#i also meant to post this a while back but never did it because i couldnt find song lyrics to attach hehe

[hadesknockedupintheunderworld]

Okay I just need to say that I knew I'd like this Tailstube as soon as I saw the thumbnail (after all, I am a Sonadails enjoyer, and Tails is literally in the middle of them in the thumbnail)

But I think probably something that stood out the most to me when I watched it was just

The hints that Shadow and Tails have a relationship outside of Sonic??

The first thing that tipped me off to this was that not only did Tails convince Shadow to join in on his show, he also convinced him to stick around to its natural end?? You know, Shadow. The guy you can't force to do anything and frequently will just dip if he's bored or doesn't want to be there. But even while Sonic was annoying him and he made it clear he wanted the "interview" over with, he still never made a move to chaos control out of there because of any of this.

And the second thing that tipped me off was this:

When Shadow is both confused and annoyed at Sonic, he chooses to complain to Tails about Sonic. And so Tails steps in to try to "explain" what Sonic meant by what he said (i.e he told Shadow something much nicer in the interest of getting them to be on better terms). The fact that he looks to Tails to complain to about Tails' own best friend and possibly even to explain that which he does not understand in a social context tells me just how highly he regards Tails. And since both Shadow and Sonic are being childish here, it's amusing to see Tails regarded as something closer to a trusted figure with more power here.

From an objective analysis standpoint, of course this means they have their own friendship. And this is a prospect I enjoy (The idea that Tails and Shadow are good friends)! It actually means a lot to me that Tails could form a frienship or bond with Shadow outside of the context of Sonic (in terms of who initiates it and for what reason it's initiated).

But, my friends, from a biased standpoint, I'm shipping trash. And to me this Tailstube was a fun show for Sonadails fans. Honestly, Tails staging this episode to get Sonic and Shadow to talk and "bury the hatchet", as well as how he acts during the show, read a lot to me personally like a guy trying to get his two boyfriends (who happen to be rivals) to get on better terms, if not just tolerate each other. I quite like the idea of Tails dating both of these idiots and just trying to get them to play nice when they're all together (although frankly I think the ideal scenario for Tails in my biased reading is that Sonic and Shadow get together as well).

This is also not to mention the dynamics showcased here! Sonic and Tails as best friends, with Sonic assuming that he and Tails were gonna talk shit about Shadow behind his back, and Tails trying to get him to play nicer. Shadow and Tails as friends, with Tails trying to convince him why he and Sonic are in the perfect position to become friends and helping him out socially, and with Shadow choosing to do something he doesn't want to because of Tails, as well as looking to Tails to complain to when Sonic is annoying him or when he doesn't understand something. And then there's Sonic and Shadow. In short, their relationship in this episode reminded me a lot of the dynamic I plotted out for that Sonadow post I wrote up where the two just beat the crap out of each other. In slightly longer terms, I find interesting how Mr. Flynn maintained Sonic and Shadow's dynamic during SA2 (with Sonic bothering Shadow and trying to fight him, while Shadow is just annoyed that Sonic won't leave him alone) while also showing the audience that they are rivals. And in longer terms...Sonic was clearly seeking a fight during this episode. And the facial expression, the mocking, his tone of voice, it doesn’t really matter whether or not he actually dislikes Shadow and believes they could never be friends. He's trying to annoy Shadow and goad him into a fight because he wants to fight Shadow so badly it makes him look stupid. And we can tell by how he expresses his confusion to Tails that Shadow is just not getting this. To him Sonic is just being annoying and confusing. Sonic is targeting him specifically, and Shadow shoots back with his own words. And so it's also pointed that Shadow reciprocates/actually decides to fight Sonic when Sonic specifically challenges him. He doesn't respond to Sonic trying to goad him on, but when Sonic challenges him specifically he's much more interested in opposing him.

Anyways guys I love Shadow and Tails having a soft on the side relationship while Sonic flirts by convincing Shadow to fight him somehow😂💖

#sonic the hedgehog #tailstube #sonadails #sonshadails #sonadow #sontails #shadails #shadow the hedgehog #tails the fox #miles tails prower #i just be ramblin #man there are so many things about this episode #Another personal favorite interaction was when #Tails: Come on could you try to just say one nice thing about each other? One compliment? Please? #Sonic‚ mockingly: Anything you can do I can do better #Shadow: Yeah? Do it then. Prove it. #Sonic: Ah crap he called my bluff #Sonic: I uh...I love the way you...chaos control? #Tails: Okay. You do one now Shadow #Shadow: I uh... I also love the way you chaos control. ...It's impressive that you could do it with a fake emerald #Tails: See? You can compliment each other! Sorta #Sonic is on the aro/ace spectrum to me but to me his most compelling relationships are always little buddy effect related and knuckles #effect related #Which just means that he tends to hold relationships like his and Tails highly (and has taken more than one little buddy)‚ but is also #attracted to people who have tried to kill him. What can I say? He loves the softness and domesticity of having a smaller loyal partner as #he loves the danger and exhilaration of fighting/racing a strong opponent #Sonic and Shadow fighting (and especially Sonic trying to get Shadow to fight him on purpose) is just baseline what the two need #for 'toxic yaoi' so if someone can't even handle how hostile they were during the tailstube then... #Anyways‚ how we feelin Sonshadails fans?

[killinfate]

MORNINGS. (spoilers)

(found the gif on pinterest but the link said it was from tumblr and idk the acc that posted so if anyone knows lmk pls!)

MIKE SCHMIDT X READER

— AFTER THE INTERESTING EXPERIENCE AT FREDDY FAZBEAR’S PIZZERIA, MIKE’S LIFE WAS COMING TOGETHER.

Mike’s younger sister Abby remained in his custody, William was dead, Vanessa was receiving treatment in hospital, his mind was no longer plagued with the same repetitive nightmare and he’d finally gotten another job with no hiccups so far. He’d also got you.

You stayed over frequently and Abby adored you. You originally began as her babysitter, living conveniently next door. Mike asked you to babysit her and the two of you grew closer from then on yet there was attraction evident between each interaction. It was only until Mike’s experience at the pizzeria was when he finally spoke upon his interest in you, his near death experience making him more decisive and slightly more confident than he was before.

Luckily, this new job required no night shifts. However, he did have to wake early.

The alarm clock chimed at 6 o,clock sharp and he groaned, reaching over to the alarm clock to turn it off with his free arm, the other arm firmly wrapped around you.

He sighed before bringing his head back down to rest against the pillow and hold you closer, wrapping both his arms around you now. One of your legs rested over his waist and your arms rested loosely at his sides. Mike never pictured himself in love or to find it; never finding himself social enough to do so. You were his neighbour and he was obligated to be friendly to you in a sense but to develop a relationship with you was completely different.

He slowly opened his eyes, his hand coming to caress your hair. Your brows furrowed and your eyes remained closed, slightly annoyed he’d woken you up.

“Just because you’re in work early doesn’t mean I am.” You mumbled. A quiet laugh left Mike’s lips and his eyes widened slightly. “Damn, didn’t think you’d be that grumpy about it.” He replied, his voice slightly hoarse and sleepy.

“I wanted to say bye before I go.” Mike tells you, waiting for your eyes to open.

“Well goodbye.” You groan, turning over and leaving Mike’s embrace, your back now facing him. He sighed before wrapping his arm around your waist once more and laying closer to you. He sat up a little, enough to lean over and press a tender kiss behind your ear and neck. For someone who had lacked in relationships and physical touch he surely knew how to show affection.

“That was a shitty goodbye.” He tells you and a smile graces your lips at the disappointment evident in his voice.

“Come on.” He tugged at your shoulder lightly. You turned over and now lay on your back. Your eyes opened and met Mike’s deep brown ones. He was propped up on his arms, leaning slightly over you.

He looked to you, a soft smile on his lips before he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours. Your eyes closed once more slowly and your hands came to caress his face, your fingers gently running over his cheeks. His hand brushed past the shirt you wore, coming to rest on your waist and his thumb traced circles into your skin.

The two of you kissed for a while, your lips kissing every inch of his; it’s what he craved every morning. Reluctantly, Mike pulled away from the kiss and leaned back to look at you.

“I love you.” He told you quietly. It’d taken him a while to say and he still didn’t feel entirely comfortable saying it but he wanted you to know he meant it.

“I love you too, but you’re gonna be late.” You say with a laugh. Mike averts his gaze to the clock and sighs before leaning down and giving you one more quick chaste kiss.

“Alright, alright. Remember Abby’s—“ you finished his sentence, knowing the usual routine. “—Abby’s lunch and she needs to be at school by eight thirty, I know.”

You usually looked after Abby in the mornings and whenever you could which helped Mike a lot and he appreciated you for it. “Thank you.” He tells you, giving your waist a light squeeze before letting go of it and getting out of bed.

He got dressed and you curled up in bed once more, shutting your eyes and turning away from the window where light streamed through the curtains. Mike looked back at you and walked over, leaning down and pressing a kiss on your forehead and cheek.

He loved you so much.

“Okay bye.” He whispered, watching a smile form on your lips after he kissed you. He smiled himself at the sight of you before leaving the room, longing for the weekend where he didn’t have to set any alarm and could remain in bed with you.

#mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt #mike schmidt fnaf movie #fnaf movie #five nights at freddy's #five nights at freddy’s movie #horror #horror imagine #mike schmidt x reader

[ivysangel]

surprise post bc my blogs fixed woo hoo!! i initially sent this as an ask to @hanasnx as my contribution to his baby daddy!jason au, but i also wanted to share it here for u guys as a little treat :p

Baby Daddy!Jason, who you co-parent with, in a very civilized way. No joke, the picture of camaraderie between exes. He takes your daughter on the days he's supposed to (which isn't that often, given his occupation) and brings her back on time, always with a little gift for you as well. Flowers, chocolates, a little knick-knack reminiscent of when you were together. It's not because he's in love with you or anything; it's just the principle of the matter. "Happy wife, happy life," not that you were married or even dating, but he figures the mother of his child should get love sometimes.

Baby Daddy!Jason, who, the next time he sees you, it's to drop off something your daughter forgot with him, and as he's handing you the bag, he casually asks why you haven't been asking him to take her more often. You had been for a while when you were going on dates weekly, but for some reason, the relationships never went anywhere, so you just gave up. "Oh, you know, it just wasn't working out." you say off-handedly, "Kept getting ghosted." you sound only marginally disappointed, moreso annoyed. "What a shame, they're really missing out," he says, getting real close to you and taking up your entire field of vision.

Baby Daddy!Jason, who's got your entire calendar memorized and knows that his daughter's not home tonight and that you've got no plans other than watching movies in solitude. He knows you're too stubborn to call him over for company even though you've been giving him fuck me eyes in passing for the past few months, so he figures he just has to take matters into his own hands and corner you until you give in like he knows you want to.

Baby Daddy!Jason, who fucks you on damn near every surface in the house, telling you he's just christening the place like he would've already done if you lived together. Whispers apologies in your ears about scaring off all of your dates while he's splitting you open, bullying his cock into you while your eyes roll to the back of your head because you haven't been fucked this good in years, not since the last time you'd been with him. You're face is deep in some pillows when you realize the memories you had of his dick pale in comparison to the real thing, and you aren't sure you could go back to using your imagination to get off after tonight.

Baby Daddy!Jason, who keeps you up all night until your pussy's red and puffy from how many times it'd come in contact with his hips while he was fucking you. Fat tip kissing your cervix until you were clawing at his biceps, begging him to give you some reprieve, tears in your eyes while you babbled incoherently, too lost in the feeling of him to make any sense. He admits in the midst of sex that he tried to get over you; he really did, but he just couldn't; he just couldn't picture you with another man in any capacity. The thought of someone else touching you, fucking you, loving you, made his stomach turn, filling him with rage and an overwhelming need to claim you as his.

Baby Daddy!Jason, who's a level-headed, non-fragile ego'd man until it comes to his family, which, contrary to what some would say, did not only consist of his daughter but you too, and any guy who tried to get with you was a threat. he didn't know the intentions of other men, but he knew his own, which was to keep his little family happy as long as he was alive. If that meant putting a gun to the head of anyone who made a move on you and consoling you by stretching you out the way he knew you liked until you just said "fuck it" and let him put another baby in you, then so be it.

#jason todd lover #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd smut #jason todd imagine #red hood #red hood x you #red hood x reader #red hood x fem!reader #red hood smut #red hood imagine

[xxsabitoxx]

Ryomen Sukuna NSFW A-Z

Part of my 20k follower celebration (past due)

Warnings: if it isn’t abundantly clear, this is smut :)

A/N: in honor of hitting 20k followers a while back, I’m going to be posting 10 NSFW alphabets for JJK men — scheduled post 11 :) - I've developed an unhealthy obsession with true form Sukuna... he is all I think about now. Forgive me because this one is for sure a bit OOC since he like... loves you

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

If you managed to break the hollow icy shell that is Sukuna’s heart and make yourself someone important to him… Sukuna is pretty damn good with aftercare. He’ll clean you up, even ordering someone to get numbing salves because he tore you the fuck up and he know’s you’ll be sore and aching within a few hours if you aren’t already. He’ll use two arms to cradle you gently while his other set works on cleaning you up and making sure you’re okay. He’ll wait until you’re sleeping to whisper praises to you, telling you that you did so well for him and that he adores you. He’ll never really say these things to you when you’re awake though. 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Sukuna loves your legs and thighs, he loves your hips and your stomach too. He loves having things to hold and your body provides so much softness for him. He loves to kneel before you – that’s right the king of curses kneeling before you – to lick all the way from the top of your foot up to your inner thigh. He’ll cover your legs in bruises and bites, making sure everyone is well aware that you are his property and nobody else can have you. He adores your stomach, often resting his head against it and letting you pet his hair lovingly. Sukuna will only show this level of vulnerability to you, letting down some – not all – of his walls. 

Sukuna loves his entire body, four arms, two mouths, two dicks, and all. He considers it his masterpiece and it deserves to be worshiped. He has no shame in proclaiming this either. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

If he’s not dumping several loads into your cunt/ass then what’s the point? Sukuna treats his cum just as he treats the rest of his body… It's sacred and a privilege to have it. He toys with the idea of painting your face or chest in it but ultimately doesn’t see the point in letting something so valuable go to waste. So creampies are the only way in Sukuna’s eyes. And trust me when I say this man cums a fucking boat-load. I don’t care if it’s realistic or not, he’s making you look bloated by the time he’s done with you.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Sukuna would let you do anything you wanted to him… he just hasn’t found the strength to give you that knowledge yet. He hates the idea of someone holding power over him, which is why he’s ever so mildly terrified of you. You may not realize it, but you have Sukuna wrapped around your finger… that man would kill the entire planet for you if it meant seeing you smile. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Sukuna is very experienced, having tens if not hundreds of harlots laying around for his use. But that was before you. You changed his view on that sort of thing and he got rid of every single one of them… you are all he needs to remain satisfied and that is a feeling Sukuna never thought he'd experience in his existence. Sukuna knows what he’s doing and he knows what he’s doing well.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Sukuna’s favorite position is holding you up so your back is pressed to his chest. He has a hand hooked under each of your knees and he’s holding you up that way, spreading you apart further than your legs really allow. Sukuna is either sitting or standing and honestly he prefers when a mirror is present so he can watch your face contort in a mix of pain and pleasure. He has you impaled on his cock, easily able to trust in and out of you as you fall apart. 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Not even a hint of goofiness in this man when he fucks you. He is all about business… I mean for real it was actually kind of terrifying at first but now you’re used to it. 

