, objectively, but what if he was expecting—

Baby’s voice is low.

“I’m almost upset you have no other lovers.”

He rolls a nipple between his claws, fixated. Self-consciousness escapes her in a heavy breath and, without thinking, Zoey arches into his hold. He watches the flesh strain between his claws and she can’t help but tease, “I probably would have asked their - ah - help, then.”

She moans when his hands squeeze harder, crushing. His eyes are furious black slits in gold, but his blue lips are smiling like she’s playing a game he likes. “I would have enjoyed killing them for this view.” 

Zoey opens her mouth to say something, but he leans back in and mortal language is lost to her for some time. He worships her breasts with tongue and teeth, lapping at the soft sides, nipping at her darkened nipples with teeth too sharp to be anything but demonic.

The sounds in the room are high pitched, a flurry of pants and whines, coupled with wet suckling sounds and the rustling of clothes.

She’s shaking with sensation, realizing suddenly that his other hand has slunk over her ass and between her legs, cutting through the silk underwear neatly before he —

Zoey hunches over, all the air punched out of her, arms falling forward and finding only his shoulders to grip for stability. The position puts her breasts more firmly against his face, something that Baby takes immediately advantage of, sharp teeth nicking the underside of her bust like he’d swallow her whole given the chance.

It’s nothing to the way his taloned fingers slide through her folds, pressing up-up-up—

Don’t you usually start with one? Zoey thinks, her thoughts taking on a tinge of delirium. But no, it’s not one impossibly long finger curling through her passage, but two, pressing firmly in and stretching her in deep thrusts. It’s a special kind of humiliation, realizing she’s so wet that it only barely feels like enough.

She’s not sure how his nails aren’t slicing her to ribbons, if they have some kind of pleasure mode, or if she’s just fucked up enough to enjoy the tinge of demon claw against her insides. It must be some combination because she’s shaking again, harder than before.

“Ah, ah!” Her voice is so needy and fucked out, Zoey’s no longer surprised at what comes out of her mouth. “Please- ah - please, don’t—”

She’s at the edge again, surprisingly, so close now.

And then Baby stops.

His mouth separates from her slick chest. His hand retreats, leaving her empty, horribly empty.

“Why you—”

Zoey almost stabs him at the self-satisfied sound he makes when she writhes, still caught in place.

Baby looks pleased at her struggle. “Desperate thing, aren’t you?”

But there’s a rustle of clothing amidst her protests and suddenly something more is pressing into her.

“Yes,” she hisses, trying to sink down on him. Then is stopped.

Baby’s voice is calm.

“Beg.”

There’s no give, no quarter, in the blank expression on Baby’s face now. Sculpted in stone, if not for the guileless smile as he adds on, “And make it sweet, little hunter.”

Zoey sucks in a breath, the push at her entrance now still. She’s stuck with just the tip, a bulbous stretch, a promise that has the rest of her cunt sucking and weeping in anticipation.

His smile doesn’t change. This motherfucker. Zoey squeezes her thighs, tries to pull him closer and when that fails, clenches over what she’s been given, trying to break his resolve, to tempt.

But he’s a demon, and knows the tricks of the trade, and so only holds her tighter and smiles that awful innocent smile wider.

Zoey knows that smile, has seen it plastered to the front page of magazine and blog sites, seen it from across the table at bbq nights when the others are arguing over who took the last LA kalbi rib.

Baby even leans forward to press it between her breasts, like he knows the riotous of emotions rushing through her chest and wants to breathe it in as his due.

“Ach! I’m not going to - you can’t make me do that,” Zoey fights, because of course she does. She refuses to believe he would leave her like this.

But it’s Baby and of course he could.

She holds off for what feels like ages, but, death to her ego, is probably more like a minute or two. A handful at most. She writhes, curses, pushes, and even tries to stupidly snake a hand to the spot between her own legs, only to be denied at every turn and at the last one, rewarded with both her arms tightly secured behind her own back.

The new position forces her chest forward, which Baby is now taking every advantage of, sucking each nipple so hard she has to squeeze her eyes shut not to cry. Well, cry harder.

It takes one more shallow thrust, the fat, bulbous head of his cock catching on positively dripping opening just not-enough, before Zoey breaks. “Fine!”

He pauses, still nipping at her breast, as he looks up to her undoubtedly broken expression.

“You win, please.” Zoey’s heaving, tears are dripping down her face, and she’s sniffling from the pain of not having. “Please, please, fuck me. Please!”

After a moment, Baby unlatches from her chest slowly, tongue leaving last and with a string of liquid that’s almost too sticky to be drool trailing after. “And why should I? Weren’t you the one supposed to be seducing me?”

This fucking—

Zoey desperately jerks down and is denied again. Her thighs are trembling harder than they did on hour eight of a full day choreo practice. Her cunt aches like she’s been gutted.

“I will! I will, I swear, just let me,” a gasp, “I’ll be so good, just let me and I’ll be—”

“What?”

“Yours,” Zoey says, locking eyes with him and even through the blur of the tears she sees the glow of his own grow brighter. It’s not what he expected her to say, she realizes. So, she repeats it, “Please, I’ll be. All yours.”

There’s an involuntary push against her entrance like he couldn’t help himself. It’s coupled by a flash of patterns across his skin, so quickly she could’ve blinked and missed it.

“You should say things like that, little hunter." The claws holding her hands back feel like manacles. “I’m not your insipid dog, and you know better than most I’m not nearly as kind as the mortals believe. What I want, you’re only beginning to handle.”

Zoey feels her hunter sense pang a warning, but can’t help it. “Still, yours. Please.” She sniffles a bit. “Please, fuck me.”

Baby’s eyes go from slits to black holes, reflecting her own fucked up face back at her. “Oh, I’m going to ruin you, Zoey.”

He releases his hold and she sinks down on his cock in a smooth slide, more gravity than intention. She’s so wet there’s no resistance, and he hums at this. He’s hot, much hotter than it should be, and despite his disinterested act she can feel his cock throb, pulsing, once it’s in.

He’s watching where they meet like it’s a show, seeming to catalogue every flutter of her cunt around him, as if he’s memorizing it.

The slick sound of their flesh meeting. The whines as she clenches through the burn. Then forcing her down further, in short pumps that she feels in her throat.

“Good little hunter,” Baby croons.

He settles so deep inside her Zoey feels a pang of panic, and then he hums in satisfaction, a sound she feels more than hears.

“Now, show me just how needy you are. How good you’ll be. You are seducing me, remember?”

He’s trying to bait her, she knows, but there’s apart of her desperate to have him keep praising her. Wanting her. And so Zoey bites her lips as she raises herself up on shaky thighs, and then back down.

The first slide of his length has her head spinning. It’s too much. His claws scratch down her sides, doubtlessly leaving marks that’ll take more concealer than she has to cover up.

She’s only just getting used to the stretch before he’s tapping on her ass with a sharp claw - hurry up.

But she can’t care, not when a sharp thumb finds its way to her clit and begins circling.

“Pretty hunter, so pathetically needy. You probably wouldn’t even stop if someone did come in, would you?”

The next few slides have her gutted, breath punched out and something lighter replacing it, a high oxygen proof that has her brain melting.

“Or maybe you want them to see, see how good you’re being. All pretty and fucked out, riding my cock. It should be your next photo card.”

Zoey whimpers as she speeds up, breathing fast. There’s a spot he’s hitting that feels almost too good, making her want to curl up and brace.

“Then they could see you the way I do, the smiling brat desperate for someone to fuck her. Too bad I got here first.”

The last words are growled more than spoken, rumbling through her body unnaturally. He’s moving now, meeting her at every drop of her hips and working the claw at her clit faster. Through blurred vision she can see his patterns, solid now.

“Don’t think I forgot what you said. Being good for me. Being mine.”

The next slide is combined with him latching onto her neck, teeth sharp, nipping before his voice a hiss in her ear—

“Now come on my demon cock like the good little hunter slut you are.”

— and there’s not much Zoey can do about that but come, so hard she’s shaking and still, still begging —

“Yes, yes, yes!—”

The cry that leaves her is a full octave above her vocal range.

Zoey sees stars as she shatters and feels like she’s floating among them, like some cosmic underwater ballet. The tides rock her until she’s back on shore, to reality, to the smell of sex and the slapping sound of her still being fucked.