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Sukuna doesn’t really give a shit about his hair down there… and yes it’s pink like the rest of his hair. It may sound fucking bizarre but if you want to trim and clean him up down there? He’ll let you do it. You bathe him often so it’s not necessarily out of your comfort zone to sit there and groom his nether region. He doesn’t really care what you do down there either. You can simply trim him to your liking or shave him bald. Whatever you’re into, he truly doesn’t care. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Sukuna is… romantic in his own way. He’s not detached from the situation at hand and he’s not focused entirely on himself. Sukuna shows his “romantic” side by letting you cum, maybe sparing you a few kisses, rubbing his thumb across the nail marks he left on your legs… he’s not one to say “I love you” or really express how much you mean to him. But it’s the small, subtle little things that hint towards his affection for you. 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He’s got four hands, you’d think he’d use one of them to get himself off but he simply doesn’t see a need for that when he can have a random whore come do it for him. When it comes to you though? You never leave him, like Uraume, you’ve earned your spot by his side. He has you to assist him with those kinds of needs when they arise (heh). Though, he’s amused you once or twice by jerking himself off for your own enjoyment. Making a show of using two hands to jerk off his two cocks but stopping just before he comes because – as i’ve said – he doesn’t like to waste any of it, not a single drop can be spared. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Slave/Master kink for one… he just likes the feeling of being superior even though he doesn't need to “roleplay” to get that feeling. BDSM… or whatever equivalent there is for the Heian period. He likes it rough, messy, even a little bloody. Sukuna has a massive breeding kink but doesn’t want kids, he just likes the idea of filling you over and over again (regardless if you have the ability to get pregnant or not). Dacryphilia for sure, your tears turn him on. Orgasm control (both denying and overstimulation) are just another aspect that plays into his love of power. Sukuna loves restraints in any form, not him, though. He will for sure try and fist you. 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Anywhere. Sukuna will fuck you where ever the fuck he wants too with no shame. He’ll fuck you on his bed, ruin the luxurious sheets and break the bedframe over and over. It’s gotten to the point where he actually got rid of it all together because he was sick of the wood splintering and nearly hurting you. Sukuna can and will fuck you on a raised platform in front of his petrified subjects. He wants everyone to know who you belong too – even if you don’t need to be fucked stupid in front of hundreds of people for them to know. It’s quite obvious. To be totally honest, Sukuna loves the mess and mayhem of fucking you in the tub. Watching the water slosh everywhere then ordering a maid to come clean up the damage, it makes him laugh. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

There is an innocence to you that really gets Sukuna going. You’ve done the most downright filthy things with him, you’ve stood beside him as he makes a bloody mess of someone… but somehow you still retain this sort of innocence to you that he loves to try and taint. It’s not to say you’re oblivious… you’re very smart in Sukuna’s eyes and he knows you have a mean streak. But when you’re with him… there is something about you that he wants to break so badly and he has such fun trying to do so… you’re resilient which would usually piss him off to no end… but with you it’s endearing and he can’t figure out why he can’t get enough (you’re in love dumb ass) 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Shit. Yeah no that’s the one thing he can not and will not deal with. He’s had his fair share of bodily fluids – to say the least without going into detail. But he draws the line at anything to do with vomit or scat. It disturbs him… which is saying a lot. He’s had women offered to him as sacrifice that have done several things in fear and he can say he truthfully cannot handle it. Also, no threesomes ever. He’s not sharing you. 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He’s a healthy combination of both (shocking). Sukuna loves watching you struggle to even take one of his cocks in your mouth nevermind both. But your mouth feels so damn good even though you struggle to get more than the tip past your lips. Sukuna loves to go down on you though, keeping your thighs spread apart so he can eat you as he pleases. Your arousal just tastes so good to him, he can’t get enough and he will not stop until he’s satisfied. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Rough and cruel for the most part. But he can be even meaner when he goes unbearably slow, splitting you open agonizingly with two cocks opposed to one just to see those pretty tears slip down your cheeks as you beg and plead for mercy (mercy he never gives). Sukuna will fuck you stupid with one cock most of the time, that’s his little bit of kindness towards you, but you’ll get fucked twice at least… ya know… gotta get the second cock off too. He’ll give you a choice, get fucked twice with one cock each time or get fucked once with two… mind you it’s never just once even if it’s two cocks at the same time or one each. You’re smart enough to take one cock multiple times unless you want to be bedridden because you can’t walk. Both options have happened to you many times though… so you really can’t tell why he offers you a choice. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Sex can take up a whole day when it comes to Sukuna. So, no, he despises quickies. He doesn’t like to be rushed, he doesn’t care if he gets caught, he’ll make people watch. What is there that would really appeal to him??? It seems more annoying than anything really. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He will experiment but only on his own accord. He won’t say it outright but Sukuna is at least a bit mindful of the experiments he does… he doesn’t want to really hurt you or scare you away. So he picks and chooses what he wants to try on you. If there is something very intriguing to him that he worries will make you uncomfortable? He’ll force two other people to play it out while he watches and decides from there… he’s oddly considerate of you in that sense. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

As you saw above… sex can be an all-day process for Sukuna. He can last as long as he wants to… and I mean that seriously. His stamina is infinite, nothing will stop him but himself. He can go multiple rounds until you’re so fucked out you’ve lost count. He can last anywhere from 15-25 minutes per round, he could last much longer but his goal is inevitably to cum so why bother… praying for you honestly. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Toys like we know today don’t exist within his era (the Heian period) and honestly?? Sukuna is a fucking jungle gym in his own right so you really don’t need toys… and even if they did exist and were at his disposal? Sukuna isn’t using them. Why the hell would he rely on a stupid little toy to get you off when he’s more than capable?? He’s not intimidated by them, he just would think they’re absolutely useless… modern day though… if you begged him for a vibrator he would probably cave and get you one. He may even find amusement in it. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Sukuna and fair do not belong in the same sentence so it should shock nobody that this man will tease you until you are nearly dry heaving with how hard you’re crying. He will tease you for hours, to the point it feels like genuine torture, before he feels like getting you off. Then, the unfair attitude continues because he will not stop even when you start begging him to. He likes how quickly he can make you regret your words, seeing those pretty fat globs of tears leaking down your cheeks only makes the experience better for him. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Sukuna will curse and groan but that’s about it. He won’t try and hide his noises, either, but he will try and make sure he’s not too loud. It’s rare to get a moan, whine, or whimper out of him. Especially since he has such good control over himself. But he will not hesitate to groan about how good his cock is feeling because of you… he has to give you a little something to get you to stick around, ya know? Not that you have a choice… and not that you’d really want to leave him anyways… giving up your luxurious lifestyle and being on the king of curses’ good side isn’t something just anyone can obtain, you know. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Sukuna hates your family, ever since you were dropped off to him to be a sacrifice. He doesn’t care about his donors and their sacrifices since all of them are mediocre pieces of shit at best. Though he knows a scumbag like him is not one to talk. But you? You arrived to him nearly beaten to death, half naked, with little to no emotion left in you. What the hell was he supposed to do with that? Where was the fun in playing with something that was already half dead. Though, as he was about to kill you, something in your expression moved his icy heart. That truly petrified him but he’d never let anyone know it. He kept you instead of killing you, ordering for the immediate execution of your rotten family instead. He likes to joke that he had the perfect specimen nursed back to health, in his eyes you really were perfect. 

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Sukuna is a tall man… while we don’t know his exact height in true form… he’s been guesstimated to be anywhere from 7.5 feet to 9.8 feet. A tall man is going to have a monstrous cock… or cocks in his case. When he’s soft he’s about 8.5 inches in length, and when he’s hard he’s just over 11 inches. He’s monstrous, girthy and sticks straight out… both of them do. He will hurt… he will make you feel like you’re getting ripped in half and he will often try and fist you to prepare you for him. He cannot fit all the way inside of you, as much as he’d love to, he's not trying to kill you by rupturing your organs. He’s a tan color, one dick is circumcised, the other is not… he was feeling quirky,  and has a deep rosy pink tip… or tips… you know what I mean. 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Sukuna has to fuck you at least twice a day, if he doesn’t, he’s extremely irritable. He has at least 5 hours of his day set aside just for you. But really he makes his own schedule so he can do whatever the fuck he wants when he wants to. His sex drive is pretty damn high and he does absolutely nothing to deal with it or hold off. He will get off the moment he wants too. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Sukuna prefers falling asleep after you do, which can be pretty instant considering how long he may have been fucking you. So the answer is anywhere between 30 seconds and 10 minutes. 

#jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk headcanons #jjk smut #jjk scenarios #jjk imagines #sukuna imagine #sukuna smut #sukuna headcanons #ryomen sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #jjk sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna

[anundyingfidelity]

FOR ALL TIME, ALWAYS – Loki x female reader

Summary: Loki escapes the TVA for a moment. Desperate and brokenhearted, he looks for you, his wife, in the Sacred Timeline. Even if you saw him die ten years ago.

Word count: 3.9k.

Warnings: LOTS of angst, some fluff, spoilers of Loki series in general. Language. Maybe I'm not getting how the branches work oops. This is right after the end of 2x02 and before 2x03. My English is also a warning, just in case.

Notes: while looking on the tags I checked a post of someone asking for a TVA Loki fic where he finds the reader but her Loki died in IW (not canon in my head btw). So I wrote it because is such a great idea, but I can't find the original post... ;-; anyway hope you like this!

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

GEN MASTERLIST!

It's harder to stay...

Wasn't this situation hard enough? Sylvie was right. She had a point. But Loki wanted to do the right thing. Maybe he would find a chance... Again, right? Probably he would make the proper decisions this time.

The TVA was already fucked up, and with it, the thousands of timelines and lives in danger within them. Sometimes, it looked like it didn't matter. In the end, they were trying to fix something that was already broken.

Loki let out a deep breath he didn't realise was holding and walked to talk directly to his partner, Mobius.

"I need a favor," Loki mumbled, so the grey-haired man would be the only person to hear his voice.

Mobius met his eyes. He knew that gaze, it meant he was up to something. "What kind of favor?"

The god motioned Mobius to step away from the newly acknowledged variants and far away from what B-15 was witnessing. The branches were pruned from the whole existence; thousands and millions of lifes lost to the void in just the blink of an eye. Loki knew he had to do something before it got worst. Something for himself.

"I need to go the Sacred Timeline," Loki announced.

"Are you nuts?" Mobius scolded, in the same low voice tone Loki had used.

"Is just- listen, it's something I have to do. I really need to go back there. Need to see someone, make sure everything is okay," Loki insisted.

During all the times Loki showed he was desperate, Mobius was sure this was the peak of all of them. He wasn't explaning more than necessary, he looked serious, and his voice was crisp. Loki knew what he wanted at that moment. Mobius sighed, his hands finding the pockets of his pants, unsure of Loki's request.

"So it's personal..."

"A little, yeah," Loki nodded.

"Promise it'll be quick," Mobius said, taking off the TemPad from his pocket and his hand stopped in the air before the object could lay in the god's grip. "Don't make me regret this."

"I won't."

2029, Sacred Timeline

When Loki arrived to his destination, the nerves got the best from him. New York looked no different from the last time he was there. Shifting his usual clothes he wore at the TVA, he chose a plain suit to go undercover, or at least decided he would try to, considering he was a criminal once in Midgard.

But as he walked through the halls of the familiar building he met decades ago, he didn't really care. He longed for something else. Better say, someone. And it was you.

You, who met him in the past right after Thor's banishment, and even helped him to find the Teseract, only to give up to SHIELD and those idiots that people called 'The Avengers'. Of course his heart hurted for a long time, but Loki tried to deny the feelings blooming inside and instead, he just decided to walk away from you, even if that meant hurting you. It was the best.

At least that was what he believed until he checked further his file; the file that Mobius had prepared for him. His life. Even after what he did to your people and planet, you still held no grudges. And Thor was good enough to seek for yours and the sorcerer's, Stephen Strange, help once Hela appeared in their lives.

Loki would never forget the loving look in your beautiful eyes when you saw him again, after years of parting ways. He really paid attention to you while watching his file, and he found there was only love, protection, and care in you. All for him. Someone who didn't deserve it, he thought.

He felt grateful at least he had the pleasure to enjoy happiness for a moment. Even if that meant Asgard was destroyed. Loki already lost his mother, his father, and he almost lost his brother. He couldn't stand losing you either. The simple idea of living without you - even if he didn't know you further than your Loki did - was unbearable pain.

So while in the ship on the way to Midgard with the asgardians and survivors of the Ragnarok, you held a cozy, small wedding when he asked you to marry him. This was one of the parts Loki would replay again and again from his file, with disbelief that he was actually happy and joyful, enjoying a good time with you, his brother, and all the asgardians who survived. Loki felt full of hope after your wedding, thinking fate had better things to come with you as an oficial part of his life.

Unfortunately, it didn't last long, thanks to the Mad Titan. As his steps got near your door, the memory of his brother and your figure mourning on his lifeless body appeared on his mind. It was an image he couldn't erase that easily. Probably, he would never forget that was his original destiny all the way. That was meant to be. And for now, he could not change it.

Loki stopped outside your apartment. He took a deep breath and raised his shaking hand to reach the doorbell. He waited for a moment, not knowing if seconds or minutes went by, it felt eternal. Until the door opened and he saw you.

The bright smile you had on your lips faded away. Your eyes flooded with tears, your forehead was furrowed, and still, Loki thought you were the most beautiful creature in all the Nine Realms.

"Hi..." Loki barely whispered, his eyes were glossy and a single tear also ran down his pale cheek.

You were clearly in shock. You wanted to get closer and finally touch him, to feel him physically. But even if you wanted to move to take his hand to confirm it wasn't a trick of your ruined mind, your body was stiff and your feet were glued to the ground.

"Is this an illusion?" you trembled.

All Loki could do was shaking his head, before muttering. "No..."

"Loki, I saw you die..."

Tears ran down your face, denying to yourself that this was real. That this was really happening to you. And your mind started to wonder all the possible scenarios and reasons on why him, the god of mischief, the only person you loved dearly with all your mind, body and soul, was standing right in front of your door even if he was gone for you... Long gone now. And that couldn't be undone.

"I know you did, my love."

You tried to smile, even a little bit, as he pronounced those words so dearly. Loki came closer to your figure, carefully placing a trembling hand on your cheek, feeling the tears flowing on your skin. You leaned into his touch, with a simpering smile. Such was the effect you had on him, that a silly smile he also had on his lips.

And you realized Loki was so real... His touch, his heat, his smile, his scent, the way he would hold you... Everything about him was exactly as you remembered. You felt his lips brushing softly against yours, gentle and hesitant, and instantly, you melted into a slow kiss, sure knowing that Loki would taste the salt of your tears running down your face. Leaning in closer as the space between would allow you, you savoured each second your breaths allowed, longing to remain right there for eternity. For all time. Always.

"But now I am here... and I can explain," he whispered once you separated your lips from his in the sweetest way.

You let out a soft chuckle. "Mind to enlighten me, oh, god of mischief?"

Finally you guided him inside your apartment. That old apartment Loki saw his other self visiting a couple of times before you were something. It still had your vibe around it and he loved it. He felt like he was at home after a very long time. Once you closed the door, his arms wrapped around your figure, and you let yourself cry, pressing against his chest and with a tight grip of your hands on his coat.

"You don't have any idea of how much I have missed you all these years," you sobbed and his heart shrank on his chest. "I kept wishing every night and every day to be me instead of you."

"My love," he said softly, separating a little and cupping your cheeks with his warm hands. His eyes were red now because of the tears he was holding back again. "Don't say that... It was supposed to happen."

"What?" you mumbled.

Your hands found his wrists and you pulled his palms away from your cheeks. However you kept the contact with him, you just needed to touch him, to feel he was in the flesh. He was alive right now, wasn't he?

"Look, I am not your Loki. I know what you did, what the Avengers did after Thanos-" his voice broke just a bit but he continued. "I know everything. I just couldn't resist knowing there was someone for me, out there in the Nine Realms, capable to love me for who I am," Loki explained as he watched your face. Was it disappointment? Confusion? He didn't know, but he had to tell you the truth.

Your voice came out as a barely audible whisper. "So... you are saying... you're another Loki? Another him?"

He nodded softly. "I am." Loki thought for a moment on how to explain everything, but he just went for what his heart felt it was right. "It's a little complicated. I did something that wasn't supposed to be, and perhaps will sound like I'm insane, but thanks to that I am kind of trapped in time. With an organization that is not what everyone thought it was, hence a multiverse was created. Sponsored by another me, by the way. You are in what is called the Sacred Timeline, where things flow as how they were supposed to since forever. And I just needed to see you after I found out you were the love of my life."

You took a moment to understand everything he said, wishing that his fate would have been different from what originally happened. Loki gave his best, even in the last worst moments, he was changing for good. For you. For Thor... It wasn't fair.

"Your death was supposed to be then?"

"Yes, it was."

"Oh, Loki," you cried. "You know what, I don't care what's happened. I'm just- I feel happy seeing you here... Please tell me everything you've been through. I want to hear your voice again, to know you're with me right now, to feel you near... I'm not crazy, am I?" you chuckled between tears and Loki curved his lips in a smile, wiping your tears from your face with his thumbs.

Loki granted your wish and explained everything, answering every question you had about the lies of the TVA; the files he found out were his whole life; about Sylvie, Mobius and his variants. He spilled all you wanted to hear, asking like a child, until you understood what was happening. You noticed he truly had changed, just like your Loki did when he reunited with Thor before the Ragnarok took over Asgard. It was a bittersweet feeling however, thinking how much they they seemed to each other. They were the same person after all, but this Loki didn't had the chance to continue his path as it was supposed to.

Taking his hand into yours, you leaned towards him and laid down your head on his shoulder while you both sat comfortable in the couch, just enjoying each others company. Your eyes were dry at this point after crying for what it felt were hours, but his voice helped to soothe you enough.