Because of course Baby’s still fucking her, and has the gall to be languid about it, bottoming out with each thrust and savoring the punched out noise she makes, humming pleasantly against her chest in what has to be some kind of sick satisfaction.

He’s staring up at her and she stares back.

Sharp, pupils shining so brightly she can actually see the glow, gold light cast heavy on her face and chest. Pale, almost grey skin. A slick, razor tooth smile rimmed with swollen blue lips. He’s greedy, she can feel it, everything he’s taken, she’s given, not enough. The emotion almost too much for his frame.

Zoey gasps a breath at a particular sharp thrust of his hips, realizing suddenly what she has understood long before this — he’s not her type.

But he’s like her.

Baby’s already opening his mouth and saying something but the realization has her giddy, bubbling with it, and Zoey can’t help what she does next.

It’s been a while, since she’s kissed someone.

Her lips mash against his, a clanging of teeth that almost hurts, but she’s so full of emotion she wants to cry. His lips are soft, wet, canines sneaking over so sharp she can’t help but lick them.

It takes a second for him to respond, a second where the bubbles start to pop and she’s sixteen year old Zoey again, who belongs nowhere and to no one, but just keeps trying and failing and trying and —

Another second, long claws digging into the back of her neck, gripping and adjusting and Baby surges forward. The breath she squeaks out is sucked into his lungs, and more, as his tongue chases hers, hot and sinuous and slick. And long.

Honmoon, Mira did not mention that their tongues were extendible!

She feels him trace the same path as the lollipop and gags, but lets him. She feels the forked tip in her throat. It’s all she can do, letting him adjust the position of the kiss, gliding her lips on his, but letting him set the pace and pressure. It slows, turning languid, tongue following the same pace as his cock, fucking her from both ends. It’s calming, somehow, just letting him.

Zoey can barely think from the zen of it all, managing only a soft moan when his talons start to cradle her stomach. Then press, unerringly, against the hard line of his own erection moving inside her.

“Oh!” Her eyes fly open and meet his, and Zoey knows in that moment, she just knows that he never closed them.

That Baby’s been watching her, eyes half lidded and glowing gold, the entire time he’s had his tongue half way to her gut and cock halfway up.

That he’s been watching her every second he’s been fucking her.

That he’s been watching her far longer than just tonight, and there’s very little he doesn’t see and less he doesn’t want.

It makes something inside her shudder and shake and then fit back together, somehow better than before. She feels him thrust inside her and rub outside, her breathing fast. Greedy. Selfish. And he wants her.

He’ll have to earn it.

Baby’s sharp smile grows like he knows what she’s thinking and before she can stop, her lips find his with unerring accuracy and bite.

Baby bites back, because of course he does, and doesn’t drop the smug smile, because of course he doesn’t.

Zoey would think more not-so-nice things about him if she wasn’t on the come down from her second orgasm at his hands and terrifyingly on the upswing of another, impossible high.

She tastes blood on her lips and doesn’t know whose it is, only that his tongue is lapping it up with a singular focus that has her clenching.

Her hands are buried in his scalp now and she digs them in, not sure if she’s pulling him closer or away, only that if he wasn’t a demon he would probably have lost hair by now.

In a dreamy moment Zoey admits that if she wasn’t a hunter she’d probably be dealing with a punctured lung, as his strokes get harder, faster, her own hard breaths merging with his. Her hands turn to clawing at his neck now, his back, whatever she can reach, scratching and fucking down into him as best she can even as he ramps further up.

It’s at her choked gasp of, “Please, yours—” - that things change. He breaks away from her bruised and sore breasts. A curse in a language she doesn’t even begin to understand.

And then she’s airborne, a second, maybe two, slammed back onto hot cushions and gasping a breath before it’s slammed out of her with the return of his cock in her abused cunt. Her hands, grasping, are pinned useless to the arm of the couch with one claw, so tight and sharp she can hear the upholstery ripping.

His patterns are flickering, casting a sick purple light over her sweat sheened skin. Her cunt is aching, overstimulated still but still eagerly sucking in his somehow impossibly thicker dick.

If Baby had been fucking her before, then he’s absolutely pounding now, making her twist and writhe as she takes it.

Zoey doesn’t leave it there, doesn’t let him sideline her, not with his own sudden need sending hers sky high. She curls her legs around his hips and pushes back, groans mixing as the angle gives her more of him. And him more of her.

A free hand grips her knee and presses her impossibly wider, stretching, stretching, and then slotting over one shoulder in such a perfect fit she keens. Then the other leg and she screams.

She’s stretched out completely under him and he just laughs, the asshole. “I knew you would be like this. Desperate.”

Zoey tries to burrow her face in the cushions in what she knows is a mistake, and is rewarded in turn for it with his clawed hand on her throat forcing it back.

He even brushes the fucked out tears from her eyes so she has a better view of his, shining down on her.

“No, no, no hiding. No ignoring. It was only my arm on your chair before, but now,” Baby grinds himself so deep she feels like she’s gagging on it, “It’s my cock in your pretty, wet, bratty cunt.”

The pupils are wide now, red and all encompassing, the only gold left what’s reflecting down on her, putting their positions in stark relief.

Her, the hunter, spread open for the taking. Half in the air, underwear lost somewhere in the scuffle, lace bra slit open to the sides exposing bruised breast that bounce with each thrust. Both legs pinned to her chest, stuck so completely she can only arch back and let him fuck her as he likes.

Him, the demon, talons out and sharpened and holding her down as his hips piston in and out so fast she can only sob and cry and beg and —

“Please, good, please, yours, Baby, please—”

The next thrust sends her skyward, babbling, as her whole body tenses up and gives in the same moment. The next few thrusts are seen only from the foggy haze of the aftershocks, the claws digging into her wrists, around her throat, his smirk changing to a snarl, the groan in his voice as he tells her to take it and she does, does because now he’s hers all—‘

“Mine.”

Zoey floats and doesn’t come down for more time than she knows.

The world’s changed slightly, with the distant absence of the lingerie set she walked in with and the addition of a very soft purple sweater. She sits up and winces. Even the cashmere is too rough against her aching  chest. And the less said about downstairs, the better.

Thankfully there’s a hand on her stomach, already pressing her back down. She lets it, falling back into a suspiciously more solid couch.She starts to give some thought to this but then there’s a Lotte jelly pouch on her stomach and she grabs at it with greedy fingers. “Ooh!” And drains it in several short pulls, only to be replaced with another.

Reality has settled further in once Zoey finishes that one. She tilts her head enough to peer up and is rewarded with the view underneath the chin of a remarkably human looking Baby. Whose attention is completely fixed to his phone.

She’d wonder if he noticed her at all if not for the hand still on her stomach, settled rather possessively.

Zoey has a mind to ask him what the fuck just happened, but before she can gather the energy, the hand moves and she jolts at the pinch to her breast. “Ouch!”

“I thought hunter healing worked faster than that.”

She wriggles, “It does, just not when a demon tries to pretty much bite my tits off.”

Baby rolls a nipple with his now soft human fingers and even through the pain and haze, an interested twinge shoots through her cunt. Zoey flushes and presses her legs together, hoping he didn’t notice. He gives her a side-long glance.

She narrows her eyes in warning.

He returns the look. “Don’t tempt me, little hunter.”

Not sure what part was tempting, Zoey instead scoffs. “I’m not little.”

“Littest.”

“Says you!”

“You need a reminder of size so soon?”

Zoey buries her face half in the cushions and half on the surprisingly hard muscle of his thigh and he must be in a good mood, because he lets her. She still mutters under her breath, “Asshole.”

He hums in agreement.

Her own phone is on the table and she stretches for it. When it looks like she’ll need to get up, turning, it’s swiftly placed in her hand and her shoulders repositioned to lay more firmly. Zoey eyes him from her position but he says nothing, still scrolling.

Her chat with Abby has a new message. She opens it and frowns.

[abs_dominator]: wait help with what

[abs_dominator]: I don’t see any messages

[abs_dominator]: on my comp now lost my phone again somewhere lol

[abs_dominator]: jinu so mad pls get Rumi to suck him off for a bro’s survival :pray_hands:

Zoey replies.

[tortlally_rad]: [.png] screenshot_texts_053

[tortlally_rad]: huh????