"I'm glad knowing you have someone like Mobius by your side," you said after a quiet moment. "He sounds like a very good friend," you looked at him, waiting for an answer. "Because that's what he is to you, right?"

"He is a great friend, I'm not alone if that is what is troubling you," Loki affirmed.

You let out a sigh. "That is totally a relief to me."

Loki chuckled softly, leaning to leave a kiss on your hair. "Now you've heard everything about me, would I hear something from you?"

"I'm just a mortal, Loki," you smiled. "Doing the normal shit, not the superhero stuff anymore. I am hating my pretty much normal office job every day; I feed the birds when I go outside at the park, also thinking about adopting a cat or a dog... Maybe a dog."

"Or you could do both."

"Yeah, I might. But my place isn't that big for pets. Sometimes I feel like I'm too alone, very much alone... I would love to have a big farm, or a cabin in the mountains with lots of plants, pets and animals to take care of." The idea did sound good for Loki. Hopefuly you could find peace that way. "Do you remember Pepper?" you said, straighting up on the couch to look at him. He nodded. "Well, after Tony died I still visit her and their daughter, Morgan. She is ten years old, could you believe it?" Loki noticed the sorrow and pain you still carried after all those years of losing your friends, your people... "And I've been missing you and mourning you for ten years as well."

"It's not your fault."

"I know, Loki."

"Do whatever is the best for you, my dear... I would have loved to be here with you now, as the Loki from the Sacred Timeline."

You smiled, but it was a sad smile. "Well, either way, you're here now. It's all that matters to me."

Once again, you shared a loving kiss and took his hand to walk to the kitchen, asking him to take a seat in your breakfast bar, glad he decided to search for you in one of your free days. Otherwise, you would have surely missed his visit. But he was looking for you. Probably Loki would have found you anywhere at this point.

You talked some more while you had some tea and ate some cookies that you saved for special days on the shelfs. The afternoon was pleasant, and this was your turn to speak. Loki, coat long gone, was catching up with you and he asked every single thing about your life now. He smiled more than ever, laughed more than you have ever seen, and it was certainly something you could get used to from now on. Knowing you never continued your life with another person made his heart ache though. However, Loki was no one to blame. He would have done the same thing. No other was like you, no one would have replaced you.

"It's my decision," you finally said, reading his face like an open book. "I have loved you, I love you now and I will love you forever."

He took your hand, lacing your fingers with his. "I know..."

"The day we married you gave me a ring. I always have it with me, today I'm not working, but I use this necklace with your ring," you searched for the necklace hiding inside your shirt and taking it off, you showed him the precious jewel hanging on a fine golden chain. The ring he recognized once was from his mother. "I want you to have it."

"No,I can't-"

"But this is what I want. I know I would have to forget, because you will make me forget about this. About you, coming here, risking everything just to see me. So please, take it."

Loki knew you had made a decision, but then if he left, taking your memories away about this day, what was left for you? He had nothing, and it was okay. He would still know he came to the Sacred Timeline; that he kissed you, that you shared a moment together, that you still loved him. But you will have none of that. And you, as human as you were, would die without the memories and without the ring. You would have nothing and he was sure couldn't bear it.

"Perhaps I can have something else to remember you, I want you to keep this ring as a promise," he closed your hand around the necklace. "My promise that I still love you and I will do it. Forever."

And you sighed, taking the necklace back with a smile. Always so stubborn. "Give me a moment."

Loki saw you leave the kitchen for some minutes. While he was alone, he noticed the sunset through the windows, as it was almost ending to welcome the dark sky around the city. He knew he had to go soon. As much as he didn't want to and the simple thought of runing away was starting to hurt him deep inside.

When you arrived, you stood by his seat on the breakfast bar, putting a small photograph, perfect for a passport, on the surface. It was all in black and white, and you looked what you thought it was nice. Loki took it between his hands, lovingly and with a proud smile on his face.

"I used that when I was taking my Master's degree. Looks pretty decent," you joked.

Loki laughed, tears right at the corner of his eyes. "It's more than that. It's perfect."

His smile faded, knowing this meant he had to leave you again. Loki wasn't supposed to have a happy ending, was he? How he wished to stay there by your side.

You kissed his cheek as a sort of goodbye and comfort at the same time, noticing the sudden change on his face and whispered softly. "So you don't search for me on those files."

"Thank you, love."

Loki got on his feet to put his coat on, like some sort of mental preparation before leaving your apartment and the Sacred Timeline. He saved your photograph on his pocket securely along with Mobius' TemPad, pretending to be strong and swallowing all the pain he was feeling right at that moment. You took his hand, lacing your fingers together one last time and walked until you stood there, in the middle of your living room. He looked at you with loving eyes, trying to save your face and your figure before returning to where he was supposed to be now. And it seemed like time had stopped, as everything Loki could see and feel was you and only you.

"I guess is time now," you began, interrupting his mind.

"I guess it is," Loki nodded, expecting an answer from you. Anything. But it never came. You were also trying to save the moment as much as you could.

So he cupped your cheeks, feeling for the last time your warm, soft skin against his palms. He didn't want to talk, because if he would have said something, it meant you were really saying goodbye forever. What Loki didn't know is that you felt the same thing.

Was there something good to say to your lover, whose destiny was just to bring the best from other people with his cruelty and chaos? To the man who had learn to make things better and, in the end, died trying to protect his people and his wife? Was there anything out there that would bring the god of mischief the happiness and love you always knew he deserved? With these branches and multiverse thing, you hoped deep in your heart there was a universe where he found what he longed for so long. This was just one of many of them. Probably he was happy and living in peace in some others.

"I love you, Loki," you mumbled. He caressed your skin with his thumbs and wiped the small tears that were running on your cheeks.

"I love you too."

Loki leaned to kiss you one last time. You welcomed the kiss with shut eyes, savouring his lips and the taste of your tears, mixing now with his own.

The pain started to bloom; every heartbeat felt like a sledgehammer pounding against his chest. He was not ready to let you go, so this was all he could do. The seidr flowed from his fingers, the green lights covering your body with the help of the spell he casted for you was made to protect you from anything that could get out of hand in the Sacred Timeline, particularly from his own hands, the hands of the TVA, or any other danger that could chase you. Because if something would happen to you due to his stubborn decision, Loki knew he wouldn't forgive himself. What he was sure about though, was that he would still look for you until the end of time.

So when the kiss ended, you fell asleep in seconds. He had to take your sleeping figure with his arms to your bedroom, where he carefully laid you down on the bed. Making sure you were comfortable in your sleep, fixing the pillows and the blankets, Loki remained there, just to take in the serenity emanating from you. It was something you had, the ease and calm your aura projected to everyone in the room. This was the last thing Loki wanted to save from you.

He kissed your forehead and dried the tears on your face before standing up. Once you were to wake up in some hours, you would not be able to know everything was real. Loki made sure you thought it was a dream. So that is what you would have in your head. Something you wished for so long that will only be nothing but thoughts, scenes and emotions that felt absolutely true. As real as life could be.

Loki took the TemPad and opened the timedoor to go back to the TVA, where he knew Mobius would be waiting already since he left for hours. Without looking back to your room, he stepped in and forced to compose himself just in case he would bump into someone else. He sighed, observing through the halls of the headquaters as he made his way back to the room that was assigned to him.

At his door, a worried Mobius was already waiting for him, walking in circles.

"God, Loki I thought you were gone for a second," the analyst breathed out. Loki just handed the TemPad and Mobius took it back. He noticed his weary demeanor and teary eyes. "Thank you. Sorry I doubted you for a second."

"It's fine," Loki shrugged it off, looking for something on his pocket. The photograph slipped from his fingers and fell down to the floor. Mobius was quick enough to pick it up for him, but as he gave it back to his owner he observed it thoroughly.

"So this was the personal thing you did," Mobius said, looking the photograph resting on Loki's hand. He remembered that face from his files.

"Yeah... I guess all set now," Loki sighed.

"Good, I hope you're ready for another trip to the Sacred Timeline." Mobius turned to walk away, deciding it was better to give him some time, but he turned back to Loki before doing so. "And if you're feeling like talking about this any day, only between us, just let me know."

And with that, he walked away. Loki smiled, standing alone outside his door.

You were right. Mobius was a good friend.

#loki x reader #loki x female reader #tva loki x reader #tva loki x female reader #tva!loki x reader #loki imagines #loki angst #loki laufesyon x reader #loki series fanfiction #loki season 2 #mcu loki x reader #mcu loki #loki series

[sailoryooons]

Angel | myg (m)

☾ Pairing: Mafia!Yoongi x Sex worker! F. reader

☾ Summary: Yoongi never meant to keep coming back. You never meant to become Yoongi’s favorite. Being Min Yoongi’s favorite has dire consequences. 

☾ Word Count: 15,551

☾ Genre: Semi-established relationship, mafia, smut, surprising amount of fluff

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately. 

☾ Warnings: Sex work and mentions of sex work, Yoongi and the reader are very confident in their relationship but also don’t want to ask for more, uses of the word whore negatively in some parts, vague references to dismemberment in an offhand conversation, intense action sequences, depictions of violence, reader is smacked around and kidnapped, depictions of injuries and pain, two sequences of detailed anxiety attacks, graphic depictions of blood, violent scene in which reader fights for her life and gores someone, depictions of murder/panicking while committing murder? Idk how to describe that one, mentions of nightmares/light reference to PTSD post-murder, explicit language, explicit sexual content including oral (m. and f. receiving) light throat fucking, nipple play, ass play (f. receiving), unprotected vaginal sex, Yoongi… almost doing a strip tease but it’s not as goofy as that it’s more sensual?? Yoongi is a little bit possessive at the end. 

☾ Published: September 3, 2023

☾ A/N: You voted for it, you got it! Introducing the fic that came out on top for the Hali’s Happy Agust Bracket Challenge! Thank you to everyone who voted during the entire month of August, I had such an amazing time seeing everyone yelling and voting and sharing and having fun with it. It means the world to me that you guys have fun and enjoy doing these kinds of things! Here is mafia Yoongi in all of his glory - I did try to keep it tame with the murder/violence/criminal side of it because there are things in this genre I’d like to table in later (most likely on Hali’s After Dark) but I hope that you enjoy this! Somehow it really turned into two people who are just !!! eternally confident in one another, despite their strange trades. Shout out to the hurricane and covid for FAILING TO STOP ME FROM WRITING THIS I’M A GOD (not really I am very tired but I did it osifjdoigj). This is mostly edited.

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Masterlist | Ask | Angel Playlist

Yoongi would rather be anywhere else but the low lit, smoky club. The production team on the dancefloor below uses way too much cryogenic smoke for Yoongi’s taste, fogging the dancing bodies with thick clouds, the lasers reflecting off the smoke in dizzying patterns. From the VIP section, he isn’t choked by the haze, but he is choking on the cloying perfume of the woman in his lap.

She’s pretty enough, one of Kwan’s finest. No doubt trained from a very young age to please her employer’s most prestigious guests. Yoongi doesn’t touch her though, save for letting her sit on his lap, her hand cradling the back of his neck. She leans into his chest, her breath close to his ear as he watches Kwan consider Yoongi’s deal.

Yoongi doesn’t have to make the deal at all. Offering to become a minority owner of the club is a mercy, really. Yoongi could go after the investors who fronted the money when Kwan opened his business in the middle of the entertainment district, and he could wipe out the petty criminals pushing drugs in shadowy alcoves near the bathroom, damaging the cut that Kwan takes from them at the end of each night. 

Yoongi could even go as far as to sow chaos every night, sending in his followers to pick fights with the elite clientele, make it a nightmare for the celebrity clients and cities government officials who use the back rooms for more nefarious matters, exposing the underbelly of La Vie if he felt like it. 

Investments, Hoseok always insists. Investments, not enemies. They already hate that you’re taking a chunk of what they built - especially the seaside property.  Let’s try to play nice and show face. 

Forcing hands is exactly how Yoongi got to this position, sitting in a club and offering Kwan a rather generous deal: Kwan retains eighty percent of ownership, Yoongi becomes a twenty percent owner, the only person allowed to supply the club’s drugs, is paid for security services, and has access to the information funneled through those that work the private client rooms. He could just take it like he always has, and he still has half a mind to do. 

Men like Kwan who think they’re savvy in business and the nuances of the criminal enterprises that run the city make Yoongi’s lip curl. 

“These terms are bullshit, and I don’t have control of the back rooms.” Kwan looks up from the contract, glasses sliding down his nose. He’s a little bit older than Yoongi, and good looking. He has a traditionally handsome face that idols and actors like to get moderated to look like. He looks like new money though, with designer pieces that don’t quite match and a Patek watch that is flashy, but not coveted. “While it is under my jurisdiction, it is a handshake deal with Anya that she runs them the way she wants. They are her clients, not mine.” 

“Then Anya will have a handshake deal with me.” Kwan’s face darkens. Yoongi is tired of this. Is tired of the feeling of the girl’s hand stroking the hair at the base of his neck, is tired of the way she presses up against him, and is tired of Kwan’s dawdling.

“Take the weekend to think about it,” Yoongi insists and stands. The girl falls off him, letting out a surprised sound as she hits the booth. Yoongi adjusts his suit and frowns when he sees there is body glitter on it. He casts a harsh look at the girl who stares up at him with big eyes before turning back to Kwan. “There are no terms for negotiating. Thank you for the drinks and the entertainment. You’ll hear from me.”

Kwan’s face is red like the neon of Yoongi’s favorite motel when he walks out of the booth. Synth and base rattle the metal catwalk that makes up the VIP section, overlooking the dancefloor. Seokjin slides into step with Yoongi as he goes, an imposing shadow as they circumnavigate the walkway. 

It’s loud and raucous when they get to the dance floor. Members of the security team watch Yoongi as he goes, their eyes alert. He pays them little attention, just like the gazes of the people dancing in the ground when they catch sight of him.

Sometimes, Yoongi feels a little bit like a myth in moments like this. Out in public, Yoongi is an astutely dressed man who speaks quietly and says very few words. He wears nice but not gaudy jewelry, and he always styles his long hair slicked back, showing off the faded, red scar over his eye. What Yoongi lacks in height, he makes up for in omnipresent stares and quick reactions.

Everyone in the city knows exactly who Min Yoongi is, and they know that he doesn’t make threats. He simply acts. 

Outside, rain falls from the inky sky. Hoseok leans against the brick wall under the awning, clove-tinged smoke drifting from the cigarette jammed between his lips. When he sees Yoongi, Hoseok pushes off the wall and adjusts his suit jacket. Where Seokjin looks tall, dark and imposing, Hoseok is wiry and sharp, dressed in all white, looking pristine as he raises his eyebrows at Yoongi in question. Yoongi nods towards the idling SUV as an answer. 

They don’t bother with an umbrella. Yoongi ducks his head down as he quickly walks across the pavement and into the car. The interior is moderately cool in the SUV. He takes a seat in the middle, Seokjin sitting alone in the row behind him and Hoseok to his right. 

Outside of the rainy window, the world turns into a smear of wet neon. Checking his watch, Yoongi notes that it’s just past midnight. If he hurries, he can stop by the Red before he goes home for the evening. If he goes home for the evening, at that point. The thought of sinking into sheets that smell like almond and cinnamon ease him. 

“So?” Hoseok flicks through his phone, face lit up blue by the screen. He looks hauntingly beautiful, all edges and sharp lines. “Deal or no deal?”

“Giving him the weekend to think about it.” Hoseok sighs. “He thinks it’s a bad deal for him because it it is, and he’s stuck on the operation Anya runs in the back rooms. He doesn’t want to lose that connection to her. She feeds him information for his extortion of city officials.”

“How else would he have cleared that permit near the docks to build,” Seokjin mutters. Yoongi casts a glance into the back seat where Seokjin sullenly stares out of the window. “Fucker is sticking his nose in a district he has no rights to. At least we had the means to get that operation cancelled.” 

“Yeah, and it’s part of why he doesn’t want to deal with us,” Hoseok says. “Even so, offering the deal is the right move. If he doesn’t take it, crush him like a fucking bug. He’s an intelligent businessman, it’s no surprise that he’s going to try and find a way around you. He might sniff around or try and fuck up some assets.”

“Hobi, you better fucking hope he doesn’t go to that fucker Seo.”

“He doesn’t have the balls. Seo Changbin is unhinged and volatile. He’s more likely to send Kwan to his family in chainsawed pieces.” 

Yoongi grunts, amused. “Bang has kept him under control as of late. Seokjin, have Jungkook look into getting some people in there. I’m not interested in them linking up as permanent partners.” 

A headache presses against Yoongi’s temples. He doesn’t care to debate politics and machinations with Hoseok and Seokjin. He closes his eyes and rests his head against the headrest, letting their discussion fall to a dull sound. 

Yoongi feels like he’s bleeding at the edges, the color of him spilling out of neat lines and all over the pages. His empire is growing faster than he can keep up with, he’s playing politics more than he’s playing the savvy gangster, and the more capital he gains, the more of himself he loses.

When Yoongi had started to climb the ladder of crime and chaos, he didn’t know where it would lead him. An early grave, perhaps. But Yoongi has always been smart and knows how to pick his battles, knows how to innovate. He is not the most inspiring man to lead people in the underbelly of the city, but he does know what he’s talking about and he’s good at guessing what people want most.

People, he’s discovered, all want the same thing, whether they��re at the bottom rung or the top. 

The boy he once was wouldn’t recognize him. The new Yoongi wears designer suits, the carefully curated art collections in the opulent halls of his home, the shaking hands with political figures to help install certain assurances within the city. There are more officials that line Yoongi’s pocket than there are gangs in the city, but it’s a weapon he wields well. 

Old Yoongi might not be so impressed. 

Yoongi feels the phantom ache of the scar on his eye. It doesn’t matter what old Yoongi wants, though. This new version of him is doing whatever he needs to live another day and to install another brick in his kingdom. 

The driver drops Yoongi off at home. Tall gates with security cameras and guard house at the entrance keeps almost everyone away from the Min estate. There’s been a few idiots here or there who have climbed the walls and met the three lovely dobermans that roam the property freely. 

Erebus catches Yoongi’s eyes as he walks to the large garage. The eldest of Yoongi’s canines sits and watches Yoongi approach with keen, dark eyes. He grins at the dog, whistling lowly. Erebus stands and joins Yoongi on his way to the side door, jamming in a code to the garage.

Inside, the automatic lights flip on. Yoongi squints from the harsh lighting, closing the door behind him. Rows of vehicles gleam under the fluorescents. Sports cars, old collectibles, sturdy SUVs. Yoongi has an armada at his disposal, though he so rarely drives himself anywhere these days. Not after Seo put a hit on him a few months ago, the insane fuck. 

Yoongi pulls the tie loose from his neck and begins to change. He presses his finger on a thumb-print lock to a wardrobe and pops it open. Inside are casual clothes: jeans, a t-shirt, a riding jacket, boots and a gleaming black helmet. Nondescript clothes that can belong to anyone. 

Every movement feels heavy. He should go upstairs and swallow down something to help him knockout, but he doesn’t. Instead, he finishes going through the motions and tosses the worn clothes in the wardrobe and walks over to the parked H2R in, all sleek, black metal. 

Erebus sniffs Yoongi’s knee once, a sort of send off. Yoongi bends down and kisses the doberman on the head before shooing him, sending the dog through the garage and up the stairs that lead to the main house. 

Instead of starting the bike in the garage and peeling out the front of the home, Yoongi pops the kickstand up and walks it out of the side door, careful not to bang the tailpipe on the door or scrape the shiny black paint. Once outside, he walks it through the entire yard, arms aching a little as he keeps the bike balanced. 

Gravel crunches beneath his boots and the tires of the motorcycle. Crickets chirp in the yard until he makes it to the back gate in his home that opens up to a government only street. Being back-to-back with the minister has its perks, like an extra security measure that he doesn’t have to monitor constantly. 

Swinging his leg over the bike, Yoongi slides the helmet on, turns the key, and presses the on switch. It roars to life, vibrating underneath him. He revs it a few times before he pulls back on the throttle and shoots down the street like a bullet from a gun.

Iron gates, walls and security houses blur past him. He lives among the gods of the city, high up over the glittering lights and those who pay pilgrimage to the political, criminal and tech giants who loom over them. Yoongi was one of them not that long ago, rising faster than he could have thought possible.

Still, he descends often. Nightly, even. Like even the most powerful gods, Yoongi’s weakness is a vice he can’t - doesn’t want to - rid himself from. While he doesn’t think of himself as impervious, Yoongi doesn’t have many weaknesses. 

His biggest one, though, spends most days at the Red with a private suite in the luxury pleasure house disguised as a motel. 

Yoongi parks his bike in a secured garage that he has a paid spot in. The payment for it is discrete and in all cash, one of Yoongi’s several attempts at covering his tracks when he visits.

The garage is still a few blocks away from the Red. He tucks his hands into his pocket, enjoying the balmy evening, rain still clinging to the air though not falling now. This late at night, there aren’t many people out. Cars drive by, tires hissing on the wet road. Neon lights burn above fluorescent-lit windows of small food shops. 

At the end of a dead end street, a red motel sign buzzes against the night sky. The non-descript brick building doesn’t look like much, but Yoongi knows better than most. Instead of approaching the front door, he leans against the wall a few shops down, tucked underneath the shadow of an awning. 

Pulling his phone out, he dials and brings it up to his ear. As the phone rings, he looks up at the four-story building. There are windows with dark curtains pulled shut and never opened. Yoongi knows that the glass looks ordinary, but is bullet proof grade to protect the most private of clients. 

It doesn’t look like much. The brick is old, it’s bracketed by a laundromat and a hardware store, and across the street is a noodle shop and boarded up general store. 

“It’s late,” you answer, voice scratchy. Yoongi nearly shivers at the sound of your voice, eyes fluttering shut as he breathes in the rain-tinged night. “What’s a girl to do when a boy calls her this late, hmm?”

“Let said boy upstairs and out of the rain.”

“Hmm.” You don’t say yes, but Yoongi can hear the rustle of sheets and the soft creak of the bed when you get up. He waits in silence, though he imagines you’re walking across the bedroom to head to the main part of the state room. “It’s not even raining anymore, I bet.”

“It is. I’m soaked to the bone. Freezing. I might catch a cold.”

“Whatever shall we do?”

He grins, ducking his head. He can feel the warmth climb up his neck to his face, shaking his head. Only you can get him like this, heart skipping like he’s in grade school making out with someone behind the bleachers for the first time. 

“Come on,” you tease on the other line. “Your door will be open.”

“Thanks, Angel.”

“Mhmm.”

His door isn’t really his. But it is a private access door in the back of the alley that requires a keycard and has an armed guard sitting in a security room next to the entry way on the inside. Yoongi hangs up the phone and heads to the special door, avoiding the puddles dripping from fire escapes. 

Just as Yoongi reaches the heavy door, he hears the beep of the auto-lock and it swings open with you leaning on the frame. He wants to eat you whole. You’re not in work clothes, meaning you either wrapped up a while ago or didn’t work tonight. He doesn’t want to know so he doesn’t ask, instead walking up to you as you step to the side and let him in. 

Glowing light flickers underneath the security door to the left. You close the door behind you and pass him, letting your fingers grab his hand and link fingers. There are security cameras here, but it’ll look normal, with you pulling him through the halls and to the elevator. Touching is very much permitted here. Encouraged. Required. 

In the elevator, you stand by Yoongi. He leans into you, silent. You squeeze his hand, very small in his, but warm enough to soothe him. You smell faintly almond and cinnamon, making him go wild as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. You giggle, leaning into him fully, arm pressed to arm. 

Perhaps it’s stupid to be so open like this. When Yoongi first started coming here, he was still and awkward, never coming too close, never letting himself be too familiar. Now, the need for you is too strong. He doesn’t care if there’s a camera on him watching him melt into you. He doesn’t care if maybe it shows that this is a little more than money, a little more than just a quick fix.

Yoongi has been coming to you for almost three years. He doesn’t remember when it stopped being about sex, but it hasn’t been that way for a while. At first, he thought it was so silly. Mafia man in love with a woman he pays to have sex with him. Except it wasn’t so silly. You’d long stopped considering him a client and insisting he doesn’t pay you. 

He doesn’t dare. He doesn’t know what money you make from clients. He knows that it has to be good to be at the Red, which specializes in top clientele. He knows it has to be great, even, because you always meet on your terms. In this space. 

He also doesn’t dare to ask you to stop. He doesn’t know how many clients you take, or who. He doesn’t know when, he doesn’t know how often. He knows nothing about your work except that he doesn’t ask you to stop and you don’t ask him if he wants you too. 

It’s an unspoken rule between you. Yoongi is too afraid to ask you to come live with him, and perhaps you’re too afraid to ask him to take you. Whatever the reasons, neither one of you is brave enough to cross the line first. So instead, you dance along it, making whatever this is work. 

Inside the stateroom is clean and smells like expensive candles. The room is luxurious and is exclusively yours. A cut of your earnings go to holding the room, just like the rest of the workers in the other rooms. 

With the door firmly locked behind the two of you, Yoongi heads to the open kitchen and leans against the counter, facing you. You kick off your slippers and turn to face him, half shadowed by the darkness of the hall, half lit by the warm salt lamp in the living room. 

Yoongi drags his eyes up and down your frame. Soft curves, gentle lips, kind eyes. He was gone the first time he saw you, and he’s gone now. Even after all this time. 

“What?” you ask, fingers fidgeting with your t-shirt. He thinks it might be one of his, but he might be imagining it.

“Come here,” he instructs, patting his thigh. 

You grin and approach him. He opens his arms for you and he sighs as you press against him. Your arms wrap around his middle, squeezing him tight. Slotting your head between his shoulder and neck, you hide your face against him, breath warm against his throat. He envelops you in his arms, wrapped around your shoulders and draped down your back. 

Almond fills his senses. He closes his eyes for a second, breathing you in. You don’t say anything, content to sag against him in the low light of the room. This is what he comes here for more than anything. Everything else you offer is secondary. His foremost desire is this - you. 

“Everything okay?” you finally ask, because of course you do.

“Mhmm. Just a long night.”

“You smell like perfume.”

“Hmm?”

“Like peaches.”

He opens his eyes and looks down at you. You crane your head so that you’re peering up at him with one eye, brow arched. His mouth twitches. “Jealous?”

“Maybe.” 

“Interesting.”

“Not particularly.” 

He lowers his arms, letting them drape around your waist. He smacks the round of  your ass a bit, not enough to hurt but enough to make you pout. “We really going to get into the mechanics of this right now?”

Your smile is all he needs to know you’re not serious. At least, not enough to do something about it. “No, but it’s fun to tease you.” 

“Perhaps I should tease you back, then.” 

Hand in hand, you lead him to your room. Yoongi sees the white sheets and grins. White sheets are for him. Grey sheets are for clients, something you’d established in the infancy of whatever this relationship is. He appreciates the little layers of how you make things different for him. You make him feel special - and not the kind that he pays for. 

Falling backward into the bed, you look up at him with those fucking eyes that make him week in the knees. It’s dark in the room but he knows it well, standing at the foot of your bed and reaching down to snatch an ankle and pull you a bit closer. You squeal as he does, making a jolt of joy go through him, grinning. 

“How was your day?” he asks, lifting your foot to rest on his shoulder. He presses an innocent kiss to your ankle and he watches your brows furrow. “What?”

“Are you a foot person?”

“What if I was?”

You shrug a shoulder, watch him trail kisses down your calf. He nips the meat of your leg, an innocent bite but one that makes your leg twitch. “I’d say I’m surprised to learn something new about you after three years.”

“Yeah?” Yoongi lowers himself so that he’s on his knees, the carpet pressing into his slacks. The back of your knee fits perfectly over his shoulder, your leg resting along his back. You lean up on your elbows and look down at him, watching him settle between your legs. “Think you know everything about me, huh?”

Yoongi’s hands feel your warm skin. He marvels at the softness of your thighs, stroking his hands back and forth. Looking at you, he raises his brow in question. You’re too distracted by the feeling of his hands. It stirs something in him, and he cruves his fingers, dragging his blunt nails softly against your skin.

“Feels good,” you mumble, half-lidded. “I do know everything about you, Min Yoongi.”

“That so?”

“Yes. I could eat your heart if I wanted to.”

Yoongi’s stomach flips at how right you are, at how much you know it. Your confidence in his feelings never fails to make him feel like he is cut open and laid bare at your feet, waiting for you to step on him. To make him regret that vulnerability. 

You never do. At every turn, you’ve shown him that you won’t take advantage. That you have no desire to use the fact that one of the most powerful men in the city is in the palm of your hand. Power for the taking. You could wield him like a weapon, he thinks, and yet you don’t. All you want from him is for him to speak freely, to kiss you often, and to hold you tightly. 

So he does. 

Yoongi presses kisses up the softness of your thighs. You drop from your elbows to lay flat on your back again, your breath catching. He watches raptly at the rise and fall of your chest as you gasp a little. He knows exactly what you like, reaching for your sleep shorts to pull them off slowly. 

Tonight, he has nowhere else to go. Neither do you, letting him lean further up between your legs to press wet, open-mouthed kisses against your hips. You squirm a little, sensitive in the hip area. He loves it - would die for it - letting his tongue slip between his teeth to lave over your hot skin to soothe stinging flesh where he’s nipped you. 

His hands are familiar with every dimple in your skin and every curve. He traces them as he pulls your shorts down, grabbing the elastic band of your underwear as he does. He throws them on the floor, hands settling on the inside of your knees as he presses you open, dropping his eyes to your wet folds. 

Yoongi groans. You’re always so eager for him. That’s never been an illusion, the way your cunt drips slowly down to the curve of your ass at the most innocent of touches from him. It fuels Yoongi’s ego, knowing he has this effect on you. Knowing he’s the only one who can get you trembling in anticipation just by kissing the inside of your knees. 

He made the mistake only once asking if you ever get off with your other clients. The flash of anger and irritation had never made him ask again, but you at least gave him an answer: no. 

Thinking back on it now, Yoongi doesn’t know why he asked. He doesn’t care who you have before or between. All he cares about is being in the darkness of this room, your scent heady, his head shadowed between your legs. 

Leaning forward, Yoongi drags the flat of his tongue up your cunt slowly. You let out a moan and he hums, closing his eyes. He’s been craving your sweet tang all day, the tip of his tongue lingering just under your clit before he drags around it, missing your bundle of nerves on purpose. You let out a sound but he grins, removing his tongue to return to tracing sloppy kisses on your legs instead. 

Already lightheaded, he grounds himself by sliding his hands along the outside of your thighs, gripping you here and there as he lavishes you with attention. He knows he’s tired, but he at least wants this. Wants to taste you before bed, to have you melt in his mouth, fingers in his hair. He needs it. 

Yoongi doesn’t dip into the drugs that his operation injects into the streets. He doesn’t need to. There’s nothing that makes him forget who and where he is the way you do. Nothing that amounts to feeling your soft skin beneath his palms, smelling the barest hint of sweat beneath your vanilla perfume.

When Yoongi gets a taste of you, it’s an instant high. He feels lost, hands skimming up your thighs to hold your hips to the bed. Your hands seek his, linking your fingers and pressing your joined hands to your hips as he drags his tongue up the inside of your thigh.

This is why he keeps coming back. The intimacy. The reassurance that this is something more than an accident that Yoongi stumbled on a few years ago. That this is more than the roll of bills he will leave on the nightstand tonight, even when you say not to. 

There is nothing else he needs in these stolen moments with you. 

“Yoongi,” you murmur, voice soft. He hums in response. “Please, I’m going to lose my mind.”

“Good,” he shoots back, biting your knee. You twitch and curse at him, making him laugh. Your glossy cunt is a sure sign that you’re not lying, though. Clit swollen, hole clenching. “Fuck, you have such a wet pussy.” 

“Then put your fucking mouth on it, Yoongi.” 

He laughs. “As you wish, Angel.” 

A breathy whine in the shape of Yoongi’s name leaves your mouth when he starts to eat you out properly. He takes his time, eyes closed as he indulges, tongue rolling up and down your slick pussy. You turn liquid in his mouth, your hips canting as he flicks his tongue across your clit. You shiver in his hands and he grins, gently sucking your clit into his mouth. 

“Yeah,” you pant. “Fuck, like that.” 

Alternating between fastening his mouth on your pussy to suck gently and sliding his tongue into your hole, Yoongi goes with what he knows makes you a mess. Holds out his tongue and lets you fuck yourself against his face, your hand coming to grip his long hair. 

The wet slide of you against his face makes him ache in his pants. He ignores it, determined to hold you still as he buries his face in deeper, picking up the firmness and pace of his mouth and tongue. He feels your essence drip down his chin and his neck. Hears the squelch when he thrusts his tongues into your pussy. Can’t get enough of the way your thighs close around his head, muffling the sound of you whining and saying his name.

Yoongi’s scalp stings when you pull his hair. He doesn’t care. He whips his head back and forth between your legs, tongue pressed against your throbbing clit. You’re shaking underneath him and he pushes you further, dipping low to slurp at your pussy bottom to top, not letting an ounce of you spill out. 