And with a sinking feeling, she presses call.

Something on her stomach buzzes.

Zoey goes still, but another hand reaches into the sweater pocket to pull out an obnoxious pink and bedazzled phone.

Baby clicks his tongue as he shuts it off, then swiftly tosses it over the back of the couch.

She stares at him, open mouthed. 

He has the gall to look utterly unrepentant. “Yes?”

“You little shit, you planned this! You-you set this whole thing up so just—”

“I could have you desperate and begging me to fuck you like the brat you are?”

A pause, where all the remaining blood in Zoey’s body pools to her face and chest at the memory. His smile says he’s thinking much the same. The long tongue that slides out to lick his still bruised lips confirms it. “Yep.”

Zoey growls and sits up to launch herself at his stupid face, when she’s abruptly falling through a pink cloud.

It’s only hunter reflexes that keep her from knocking her head against the table — that and the sudden pull of two surprisingly steady arms as they settle her down so her spine is pressed against the long line of his body instead.

There’s a blanket over her legs now. Her favorite Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles blanket. Where the fuck did he get her favorite Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles blanket.

Baby’s hand is back on her tit, and has the nerve to squeeze it mollifyingly as he says, “You ignored all my previous attentions. Really, it’s your fault I had to use this opportunity.” 

Zoey can’t help but arch into his touch, heels digging into the cushions, despite wanting to cut that same hand off. It’s a heady mix of arousal and antagonism that takes her a moment to swim through and process what he’s said.

“Attention? All you ever do when you’re around is try to pick a fight with me!”

He blinks down at her. It takes a second for the dots to connect.

Abby and Romance’s pained expressions every time Zoey complained about not knowing what she’d done to their maknae.

Mira’s very firm instructions to never actually stab him because he would enjoy it.

Rumi’s tentative recommendation that she try and reframe their interactions in the context of his status as an older demon, as her and Jinu exchange awkward looks.

Mystery’s habit of making himself scarce every time Zoey tried to flirt with him, one time literally teleporting from backstage before a planned Pepero challenge show. It’d taken Bobby and the media team weeks to push down the rumors of them starving their idols.

Baby’s face is over hers, loose blue strands of hair tickling her now hot cheeks. She feels it rumble through her spine as he says, “Honestly. You’re lucky you’re cute, mortal.”

Something in Zoey purrs, the starved beast in her own chest borne from a childhood spent desperately trying to be enough for someone, preening at such obvious attention. It’s probably not a good thing. In fact, it’s probably fucked up a bit. She should be shoving him off and putting in a call to their health team for a therapy consult.

But because she is more than a bit fucked up already, all Zoey does is scowl back up at him. “And you’re lucky I don’t feel like cleaning blood off my favorite blanket, demon.”

Baby deadpans, “Try it, if you’re ready for another round.”

Zoey glares up, ready to snap back before then the meaning of his words hit her through the fog of war.

“Wait, another?” She tenses, sore hips and sorer cunt blaring alarms. The breast he’s still lazily kneading is a traitor who probably unlocked the doors. “No, n-o, I am not doing that again with a-an—evil demon mastermind!”

He snorts, squeezing a breast appreciatively. “Flattery won’t spare you.”

“You-you, augh!” Zoey twists her neck to face him and he tracks her like the predator he is. “Fine, you helped me with the concept! But that’s over. It’s done, I seduced you fair and square.”

Baby’s huff in her ear makes it feel like a lie even as she says it, his breath hot and sending too-familiar shiver down her spine. He says, “You made a very fine first effort.”

“What.”

Baby smiles, close lipped and innocent and if it wasn’t for the other hand that slipped down to cup her cunt and squeeze she might have bought it.

“I thought you knew, pretty little hunter.”

His eyes have shifted, the pupils under his heavy lids slits that grow thinner as Zoey’s cunt suddenly throbs, a terrifying call and response. 

“Practice makes perfect.”

Zoey does end up making it to the photoshoot in time, having extinguished most of the emergency Huntrix supply of coverup to hide away the marks Baby insisted on leaving and so flustered she forgets to be nervous about being sexy. 

They fuck like three more times in the green room between takes. 

Notes:

join me for more hunter/demon maknae depravity at baboey