“Holy fuck,” you squeak, voice high-pitched as you arch off the bed. He looks up at you, mouth attached. “Your fucking mouth.” 

He grins, and leans into you further, pushes your thighs higher. Your legs bend easily under his weight. His hips are pressed against the foot of the bed now, hips rolling slightly, seeking for friction. His eyes close as he gets the barest bit of friction against his cock, more focused on making you come into his mouth than getting himself off.

When you come, your whole body goes taut. Yoongi holds you tight in his hands, mouth moving against you messily as he licks you through your orgasm. You dissolve in his mouth, making him hum against your heat. You twist in the sheets, body twitching, muscles flexing. He avoids your clit, thrusting his tongue into your entrance until you’re gasping for air, hands pressing against his head to get him to stop.

Yoongi removes his mouth with one, lascivious lick. He sits backwards on his feet, panting as he looks at you melt into the bed. Your limbs are lifeless and tangled in the blankets, your hand over your eyes as you catch your breath. You look fucking beautiful. 

“Come here,” you rasp, voice rough. 

The bed creaks under Yoongi’s weight. He walks over on his knees, drinking you in. Your cum slicks your thighs, shining in the barest shaft of light escaping the bathroom from a nightlight. You turn to face him, face balmy with sweat. You reach up and work the zipper on his pants, making his stomach flip.

“You don’t-”

“Shut up,” you growl, tugging the metal down hard. He smirks as you press your fingers into his hard shaft through the cotton of his briefs. “Wanna feel your cock in my throat. Can you fuck my mouth?” 

“Fuck yeah, Angel.” 

Yoongi nearly falls getting out of his pants. You laugh, the sound so sweet that he feels himself blush. He’s hot all over, coming alive in the darkness of your room as he strokes his cock. You look innocent, splayed on the bed and blinking up at him. 

Precum drips from his dark tip and you open your mouth, tongue catching it. He curses under his breath, entranced by the way your tongue disappears between your lips. You hum, a glint in your eye as you smirk at him. 

“Vixen,” he says, shaking his head.

“Give it to me.”

One day he thinks he’s going to die of loving you. He knows that this is what it is. It’s more than you opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue for him. It’s more than him letting you suckle on the tip of his cock playfully, his eyes fluttering shut and his thigh muscles twitching. 

Yoongi loves you. It is an incredibly simple fact in his over-complicated world. Among all of the shit and the moves and countermoves he deals with every day, coming here to simply be in love with you is a relief. A home. 

A shiver crawls up his back as he slowly inches his cock into your mouth. Your mouth is wet and warm, your tongue rough on the sensitive underside of his shaft. He keeps one hand on the base of his cock and the other on your jaw, keeping your mouth open to make the slide easier. 

Everything fades away again. Yoongi sucks in a sharp breath as you open up for him. When he touches the back of your throat, he’s careful at first. He knows you can take it. You’ve taken so much more from him, gone so much harder. He doesn’t want to go hard tonight though. He feels soft at the edges, your taste lingering in his mouth.

The wet sound of your throat convulsing around him making him stroke faster. He knows you’re okay, breathing heavily through your nose as you gurgle around him, spit and precum slicking his shaft as he pulls in and out, marveling at the way you look at him, eyes watering.

Your eyes fix on him. Yoongi clenches his teeth, trying not to burst in your mouth. It’s hard when you look at him like that, gaze so dark and hungry and fathomless. You’ve never said you love him. You don’t have to. He knows. He knows in the same way he is aware you know he loves you. He knows enough to trust you with him. With everything. 

There’s not a single doubt with you. It is a rare gift to share this open trust with someone, especially in his position. It is an added bonus that you know he loves it when you swallow around his cock as he presses into the back of your throat. The tight heat of your throat constricting around him does him in, and Yoongi comes with a growl.

You take it in stride, gulping. Taking it down. His eyes roll back in his head and he thinks that if he didn’t love you already, this alone would make him fall in love. 

Pulling out his softening cock, he falls backward on the bed. He’s still in the top half of his clothes, but he is exhausted, lashes fluttering. Your hands are delicate as you begin to pull the jacket from his body. He rolls to the side and lets you, lost in the daze of a much needed orgasm. He feels at ease now, more than he has all day. 

“Come on,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to the spot under his ear. “Take a quick shower while I change the sheets, they’re sweaty. And I came on them.”

“I’d sleep in them anyway.”

“Hmm, too bad. Shower.”

“Meh.”

“Yoongi, you smell like a whore.” That makes him crack an eye and look at you. Your gaze is pointed. “And not like me. I don’t like it.”

“Huh. So you are jealous.”

“Get in the shower.” Your mouth twitches as you try to fight a smile. “Or else.” 

-

Getting up before the sun is your favorite thing. Even now, when you’re tired from being woken up in the middle of the night, you make an effort to crawl out of bed to make coffee. Your steps are heavy and you shiver in the freezing air of the kitchen as you open a drawer and pull out a coffee pod. You hold it up close to make sure you’ve got Yoongi’s favorite brand before sticking it in the machine and popping the lid down, punching the button to brew.

Yoongi is a sleeping mound in your bed. Leaning against the counter, you admire him from afar. He’ll be up soon, your body clock tuned to the hours of his operation. It’s been that way for over a year now, your circadian rhythm trained to be the most functional during the hours in which Yoongi is awake. 

When you were younger, you would have hated to admit that. Would have detested the thought of ever adjusting a single part of yourself for a man. Your entire job was to be moldable. To put on whatever face your client needed, to shape yourself into whatever person that you needed to be. 

You have been so many things. A wife. A mistress. A temptress. A lost loved one. And darker things still, sliding on the skin of client’s fantasies over-and-over again until you lost the substance that made up whoever you were for hours at a time. 

Back then, it would take hours and days to regain who you were. It wasn’t until you were more advanced that you were able to separate who you are from who you pretended to be. Now, it’s not necessarily. There is no other, no mask. Just you and Yoongi, the single client you decided was worth being moldable for.

The smell of coffee wakes him up before his alarm. You watch him sit up in bed, eyes not yet open. His hand spreads to where he expects to find you, only to discover open space. He swivels back and forth then, looking for you. Maybe a little panicked.

A pang aches your heart. It is so easy to forget that even after years of getting up before him first, Yoongi will never be trained out of the instinct that something of his has been taken. The day he doesn’t worry is the day he’ll lose everything and you know it.

“I’m over here,” you call gently. He relaxes and pulls himself together before getting out of bed and trudging out of the room.

Yoongi is pretty in the morning. His face is swollen with sleep, making him look so much younger. Like a dumpling, even. His mouth is fixed in a pout as he rubs at his eyes, steps uneven and dark hair sticking up all over the place. He looks at you, eyes glassy. The faded pink scar over his eye is less intimidating in the morning. You grin and open your arms. His reaction is automatic, sliding between them and sinking into your embrace, head thudding to your shoulder. 

“Hi,” you purr, your hands squeezing around his middle. His shirt is soft in your fingers as you play with the hem. He grunts back, not much of a morning person. You don’t mind. Instead, you let him lay his weight on you, unwilling to move even as the coffee finishes brewing. He smells like sage shampoo and something more unique to him. “You okay, sleepyhead?”

“Mhmm.”

“Can’t talk yet?” he shakes his head against you and you laugh. “Come on, coffee.” 

With Yoongi latched on to you, you walk over to the coffee maker. You giggle, elated as he clings to your front, letting you move him backwards. With his butt pressed against the counter and arms wrapped around you, you lean around him to grab the steaming mug and bring it in front of him.

Pouting, he drops his hands from you and takes it. 

Years of mornings and carefully pulling back layers of Yoongi has earned this rare silliness between you. You’re acutely aware of the fact that the sleepy man in front of you, no matter how soft and blushing he is in the mornings, is a murderer. He’s extorted people, has threatened them, sits at the top of drug trade, and has pushed people into political office with dirty money and blood. Your eyes linger on his scar, a memento of his violent youth. 

You don’t care. It doesn’t matter what Yoongi is and is not. All that matters to you is that he is Yoongi and that he is yours. At least, yours in the way it matters. You don’t dare ask him for more than what you have. It is the one thing you’re afraid of, because even though you know that he loves you, that you know he trusts you, asking for more is something you don’t want to do. Too many people want more of him. You just want whatever you can have. 

As he sips his coffee, careful not to let it spill over and burn you while you bury yourself in snuggling him, you close your eyes. A couple of years ago, you didn’t think a life like this was possible. Getting in at the Red was the first step in the right direction. Though still for sex workers, it was an upper level platform in the industry you clawed your way to. 

Both of you are similar in that regard. Yoongi started from nothing. A poor boy who dropped out of school to work a job and help pay rent at his apartment, too uneducated with not enough resources to make a dent in the world. It was the same story for you, though perhaps a little bloody around the edges, a hand that started selling you before you could make the choice yourself. 

At the thought of your mother, you feel your jaw clench. The bite of the memory is only soothed by the knowledge of Yoongi putting her down himself. Perhaps it makes you a monster, but you’ve accepted that long ago you were what the world crafted you to be, and you wouldn’t apologize.

If you were Yoongi’s shield, he was your sword. You protected him from the weight of his atrocities, and he slayed your monsters. 

It’s what drew Yoongi to you in the first place, the unapologetic approach to life. You appreciate it in him too. He doesn’t try to pretend that he is more or less than what he is, and you never try to hide the ugly parts of yourself. 

And here he is anyway, coffee-warm lips pressed against your forehead. It almost makes you ask for more, but you don’t. This is enough for now. 

The room at the Red isn’t where you live, but it’s yours in everything except lease. You long stopped using it for its intended purposes, now pleased to use it as a neutral ground to meet Yoongi and to stay where you know he is safe. His sprawling estate under guard and gun is surely safe enough, but you like having Yoongi where you can see him. 

After a mostly innocent shower together, Yoongi gets dressed and kisses you goodbye after you walk him down. It’s still dark outside when you swipe your security key. He puts on his biker helmet and gives you a little salute before jogging down the alleyway, splashing into the morning and vanishing around a corner. 

You linger for a moment, watching the empty space where he vanished. It would be nicer to be somewhere you didn’t have to escort him out. Somewhere you could be together all the time. You don’t think Yoongi would say no if you invited him over to your apartment, but you don’t have the security and the heavy protection that the Red offers. 

Collecting your things, you scribble a note for the cleaner before heading out. You’ll only return to the room if Yoongi intends on swinging by again. Though it is more than a suitable place to spend all your time, you like your small apartment tucked downtown above a coffee shop. It has a hominess that feels more like you. That is a little less sterile. 

Sun cracks over the city, spilling light like yolk over the buildings. You shield your eyes as you make your way down the sidewalk, shafts of light falling between buildings. The subway is full of people heading to work. Everyone shuffles without speaking, some buttoning collars of uniforms while others close their eyes in seats, headphones snug over their head. 

The lull of the train as it starts makes you drowsy, but you fight to stay awake. Now that you don’t spend hours sleeping in and recovering from servicing clients late into the night, you value your mornings. Want to be the kind of person whose business hours are during the day, to feel the sun on your skin. 

At your stop, you disappear in the flow of people going up the steps. The concrete above is still wet from the rain the night before, your steps tapping wetly as you go. It’s still summer, but the wind in the shade is cool as you enter the parking garage of your building, heading toward the elevator. 

It’s mostly empty, people having left for work already. There’s a single black SUV by the elevator that you don’t recognize, the windows too dark to see inside. As you approach the car, you realize that it’s on, idling quietly. 

Years of living in the wrong part of town have you slowing your steps. Your eyes flicker to the plate to see a metal shield over it, hiding the numbers on the vehicle. The back of your neck tingles. You come to a full stop, staring at the running vehicle. No one makes a move to get out and there’s no indication that someone is inside.

While you don’t live in the luxurious part of town, your neighborhood is relatively safe. It’s not without instances, but you live deep into Yoongi’s territory, his foothold on this block strong. You’ve never had to worry about walking down the road by yourself at night or making it to your apartment when drunk.

Now, you’re worried. Instinct needles you sharply. There is no reason to think the SUV means you any harm, but something is screaming at you to walk away. 

Then the elevator opens and a normal looking man and woman exit. They don’t pay you any mind as they get into the vehicle, shutting the back door. Your nerves ease and you laugh at yourself for being so ridiculous. There’s no reason for anyone to be doing something nefarious this early in the morning. 

Shaking yourself out of it, you walk the rest of the way to the elevator. As you reach your hand to press the button to call the elevator car, you hear the sound of the car doors opening. You whip your head to look over your shoulder as men get out of the passenger seat and the back seat.

Instinct kicks in. You turn and run, screaming shrilly for anyone that can hear you. They take off after you, steps thundering against the pavement as the SUV squeals its tires to back out of the spot and peel after you. There’s nowhere to go but out into the street. You head for the sidewalk only to be snatched from behind and lifted off your feet.

You react immediately. You throw your elbow back, connecting to one of the men’s faces. He screams and you hear bones crunch. He drops you but your knees buckle, a mix of fear and lack of coordination making you fall to the ground. The other man is on top of you, pressing you into the ground as you scream savagely, kicking your limbs to wiggle out of his grip. 

He grabs your hair and pulls. You yell out, eyes smarting from the sting in your scalp as he then shoves your face into the ground. It hurts. Pain blooms in the side of your face. You’re aware of tiny pieces of gravel digging into soft skin, cutting up your face. The sting is small in comparison to the throb that pulses through your cheekbone as he grinds your face into the pavement. 

Screams echo in the garage as you’re yanked backwards. There are several hands on you, grip like iron. You snarl and yank your limbs to no avail. Just as you’re pulled into the interior of the car, a piece of cloth is slapped hard against your face. You gasp in surprise, a pungent smell filling your nose before you feel a swift fog take over, your mind fading until there is nothing left. 

-

Pain. It’s the first thing you feel when you come to. It’s a slow sort of drift toward awareness, like sluggishly swimming to the surface of a deep lake. You manage to drag yourself there, but immediately want to sink back into the nothingness again once you feel how much you hurt. 

Your face perhaps hurts the most. Not only does your skin burn, but it feels like you’ve been rocked with a cinderblock on the left side of your face. You dully recall having your head pressed into the concrete with near bone-breaking force. It explains why when you open your eyes, the left feels a little swollen. 

The room you’re in is empty. Your shoulder muscles are on fire, hands tied behind your back in the chair you’re sitting in. It’s hard to pinpoint what hurts worse, body littered with bruises and injuries. Still, you’re alive and that has to count for something. 

A man leans against the wall across from you. He watches you curiously. When you become aware of him, you straighten a little in the seat. Your ass tingles with the numbness of sitting there for who knows how long, and your biceps strain with the movement, making you hiss. 

“I’d like to untie you,” the man offers. “But I need a guarantee that you’ll behave.”

You want out of the ropes, so you nod your head. He nods once and pushes off the wall, walking over to you. You use the nearness of his proximity to gather as many details as you can: Patek watch, a basic model. He smells like mandarin and something spicy like pepper - maybe an Arabian fragrance. The suit he’s in is well-tailored and when he pulls a knife out of his pocket to cut the ropes around your wrist, you see a mother-of-pearl handle. 

Money. This man has money. 

Relief makes you sigh, melting into the chair when the pressure in your shoulder blades releases. You immediately lift your hands and place them into your lap, rubbing your trembling fingers across your palms, pressing firmly to encourage blood flow. Your handles tingle as the circulation begins to return to normal, though you can’t make a fist or move all of your appendages immediately. 

The man backs away and leans against the wall once more. He’s incredibly handsome, the kind of guy who might be an actor or in the movie industry, perhaps. You continue to assess him, placing him a few years older than yourself. His hands are linked in front of him. No marriage ring, no tan to indicate there was once a band there either. 

The expensive cologne matched with the watch leads you to believe someone else picked them out, which leaves you with two options: a lover or a sales associate. Judging the make of the watch, you know it doesn’t look like a limited edition series, so not a very personal gift, if a gift at all. And while the cologne smells expensive, it’s too spicy for a day scent, indicating that he doesn’t have someone to tell him the difference between night and daytime colognes.

If you have to guess, they’re things he’s purchased himself on the advice of a sales associate or because of the amount of numbers on the price tag. It’s a habit that comes with new money.

“I apologize for the roughness,” he offers. “It wasn’t my intent to hurt you.”

“Intent matters little. Results matter a lot.”

“Well said.”

Feeling starts to come back to your hands as you flex them. You’re in some sort of construction building. It looks like maybe an apartment building in the making, with plastic tarps covering the windows and metal scaffolding exposing unfinished concrete. Outside, you think you faintly hear the sound of docks and workers.

“Do you know where we are?”

You look him up and down. “We’re in a building. You’re against a wall, and I’m in a chair.”

He scoffs. “Smart mouth.”

“You asked a question.”

“So I did. We’re in a building that was supposed to be my next venture. Someone, however, got in the way and created a bunch of red tape with the city. Now my funding has been slashed and this building has been sitting unfinished for a year, draining me of my property taxes.”

“Well,” you deadpan. “I’m a whore, not a lender. I can’t get you a loan.”

He grins, but you can’t tell if he’s amused. “You’re not just any whore though, are you? I have on good authority you service high profile clients. One of your clients is the reason this building is stuck in paperwork, and now he wants to take even more from me. I can’t let that happen.” 

Yoongi. He’s talking about Yoongi and you know it. You try not to squirm in your seat, meeting his dark eyes head on. Your mind is trying to make decisions and keep up as much as possible, funneling through the list of names Yoongi has mentioned, anything at all that can give you a leg up.

“High profile clients are where the money is,” you admit. You think perhaps this man is Kwan Daehyun, whom Yoongi has been playing chess with for the better part of a year. “I don’t like to sell information on my clients, but I suppose you know that since you kidnapped me.”

“Consider the sales price on this particular client’s information to be your life. I just need a little bit of information, and you’re free.”

You shrug. “You’ve got me there. What do you want to know?”

“Min Yoongi.” You continue to stare at him, giving away nothing. Your heart is racing in your chest and you try to keep your hands from shaking. When you continue not to answer, he clicks his tongue, annoyed. “What can you tell me about his weaknesses?”

You can’t help it, you laugh. Kwan frowns as you giggle. It hurts to laugh, face bursting with pain as you catch your breath and shake your head. “What a cheesy fucking questions. What, you think I just have a list of things that can hurt Min Yoongi?”

“I know how pillow talk goes. He must talk about his stress. Brag about his assets. What else do men go to whores for?”

“To get their cock sucked, usually.”

Kwan pushes off the wall and storms toward you. You sneer up at him, a little less afraid of him now. He appears small and gutless to you, kidnapping a sex worker to ask for pillow talk secrets to gain a fucking advantage. It means he has nothing on Yoongi and has resorted to pisspoor tactics to get anything usable against Yoongi.

Though how he managed to get to you is unsettling. You’re unsure how he made the connection, or how long he has been watching Yoongi. You find that to be the most irritating, to know that Yoongi has been under surveillance for any period of time. Not that you’ve been smacked around and put in an abandoned building on threat of murder. 

“I will fucking kill you.” 

There is truth in his words. Questioning you is a desperate attempt, but perhaps not his only. It occurs to you that he doesn’t thin you hold any value beyond questioning you, and though he’s said he’ll spare you life, you don’t think that’s true. He only sees you as a vacuum for information, and if you don’t have it or you give it to him, he’ll kill you.

You need to be valuable. And fast. 

“Kill me and you ruin any chance of that deal with him.” Kwan hesitates, eyes darkening as the words spill out of your mouth, “In fact, that was probably already off the table as soon as you had me physically harmed and dragged into a car here. So now, you should stop asking me about what Yoongi’s weaknesses are and start asking, what will Min Yoongi do if you call him and tell him who you kidnapped and tied to a fucking chair.” 

Kwan narrows his eyes. You see him assessing the weight of your words. You fight the urge to leap at him and reach for the folding knife in his pocket. Just because you can’t see a gun doesn’t mean there’s not one, and just because you can’t see or hear anyone else in the building doesn’t mean they aren’t there.

Outside you can hear the cry of a seagull. When you breathe in, you smell ocean water and salt. Definitely keeping you in a building by the docks. You think you know the one. Kwan takes a few steps back from you and crosses his arms over his chest. 

“You think he gives a shit if I have you?”

“You asked for Yoongi’s weakness. You’re looking at it.” 

“I think you’re bullshiting me. I think you’re a whore he won’t deal for.”

“One way to find out, right?”

Instead of answering, Kwan turns on his heel and walks towards the opaque tarp. He walks through it and two men replace him at the entrance. Both of them are armed, staring down at you. Ignoring them, you roll your neck in slow circles, trying to ease the soreness.

Tentatively, you reach a hand up to your face, pressing your fingers into your cheek. You hiss, the pain still raw and present underneath your fingers. You can feel small scabs from where the gravel broke skin, but thankfully it doesn’t feel like your eyes are too swollen. 

Time passes. You remain in the chair, fidgeting now that you’re awake. Your tongue is heavy in your dry mouth and your lips begin to burn from wetting them constantly, only to be dried out by the salty air. You feel itchy and irritable, trying not to squirm too much in the chair lest you disturb the guards.

Most of all, without having to put on a brave performance, you feel afraid. Afraid of being here by yourself in this warehouse, afraid that you’ve made a mistake trying to make yourself valuable, afraid that Kwan isn’t going to give you a chance to talk to Yoongi as proof of life. 

You’re not versed in this part of Yoongi’s life. So much of his business has been held separate from you. The violence and the extortion and the sketchy deals have always been something he did outside of that room at the Red. You’re not afraid of this life, though. Just unprepared and trying to guess what to do next, fueled by poorly written crime movies and stories that Yoongi has told you in the warmth of your bed.

It feels like hours have gone by when Kwan comes back into the room. You sit up straight when you see the phone in his hand and see the fire in his eyes. He looks like a man who has had something go right - which means you have him right where you want him, if he’s doing what you think he is. 

Kwan holds out the phone to you. “You have five minutes to talk to him as an act of good faith on my proposal.”

You see Yoongi’s name on the caller idea and try not to start crying. Swallowing thickly, you lick your lips again and bring the phone up to your ear. The tremble in your hand and your voice isn’t a performance when you say, “Hello?”

“Where are you? He hasn’t told me.”

“Yeah, I’m alive.” You sniff a little. “Agh, don’t make me cry. My face will get saltier than it already is.”

“I need more than that, Angel. He’s trying to make deals with me, but I need to know where you are to come get you. He won’t tell me where you’re at unless I wire over money and legally sign over assets.”

“No, he hasn’t hurt me. He’s been polite, though I’ve been kind of a beach- bitch. I’ve been a bitch. Sorry, I’m very tired.”

“Is it the building in the warehouse district at the docks? That apartment shell?”

“Yes, I can do that. Just… please agree to whatever he says, I feel tired and loaded. Bloated. Sorry, I’m confusing words again.”

“Yeah, well I’ve got fucking guns too. We’re going to come get you okay?”

This time when you sniff, you feel actual tears. Of relief that he understands your weird turns of phrase, of the terror at knowing he’s going to have to come get you. To risk his life for you. You knew he would, and yet you almost hate to ask him. 

“Thank you.” 

“You’ll be okay, Angel, but I need you to listen.” 

“Okay.” 

His voice is firm as he says, “I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself. Don’t think twice about it. It is you or them, do you understand me? There is almost a certainty you are going to have to kill someone when we come get you. Start thinking about it now. Try to get used to it so that when the time comes, you’re not afraid anymore.” 

“Okay. I love you.” 

“See you soon.”

-

Yoongi likes to think that he is an expert in control. His compartmentalization is unmatched, and though he is incredibly proud, his pride is not easily wounded. Foolish slights and insults don’t rile him the way they might have in his youth, and physical threats of harm are amusing, especially when no very few people carry through on their threat. 

When Yoongi hangs up the phone, he loses every ounce of control he’s ever felt. Never has his urge to destroy been so sharp. He sees red, slamming his hands across his desk and swiping everything off. He tastes metal in his mouth as he bites through his cheek, screaming as he hammers his fists on top of the desk hard enough that he thinks he might split the wood. 

Hoseok and Seokjin hear the commotion, crashing into the office with Namjoon and Jungkook behind them, weapons drawn. Yoongi is shaking when he looks up at them, the phone screen cracked in his hand. He cannot stop shaking, the adrenaline coursing through his veins like a dose of heroin. 

All of their voices sound like a mess of sounds. The ringing in his ears overpowers everything they’re saying as he stands there, hands at his side, mind racing and chest heaving as he pants. Why is he panting? Yoongi feels like he’s suddenly not getting enough air, dropping his phone to loosen the tie around his neck, trying to give himself more room to breathe. Why do his clothes feel so fucking tight?

Suddenly it’s like there isn’t enough air in the room. Yoongi feels the tunnel vision come up on him fast. Chills spread through his body as he wavers, hands held out as he tries to catch his breath. He feels hands on him trying to steady him, but he yanks away from them. They feel too close, too much in his space and he needs more room. Room to get this blazer off and breathe. Breathe, why can’t he breathe? 

Yoongi stumbles into a wall. His vision pulses on the edges and he can vaguely make out Hoseok’s voice. He looks up at him and sees his friend, his advisor. Hoseok isn’t touching him, but his head is cocked as he tries to keep and maintain eye contact with Yoongi. 

“Inhale for seven seconds,” Hoseok says. “Then exhale for seven. I’ll count.”

“What?” Yoongi demands.

“You’re having an anxiety attack.” Hoseok states it as if it’s the most common thing in the world. “You have to regulate your breathing or you’re going to pass out. If you pass out, we can’t help.” 

It’s the only thing that gets him to listen. He counts with Hoseok, drawing in long breaths.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

Yoongi has to shake this. Has to get ready and call his people, needs to make plans to come get you. He knows exactly where you are - wants to fucking kiss you for how clever you mange to be even while terrified. 

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

He knows you’re afraid. Yoongi has never heard your voice tremble like that since he’s known you. He knows every tone of your voice, every color to the spectrum of your sounds, able to pick them apart to know how you feel. And while you spoke in a clear tone, it was all wrong. Colored with terror. Voice soft and rough and wavering. 

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

The ringing in his ears fade. Yoongi continues to take slow, deep breaths. His hands are still shaking and he feels a little light headed, but when he blinks a few times and looks around, he sees his closest men and confidants standing around him, waiting. 

“Talk to us,” Hoseok urges. “What’s going on?”

“Kwan has my girl. They’re in that apartment project we froze in the docks.”

“He told you where they were?”

“No, she did.”

Hoseok looks weary. “That sounds like a trap - did he already offer you a deal?”

“He said several things. He didn’t tell me where they were, she did.”

“In front of-”

“Hoseok, stop asking stupid questions or I swear to fucking god I’ll hit you first. She’s not used to any of this, but she isn’t fucking stupid. She used the words salt, beach and loaded. They’re in that building and they’re armed.”

“Poetic,” Seokjin grunts. Yoongi cuts his gaze to his head of security and the man pales. “Sorry, bad timing.”

“Get every fucking person we know on the fucking ground and here. We’re going to get her.”

“They’ll see us coming from a mile away.”

Yoongi stares at Seokjin. “I don’t give a fuck. Kwan wanted to find a weakness, well he found one. And now I’m going to paint that shitty little development with his blood.”

An hour later is when it hits Yoongi. He stops in the middle of tying a shoe and he stands. He’s replaying the conversation with you over and over in his head, looking for any other details he could have missed. He was so fucking proud of you for getting your point across even while scared, but now it’s something else he thinks of.

I love you. He had almost not realized you said it at all at the end of the call. He can’t remember if he said it back, but he’s suddenly sick over the what if of it all. What if he doesn’t get to say it back? What if he gets there and swarms in, only to find you dead? 

In a moment of panic, he texts Hoseok to request proof of life on the hour every hour from Kwan under the guise of considering his horrendous deal. Kwan, of course, thinks he’s got Yoongi. He doesn’t, naturally. They haven’t agreed on a time or place to meet, and Kwan does not seem to understand just how poorly he’s miscalculated. 

None of it matters. All that matters is that Yoongi is going to come get you like he promised, and he is never letting you out of his sight again. 

-

Surprisingly, your living conditions change a little upon Kwan learning that you’re more valuable kept alive and in decent condition than beat up or dead. He has a cot and a fan brought in, along with an ice back for your cheek and a thermos of water.

You crush the thermos almost immediately. Though you’re kept under armed guards now, you’re relieved to be able to lay down and stretch your sore limbs. When the ice pack finally grows hot and melts on your aching cheekbone, one of the guards gets you a new one without question.

It almost makes you feel bad for what is to come. Almost. 

You know Yoongi. It’s why you gambled with a hostage play in the first place. He won’t let them have you and it doesn’t matter what Kwan offers him, Yoongi is far too powerful to accept deals from the likes of Kwan. It isn’t so much a matter of pride as it is a matter of power. You know Yoongi has the power to pull you out of this without further harm. 

At least, you have put every ounce of trust and confidence in him that you have. 

Time moves slowly. It’s hard to know how fast Yoongi will mobilize or what his plan is. It would make sense for him to perhaps cause a distraction elsewhere to get Kwan’s eyes off of you, but it’s also a dangerous game to play with a hostage. 

It doesn’t matter. Yoongi has his job and you have yours, which is to work the screw out of one of the cots joints. You’ve picked one that isn’t imperative to the overall structure of the cot. It can bear your weight without the screw as long as you don’t lean on the joint too much. It takes you a while to unscrew it with your bare fingers, all while lying on your back trying to look uninterested in anything.

I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself. 

Finally, you pull the cool metal free. You slide it into the pocket of your sweatpants. The weight of it feels better than nothing. It won’t do much damage, but a well placed punch to the face with the screw between your knuckles will do what you need, even if you damage your hand to do it. 

You’ve never killed someone. Thought about it a few times, maybe. Had some people try to sway you to slip something into a client’s drink, but you never accepted. Killing isn’t your business. It’s Yoongi’s, but you know that if he’s telling you to take the chance, it’s because he wants you to live. 

The thought is chilling. You rest your hand on the pocket, feeling the shape of the screw. You don’t know how to kill. You’re not even entirely sure that you have it in you. You’ve seen people die and you’ve seen people murder. It seems easy.

You’re not sure if it’s that simple. 

It’s late into the night when a commotion draws you from your half-slumber. You lift your head as someone comes in and mutters something to the guards. They nod and one of them leaves, the other turning to face you with a glare, hand resting just inside his jacket where you assume there’s a gun.

Outside, you hear the sound of peeling tires as a car takes off. 

Nerves take over. You feel your heartbeat pickup as you continue to lay on the cot, one hand under your pillow. It’s hard to think of what might be happening over the sound of your own pulse, but you try to regulate your breathing. There’s nothing happening right that second that you can control, so there’s no reason to panic.

A few minutes go by. It’s agony, waiting with bated breath. It’s quiet outside except for the sounds of the ocean and the mostly empty warehouses and docks. Plastic snaps in the breeze, loud in the silence of your waiting. You think that this is the worst part, the anticipation for what’s to come. You can’t sleep now even if you tried. 

When the first round of gunfire comes, you almost lose control of your bowels. It’s a shameful sort of fear that takes you by surprise, making you freeze up. You have been waiting for it, and yet now that you can hear the sound of automatic weapons somewhere below, it feels worse than you imagined. 

Looking up at the guard at the door, you reel in surprise to see him rushing toward you. Time seems to slow down. The sound of guns and yelling fade to the background everything suddenly becomes hyper focused. 

I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself. 

As the guard leans to pick you up, you strike like a snake, pulling the screw from your pocket and jabbing upward with a savage scream.

His guttural cry splits the night. You feel hot blood spray your hand and dot your face as you plunge the blunt screw into his eye socket. Blood makes your fingers slippery and as he falls onto his back, hands clutching his face, you lose your grip. 

I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself. 

No hesitation. You dive for him, stained hands searching for the weapon. The metal of the gun slides in your slick fingers. Through the blinding pain, the guard realizes what you’re doing and grabs your forearms. You pull back against him but can’t shake his grip, your hand stuck in his jacket on the gun. You finger the trigger and squeeze, but it doesn’t budge. The fucking safety. 

Sliding a knee down, you crush the cap of your knee between his legs, pressing his balls with your full weight. He screams and his grip goes slack. You yank on the gun, almost dropping it as it slides free from the holster. Your grip is clumsy and shaking, your heart pounding so hard you think you might die of fright before you manage to find the safety on the hammer and pull it back. 

I need you to do whatever it is you need to do to protect yourself. 

Click. Squeeze. Bang. 

You don’t aim. Don’t have the sense to at that moment. This close, you don’t have to aim at all. You hit your target and his yelling turns to shrieks. You can’t tell where you’ve shot him, all you know is that you have. You scramble away, hands slipping on the floor, gun clutched clumsily in your hand. 

A hand goes around your ankle and you scream as he drags you backward. You roll onto your back, bringing the gun up again, trying to aim in the general direction of his chest.

Squeeze. Bang. 

It’s so loud. Your ears are ringing and you’re unable to hear anything as the grip on your ankle immediately goes slack. The guard goes limp, the fight leaving him immediately. You don’t look - can’t look. Can’t focus on anything but the way your vision tunnels. 

Dizziness sweeps over you as you crawl away from him again. Your knees and palms might hurt if you could feel anything at all, but numbness starts to take over as you manage to press yourself against a wall near the doorway. You don’t dare move toward it, too untrained to handle a gun while terrified. 

“Angel!” you hear Yoongi’s voice screaming somewhere in the building. You open your mouth but nothing comes out. Your lips tremble. You try to find your voice, willing the words to come. Mouth open, his name on the tip of your tongue, you can’t find a response. “Angel, come on, baby! Where are you?”

“Yoongi,” you whisper. It’s not nearly loud enough and your voice cracks on the name. You close your eyes and take a deep, shuddering breath as you muster strength behind your voice. “Yoongi!” 

“That’s it, keep talking to me.” 

It sounds like he is yelling somewhere down a stairwell, voice echoing up concrete walls. “Up!” You start to curl into yourself. “Yoongi, up!” 

Steps thunder in the stairwell. You drop the gun next to you and look at your hands. They’re slick and wet. In a panic, you start wiping them on your sweatpants, smearing red as you do. You viciously wipe your hands. You want the blood off, you don’t want it all over you, it’s hot and stick and it’s not yours and it belongs to the dead man who was trying to take you-

Warm hands grab your face and tilt you upward. You blink through blurry tears. Yoongi looks back at you, his forehead sweaty and his slicked back hair a little messy. He turns your face from side to side as more of his men flood into the room, guns raised.

Yoongi’s mouth moves but you can’t hear him. You shake your head, looking up at him. His grip softens and the gentle brush of his thumb back and forth across your face eases the rising panic inside of you. You sniff, taking a few slow, trembling breaths. 

“Are you seriously injured?” Yoongi asks again, voice rough. Cracking. “Do you need medical attention?”

“No.”

“The blood-” You shake your head violently, closing your eyes. “Okay. It’s okay. You did what you needed to do, Angel. I’m going to get you on your feet and take you home, okay?” 

“I don’t-”

“My home. Not yours. You’re coming home.”

Yoongi doesn’t need to explain what he means. As he slowly pulls you to your feet, you know what he’s telling you. You’re going to his estate, because it’s yours too now. The agreement is unspoken but mutual. You don’t want to go back to your apartment. You don’t want to go back to the Red. Right now, all you want is to wash the blood from your hands and get away from this place. 

Seokjin is at the door with a blanket. He wraps it around you as Yoongi keeps his hands around your waist, steadying you as you walk. You get down two levels of stairs before he tucks you into him and presses his lips against your temple.

“Close your eyes,” he murmurs, mouth moving against your skin. “I won’t let you trip.”

You do as you’re told. His steps are confident and careful as he leads you through the bottom floor. You hear the murmur of voices, the flapping of plastic tarp, and the humming engines of vehicles. Yoongi lifts you lightly and helps you get into the cool interior of a car that smells like leather. 

When the door shuts, you flinch and open your eyes, staring straight forward. Yoongi is next to you, arm going around your shoulders as he pulls you into his side again. You realize for the first time as you glance at him that there’s blood on his face and in his hair. His knee bounces up and down, his hand resting against it, still gripping a gun with the safety off. 

“Are we safe?” you whisper, staring at his gun. 

“Yes.”

“Then why-”

“It makes me feel better,” he admits. “I just need to come down.”

“Okay.” 

“Look at me.”

You do. His eyes are dark and though his mouth is pinched at the corners and the vein throbs in his forehead, his eyes are soft for you. “I love you,” he murmurs. “We’re safe.”

-

A week makes the pain in your cheekbone fade away. A week does not make the memory of squeezing the trigger fade. At night, the memory is worse. What your mind had been unable to remember at first comes back in full-clarity at night, gripping you in your sleep and dragging you down into an endless terror until Yoongi pries you from the clutches of your nightmares and wakes you. 

It’s easier with him by your side, though. You’re at least able to fall asleep, if not stay asleep through the night. When he wakes you from screaming and thrashing in the sheets, you’re able to settle against him, his hold on you firm. Comforting.

Yoongi takes this in stride. He doesn’t complain, doesn’t lose his patience. He simply murmurs that he gets it and holds you, his skin warm and smelling like home. 

Home. 

The estate is a sprawling mass of elegance that stuns you each day. Beyond the opulence of the home and the luxury that it offers, what matters most is the security. The personnel at every entrance, the high gate with cameras and alarms, the three lurking dobermans that still terrify you when you see them standing in a dark hall at night or watching you in the kitchen when you get a glass of water after a nightmare. 

Nox has come around to liking you, at least. She’s become your shadow in the house, which had made you a little unsure at first. Now, she trails you up the stairs and to the master bedroom. You’ve grown used to her - prefer it, even, when Yoongi is not home like right now. 

Erebus and Khonsu are on the floor of the master bedroom. Both watch you as you enter, unbothered but aware. Where their younger sister has adopted you as an owner and a thing to protect, they still seem set on Yoongi only. 

The three dogs remain in the bedroom as you end the bathroom. It makes you feel safe to know that even if someone managed to get through the gates, up the driveway, through the secured doors and the dozen people that Yoongi has stationed at the estate since your kidnapping, the dogs are another line of defense. 

So is the gun under the bathroom cabinet and in the nightstand, but you don’t want to touch a gun ever again. Not if the nightmares it gives are like this. 

Steam fills the room accompanied by the scent of eucalyptus. Carefully, you peel the clothes from your body and toss them into a corner. The stone shower is warm with heated floors and a digital panel both inside and outside for control of the fifteen different water settings. There’s even steam options, but you simply turn on the rain feature, slipping under the dripping ceiling. 

The hot, wet taps of the water lull you into a trance. You stand with your head tilted down, letting the rivulets of water run the full length of your body.

“Angel, I’m home,” Yoongi calls from the bedroom. You smile, appreciating that he announces his presence instead of sneaking up on you. He’s always careful to make noise when he enters rooms now and announces his arrival. “You just get in?”

“Yeah,” you call back. “Join me?”

“Give me five.” 

When he finally enters the bathroom, you turn around to look at him. He’s already pulling the tie around his neck loose, dropping it to the ground. You catch sight of the red across his knuckles. Though he is free of blood - an effort on his part now to bring it home to you - you notice the days where he comes home and his knuckles are split or bruised, hands aching. 

Watching Yoongi undress captures your full attention. His movements are slow and methodical. His back is to you, shirt dripping off his broad shoulders to join the tie on the floor. He looks up in the mirror and pauses, dark eyes catching yours. You raise a brow and gesture for him to continue. When he does, it’s with his tongue poking his cheek and a smirk. 

Knowing that you’re watching, Yoongi turns it into an art. His fingers trace the top of his slacks before he slowly undoes the belt, pulling it with a satisfying hiss through the loops before holding it out to the side and letting it clatter to the floor. Your eyes are zeroed in on his reflection in the mirror as he works the button open, peeling the top of his pants apart to reveal the logo of his briefs. 

Yoongi pauses. Your eyes dart up to his in the mirror to find him watching you, eyes dark. The scar looks menacing today. You squeeze your thighs together, chewing on your bottom lip. He notices, smirk growing as he rolls the slacks down his thighs and kicks them aside. You see the imprint of his half-hard cock in his briefs, your attention on him alone enough to get his blood pumping.

You’ll never get over having that effect on him. Knowing that even after the nightmares and becoming an inconvenience - in your eyes, at least - the chemistry between you isn’t gone. It’s still there, a burning candle. 

Slowly, Yoongi peels off his briefs. His heavy cock bobs as he steps out of them and you feel your pussy clench around nothing, just thinking about him stretching you open. He says nothing about the small bead of precum at the tip as he turns and walks over to the shower.

He’s built beautifully. Broad shoulders with a slim, tapered waist. Strong arms and large hands, firm chest and soft but muscular stomach. Yoongi is the perfect blend of pretty and rugged, a combination that you didn’t know existed until him. 

When he steps into the shower, you step further into the water, making room for him. He shuts the door and frowns at the distance between you, holding out his hand. You take it immediately and he pulls you forward, careful not to let you slip on the tile.

He doesn’t waste a moment. Yoongi’s mouth captures yours, wet from the shower water as he sucks your bottom lip between his teeth, nipping lightly. You hum, bringing your arms to loop around his neck, fingers combing through his wet hair. His cock presses against your lower stomach, and you shiver. 

Yoongi’s kisses are addicting. Slow, like he has all the time in the world, but hungry, like he can’t get enough. His tongue brushes the roof of your mouth, his teeth pulling at your lip again when he pulls his mouth away to press open-mouthed kisses on your jaw. 

Tilting your head back, you let him pepper kisses along your throat. You close your eyes, letting him hold you to him. The room tilts as you sway in his arms, the feeling of him licking the hollow of your throat entrancing. It’s so simple yet it feels so good. 

One arm loops around your waist to keep you pressed to Yoongi, his other slides up your wet skin to cup your breast. You let out a breathy moan when you feel his thumb circle your stiff nipple, the stimulation so bare but so good. 

Yoongi keeps you cradled against him, mouth working your neck and shoulder and back up to your mouth while his thumb lazily plays with your nipple. You're pliant in his arms, letting him do whatever he wants with you.

His mouth starts to descend and when he finally takes your nipple into his mouth, you can’t stop the whine that escapes you. He hums as he sucks gently, tongue flicking back and forth over the peak. You can’t help but twitch in his arms, a ripple of pleasure sliding through you. 

Heat pulses between your legs and you feel the slick gathering in your folds. Your legs squeeze together again as Yoongi drags his teeth over your sensitive nipple before letting go and switching to the other. This time, he looks up at you through dark, wet lashes, sticking out his devilish tongue as he uses the tip to trace your skin.

“Show off,” you mutter, voice shaking. 

He laughs and runs the flat of his tongue over your nipple before giving a sharp suck that has you arching into him. “You love having your tits in my mouth,” he shoots back. He bites the top of your breast softly, teeth scraping your soft skin. “Don’t deny it.”

“I plead the fifth.”

“Hmmm.” 

“You don’t have to say anything,” he teases. The hand around your back slides down to your ass. He grabs a handful, squeezing generously. “Can you turn around for me? Legs spread so I can see that pretty pussy.” 

“Fuck.” 

He drops his arms so you can turn around. You press your palms against the wall, shivering as the cold tile leeches the warmth from you. The temperature difference makes the room tilt. You slide your legs apart and stick your ass out toward him, lifting a little. 

“Fuck yeah.” 

You can’t see him, but you feel him as he slides down to his knees. His palms grip your ass, spreading your cheeks open. You close your eyes and let your head hang between your arms when it feels too heavy to hold up yourself. 

“Just want a quick taste,” Yoongi mutters.

“Shiiiit,” you hiss, feeling his tongue dance up and down your cunt. He licks you in broad, slow stripes before he puts his entire mouth on you and sucks sharply. “Just like that.” 

“Fuck.” The smack of his lips against your wet heat are bracketed by the slick sound of him stroking his cock, the filthy sounds echoing in the shower. “I could eat you out every day.”

“You do.”

“Fine.” His tongue zigzags back and forth, reaching to swirl around your click. He kisses your cunt and stands up. “I’ll make it twice a day, then.” 

The blunt head of his cock slides between your folds. You press back toward him, eager to have him push in and split you open. He tuts at you, giving you a gentle smack on your ass. “Eager.”

“I’ve been waiting all fucking day for it, Yoongi. Give it to me.” 

“Mmm.” 

The feeling of Yoongi sinking his cock into you slowly drives you mad. You feel like you can’t breathe, every inch of his thick length stretching your walls to the max. It feels like he’s in your guts when he bottoms out, the pressure immense and good and dizzying. 

He starts slow, giving a few shallow thrusts as you adjust to be pried open. You relax around him, falling into the pleasure as he begins to fuck you in earnest. Hands on your waist, he pulls your ass backwards, meeting every one of his strokes in a loud, wet smack of hips on ass.

A shiver ripples down your spine and you moan when he adjusts the angle, prodding your g-spot. “Yeah?” he asks through gritted teeth. “That the spot?”

“Yes, please fuck me just like that.”

Nothing else exists beyond this. The steam makes your skin even hotter, cloying the air and making it hard to breathe. It makes everything fuzzy, like you’re drifting in and out of reality, pleasure unfolding in you as you squeeze around his cock. 

Each snap of his hips is punctuated with stilted breath. You’re gasping, thighs burning as you take every inch of him, fingers curling against the wall, eyes rolling back as you fall into a mute space. You make sound but no words come out, the pressure against that spot inside of you driving you mad. 

Yoongi slides a hand from your waist over the curve of your ass and between your cheeks, thumb pressing gently on the rim of your ass. You let out a loud moan, fingers trying to grab the wall to no avail. The new stimulation feels delicious, Yoongi’s thumb pressing against your asshole in time with his strokes. He doesn’t push past the ring of muscles, but it doesn’t matter - it’s enough to send you careening closer to your orgasm, toeing the line of insanity. 

“Fuck, Angel,” he pants, fucking into you harder. “Just like that, make it fucking creamy. You gonna come?” 

“Fuuuuck yeah.”

His thumb presses harder against your rim. “Come on, give it to me.” 

“Shit shit shit shit.” 

You lose the ability to say anything. Your body folds forward, only held up by Yoongi and the press of the freezing cold wall as he fucks you with precision. It sends you over the edge, your knees knocking as you come, fists pressing into the wall as you yell through it. 

The sound of the shower is drowned out by your babbling. Yoongi thrusts hard a few more times, hand slipping away from your ass to grip your waist hard, chasing his high. He comes with a loud curse, fingers digging into your skin. 

For a moment, he leans into you, pressing his cock as far in as he can go. Your pussy throbs around him, every pulse ebbing around him. He presses kisses up your spine, hands sliding up your ribs to pull you upright until your back is against his chest. 

“Fuck,” he pants, voice rough. “I’m so glad you’re mine.”

“I’ve always been yours.”

“I mean entirely. Without sharing.”

You pause, looking up at him with a frown. “You know I haven’t been… taking clients for two years, right?”

He pauses. “What?”

“You stupid boy,” you laugh, laying your head against his shoulder. “Of course I wasn’t. I just wanted you.” 

“Then why stay there?”

You shrug a shoulder, letting your eyes fall closed. The warmth of the orgasm blooms through you, Yoongi’s skin hot against your back and  the shower hotter still. “It was a place I knew you’d be safe when you visited. And I didn’t want to ask you for more. Everyone always wants more from you. I just wanted you.”

“All that time, I could have just… asked you to come home?”

“Yes. But it’s okay. I’m home now.”

He kisses your neck. “You are home, Angel.” 

#yoongi smut #suga smut #min yoongi smut #bts smut #yoongi fic #yoongi fanfic #suga fic #suga fanfic #bts fanfic #bts fic #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #mafia yoongi #mafia bts #minors dni #minors do not interact #halis happy agust

[puripurin]

PLEASEEE I NEEEEEEED MORE ARTIST YAN ( more specifically a detailed scene of the cum room<333)

also can I claim shark anon?

[Artist!Yandere introduction post]

— You slowly blinked open your eyes, and sleep wanted to take over your mind until you realize the situation you were in after recalling that you got hit in the head.

You looked around the room, only to realize it was the room you last stepped into, which was, unfortunately, that disgusting room. Now that you had been bound to a chair in the room, you had a chance to take in this horrid scenery.

Although you were disgusted, you were impressed because artist!yan excelled in many different mediums of art and was top of the class in his first year. Drawings such as charcoal, mixed-media— wait a second— is that a scuplute that was two times your height?? When did that happen??? This is one of few times you put your brain to good use because you never even recall artist!yan asking you to be a model for a sculpture.

Just then, the door opened, and finally, you saw the perpetrator. He gasped before putting down the food tray he held in his hands and shuffling towards you.

"My love!! I am so sorry! You weren't supposed to see this room!!" He weeped pathetically as he dramatically fell close to your knees and rested his head on your lap, knowing that you couldn't even move due to how tight the ropes were.

"Um, was this necessary??" You stared at him in disgust. He choked back a fake sob and turned his head away.

"Yes! Only you deserve to be drawn and scuplt—"

"I MEANT THE DRIED UP CUM STAINS IDIOT!"

Hoi. I'm not sure if you wanted exactly this, but i was slightly drowsy while reading it. Yea, you can be shark anon. I'm still kinda new to tumblr, so imma just gonna assume that i can identify by emojis n shii. Also yall really like yan artist that much.

😶 yall like having a dedicated cum room from a yan? I thought i was makin shit up cus i was just writing until i got to a point where i thought it would be okay to finish at. ngl i had no idea what the intro post to artist yan would end like.

The only reason why i did artist yan was bcos of one of those "Kings Choice" (i think) ads 💀💀💀💀 pls i cant with myself sometimes. Anyways wnough rabling im too tired for this shit.

#yandere #yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere artist

[lexsssu]

Is it possible to request for more sung jinwoo smut? Pls i'm a starved simpTT

TAGS: Jinwoo/Wife!reader, dirty talk, breeding, smut, drabble

Ngl I only just realized that I should have answered this ask with that Jinwoo drabble I recently crossposted from Ao3, but also because of that y'all get a totally new one that hasn't been posted there yet HAHAHAHAHA

Something has gotten into your husband.

How else could you explain the way he didn't even get you into bed before deciding he had to fuck you immediately? The way he so easily lifted you up and down his cock while standing up was certainly something you never expected from him.

"...'m sorry I couldn't reach the bed in time, but I couldn't help myself anymore..."

Despite his seemingly apologetic words, there is no sign of repentance from the way he savagely fucked up into you, almost as if you were just a mere onahole meant to receive his cock and cum.

For Jinwoo, his newfound powers hadn't just amplified his growth and potential as a hunter, but his already burning desire for you, his dearest wife, felt like it was fed steroids AND viagra.

Can he really be blamed for wanting to split your pretty pussy open and maybe fuck another baby inside of you? Fuck, just thinking about how soft and plump you get once he knocks you up again has his mouth watering already.

Perhaps another side effect of this new power was the fact that his depravity was also kicked up a notch or two

"Just cum for me one more time, 'kay sweetie? And lemme cream this pretty pussy too before we take a 'lil break..."

Sung Jinwoo did NOT give you a break, and proceeded to breed you until you felt as stuffed as a freshly-made cream-filled donut. And like said pastry, you could only really lie back as your unapologetic husband cleaned you up, making sure to push back any cum that tried to drip out of your with his long fingers.

Thankfully, Jinah had the foresight to take her nephew to her friend's place knowing full well that her brother and sister-in-law would be...preoccupied.

#lexsssu writes #solo leveling x reader #solo leveling #solo leveling smut #sung jinwoo smut #sung jin woo x reader #sung jinwoo x reader #sung jinwoo x you #sung jinwoo x y/n

[marwhoa]

request: You write the turtles boys so well! I literally can't stop smiling when I read your fics - they're so sweet and endearing. I was wondering, only if it strikes your interest of course, if you'd consider writing about the boys being jealous of each other when the reader spends time with them one on one? Like, maybe a slot for Leo where he thinks reader finds Donnie funnier? Or one for mikey, where he thinks that reader likes how big raph is? Or for raph, where he thinks reader is more enamored with Leo? Or Donnie, where he worries that Mikey is flirting with reader? Of course they're all misunderstandings, and maybe it could end all fluffy with confessions and comforting their respective boy? If not, don't worry, but if so, thank you! 1 look forward to whatever you put out next.

🝮 “ green with envy ”

rise!boys x y/n

author’s note: screaming profusely !!! eeeee !!! So hey yeah here’s a fic, this took a while because it sat in my notes for days before I finally posted it, my bad. This was kinda hard cause I’m not experienced in the realm of jealousy—hopefully y’all like it? ᗡ: also does envy even fit this scenario? Lmao I just be naming these fics any thing, can y’all tell?

word count: 6.1k

┆ ── ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — Leo 💌

Leo never expected he could ever become… jealous, not him—no, no, NEVER him. He had too much pride, too much confidence. There should have never been any room for doubt in his ability to keep you focused and adoring on him, and him alone.

But, perhaps he had given himself too much credit? Or, maybe he had given his twin too little credit.

It wasn’t as though you were his. Just friends, and technically that meant you belonged to the whole family, not just him. But, no one could blame him for coveting you. From how starry-eyed you looked at him to how genuinely you laughed at his jokes, Leo found out too late that he had been falling for you, and here he was still falling. The way your nose crinkled when you laughed, or how your face lit up during Mikey’s dinner times, even down to the wheezing laugh you would give into if he pushed his jokes on too long, all of it spelled out lovely disaster for his heart.

But, fear not, he thought. He was the face man and the funniest turtle, surely there was no competition? No one could be better than him at getting you to make the faces you did.

Or well, it should’ve been no one. He wasn’t even all that funny, but Donnie managed to get you to keel over to some stuff he said—and he didn’t even intend for them to be jokes! A natural comic, can you believe the nerve of this guy?

So, yeah, Leo never expected himself to be jealous, and especially never towards his own brother, but god the way you were showing that tickled-silly expression to Donnie, wiping tears as he confusedly asked what was so funny? It had him gripping the arm of their couch, digging his nails into them. He wasn’t going to take this any longer! Sure Donnie meant no harm and would never try to swoop in and steal the prize he had his eye on, but Leo couldn’t help but still be… aggravated.

The pent-up annoyance was dispelled by the red-slider leaping over the couch, sassily walking over and snaking his arm across your waist.

“ Yeah, whatever, Donnie is sooo funny, but hey, Y/N, let me show you something better! ”

Never mind the fact that he had nothing planned as he twirled his katana in his other hand, slicing the air until a blue portal shimmered into existence. You glanced back and waved good bye to Donnie, fully intrigued by whatever it was Leo wanted to show you.

“ Oh—okay! What is it? ”

“ Who am I to ruin a surprise? ”

He cocked a brow at your question, tugging you through the portal and stepping out into the courtyard of the Witch’s city. While amazed, you wondered just what this had to do with anything—but, of course that was a comment you would keep to yourself until having fully exhausted the excitement of exploring not just any random town, but rather a town of witches!

“ Oh, Leo, finally! I’ve been begging you to bring me here for weeks! ”

Before he could even say anything, you were quickly rushing up to the nearest shop and sparking up conversation. Such a busy bee, but it was just another aspect of you he was captivated by. However, with such an impromptu visit to a rather overwhelming area, he found chances to spark conversation and get you to laugh to be stretched few and far between.

“ Oh wow, this store really doesn’t leave mushroom for walk-through, huh? ”

He gestured to a potions-ingredients shop, which, you guessed it, specialized in all things fungal-based. His shoulders drooped as you continued ahead, not even hearing him. That joke was gold! Huffing, Leo caught up with you and laced his fingers around your wrist, effortlessly stopping you in your tracks.

“ Mm? Leo? ”

You stared up at him with such a look of focus, all your attention finally fully on him, and he had to fight his legs not to reduce to jelly instantly. Instead, he took a deep breath, cocked his head, and insisted you follow him.

Down weaving alleys, through crowds of people, eventually you reached a park unlike any seen on the surface. The paths were lined with thick, luscious plants cultivated through the town’s magic. Foliage swayed with no wind, as though dancing like silk fabric to whatever music only they heard.

Your attention only left the plants when you heard Leo start clearing his throat and then flashing you a look that you recognized all too well. A grin was already tugging at your lips, and Leo finally felt like he was the only one in your world again. His hands held onto his belt and he kicked out his legs, faking as though he were tipping a hat. It seemed like some western cowboy impersonation?

“ What in carnation? ”

There you went, first with a light and short laugh.

“ Well I do say, I took a leaf of faith bringing you here,”

Which then melded into a series, topped with a “ Wait, Leo, hush—please! ”, all stuttered and peppered through your increasing laughter.

“—but, beleaf it or not—“

He wasn’t even able to finish the entire spiel before you were holding onto him, laughing with such a melodious voice. Which, of course, devolved into your trademark wheeze n’snort after dragging on too long.

“ Pwffhaaha!! Leo, wha-what’s with you today? ”

You wiped away a tear, and suddenly Leo was finally brought back to reality. Your hand on his forearm lingered, and he was just completely beside himself with how the glowing willows beside the garden softened your face ever-so-perfectly.

“ Y/N… ”

His voice was so uncharacteristically soft that it had you a tad bit spooked, hand gripping a teensy tighter. Your head cocked slightly in confusion.

“ I.. Ugh, okay, it’s—it’s dumb! But—“

He dragged his hands down his face, groaning exhaustedly.

“ I thought, maybe, you might’ve… Liked Donnie, more than me. ”

“ Huh? Why would you think that, I love all of you guys? ”

“ Yeah, but I love you, and—“

The shock painted on your face had him holding his breath. Alarms went off in his head, telling him he maybe should have held his tongue, not jumped ahead so quickly. The two of you searched each other’s eyes in silence, you recovering from what he said, and him preparing himself for what you would say. Soon enough, your face twisted into a confusion tinged with a bit of playfulness.

“ Wait a second.. You’re jealous, aren’t you? Of Donnie? What for? ”

“ What? What do you mean what for? You, you’ve been laughing at everything he said all day, don’t you think he’s funnier? Don’t you like him more?! ”

If it weren’t his dumb puns and act earlier, it was this that would do you in.

“ Leo, you dummy! Sure I was laughing, but that doesn’t mean I like him more than you, I just, well… ”

It was your turn to be a bit bashful as your eyes looked everywhere except him.

“ I, well.. You’re my favorite, Leo, not Donnie.. ”

As you batted your eyes at him, hoping he would connect the dots thoroughly, your answer was given in the form of his beaming expression as he swept you into his arms, spinning.

“ Ah-hah! So you do like me—and I’m the funnier turtle!? ”

“ Oh no, I shouldn’t have said anything, now you’re too powerful! ”

Playfully you cried, leaning back with your hand dramatically draped across your forehead. Leo chuckled at your antics leaning in to lay his head against your stomach as he tightened his hold firmly.

This was definitely something he would rub in his brother’s face later on—and said brother would be profusely confused by what brought it on???

┆ ── ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — Mikey 💌

Mikey was the last turtle you ever considered could suffer from the classic ailment of “ jealousy ”, and you couldn’t help but feel both ashamed yet intrigued.

While you weren’t too sure what it was that had got him so riled up, you were observant enough to see the way his eyes lit up with a startling emotion. At first it was impossible to pinpoint, just a glimpse of something indiscernible yet startling that crept into his blue hues at the oddest of times.

The first time you had seen that frightful emotion peek its head was during a date. The two of you had decided to hit a bar late at night, him donning a cloaking brooch, of course.

When you arrived, the loud music was entrancing, luring you both onto the dance floor to get lost in each other’s arms. The music coiled around you both, closing the gap to a suffocatingly tight end, as if either of you couldn’t stand any sort of distance apart. The floor vibrated, from both the booming speakers and the music reverberating the whole building alongside the dancing bodies around you both.

Mikey beamed with the brightest smile, and you just knew he was laughing, albeit drowned out from the ambiance. You were both having the time of your lives. Absorbed into a bubble fit for only the two of you, eyes locked on each other, neither party was ready for the stranger’s hands that snaked around your waist, pulling you in without any mind paid to you already having a devoted dance partner.

Chills set in and you turned to Mikey instantly, locking eyes, but the look in his eyes was enough to have your voice hitch in your throat.

That night ended with you both getting kicked out after Mikey wailed on the guy, but after a while, you both laughed and talked all about the fight on the way home.

The next time you saw that look was when you were hanging out with Leo while waiting for Mikey to return back from patrol. He had invited you over, and you planned to do it after wrapping up a few things, so he figured he could finish a patrol and be ready for you when you got done.

Unfortunately for him, you happened to finish your escapade much too early, and thus were at the lair awaiting his return. Leo happened to pass by, so you roped him into a conversation to bide the time. When Mikey did eventually come home, he stepped in to see you nearly keeled over in laughter.

You had been laughing so hard that when you noticed Mikey, you gave a weak wave and continued dying. He was curious what the joke was, but Leo simply shook his head and left, his own laugh dwindling down the hall. Once you recovered and were on your feet, you caught that same scary emotion swirling in his eyes. He tightened his lips and only softened when he turned to you.

More and more questions arose as you came to experience this look time and time again in all kinds of situations, but the one that finally made all the clicks pop into place was his outburst after you were with Raph.

He had been taking care of some villains on patrol with Mikey when you had ended up in the wrong place, wrong time. Their battle had turned to a violent one, with the villain bashed straight into a wall. Debris crumbled down right as you turned the corner, eyes shooting up to see parts of the building falling towards you. There was no time to move, so you just closed your eyes shut right and braced yourself.

But, no pain ever came, just a bit of dust. You opened your eyes, seeing a huge shadow casted over your body, and when you looked up?

It was Raph, who blocked the falling debris with his mighty shell.

“ Raph! “

You yelped, heart thundering in your chest, and Mikey misunderstood the shimmer in your eyes as Raph rose to full height, throwing the concrete off and away. He misinterpreted why you hugged him so tightly when he scooped you up, taking you away from the damage and ushering you to run the other way.

When you’re focusing on the wrong things, it’s easy to get the signs wrong, and boy had the ache in Mikey’s heart got everything so totally wrong. You liked Raph, didn’t you? Why else would you look at him like that? Did you like it when folks were bigger than you, unlike him who simply had an inch or two on you?

How could he be so stupid?

So, that’s how you ended up where you were now, seconds from entering your apartment when Mikey met you with a sour look on his face. You noticed that same glint in his eyes, still trying to piece together what it meant.

“ Why didn’t you tell me? ”

His voice wavered, and you responded with a hum of confusion. Inviting him in, he closed the door behind you both. His lips tugged down as he searched everywhere for the words to say. Finally, he found them and settled back on you as you were putting things down and unwinding.

“ With Raph! You like him, don’t you?! ”

“ Wha? ”

“ You—You! ”

He seemed frustrated, wracking his brain until finally he threw his hands out and shouted.

“ DO YOU LOVE RAPH MORE BECAUSE HE’S SO BIG?! ”

Silence blanketed you both as you processed his words. Finally, you placed a word on the emotion you always saw in his eyes. Struggling not to laugh at the absurdity, you snorted and shook your head.

“ Jealousy! That’s wh—wait, no, Mikey, no, I don’t ‘Love Raph cause he’s big’ ”

“ Then why do you like him more!? ”

“ Where is this coming from, Mikey, I don’t like Raph like that—I like you. ”

You stepped closer, and Mikey let you in. Your hands reached up, cupping his cheeks, and he leaned into them with such a desperation that you felt bad for finding this whole situation so silly.

“ Just, you always seem so happy when he’s around, and whenever he saves you instead, you always.. ”

His eyes were elsewhere as he spoke, almost as though he were seeing the absurdity in it all now with a clearer mind.

“ Ahh, mhmm, yup, alright so Mikey usually people are very happy when they’re saved from danger—and I mean, I probably look happy cause I’m friends with him too, but I’m dating you, silly. ”

You booped his snoot, smiling as his eyes lit up with the love you were accustomed to seeing them full of.

┆ ── ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — Raph 💌

If there was any one of the brothers full of insecurities, it would come as no surprise as the spotlight shone upon the red turtle, atop the winner’s pedestal. As someone who once led his brothers in the face of battle, who grew up with the elder sibling curse of forced parenthood, it came as no shock that there were a couple of problems sprinkled into his character.

While he had spent much of his life up to this point recovering and healing from what dared chip at his exterior, there was more than a few bits of stubborn grime that lingered on his surface. It ate away at him, leaving behind vulnerabilities.

Then you came along, and throughout the honeymoon period he experienced nothing but delights. Never had the negative Nancy in his brain perked up to talk her shit, misleading him in circles until he was a mess of unbundled, tangled up rope.

You were a light, something that seemed to power wash the grime away, cake over it with your delicate touch and sweet words. Much smaller than he, you were probably one of the kindest humans he met, someone he cherished more than life itself.

And that, in and of itself, was a vulnerability. You were his weakness, and the shrewd dark spots in his brain couldn’t wait for the rose-colored glass to shatter and let them sink their teeth into this beauteous opportunity.

The sensible part of him knew your kindness knew no ends, that it wasn’t limited or excluded to simply him or a select few. In fact, your sweet demeanor shared with his brothers? It was a breath of relief—it was an understatement to say he had been nervous to introduce you to the family. You were okay with him because he saved you, but his brothers and father weren’t present. They hadn’t been the heroes slamming down against concrete, scaring away the silverfish that preyed upon you one fateful night.

Turns out the trash-eaters had a hankering for good food, and you, all alone, on your way back home with a doggy-bag from Cleo’s Beach Shack, served to be the perfect target.

The night had been quiet, albeit suspiciously so, but your full tummy and weary limbs had their guard fully down. You daydreamed of the bed awaiting you at home, arms beckoning you forth with pillowy softness.

That delightful image was disturbed by the sudden rustling and clank you heard from behind. Turning, your eyes shooed away dreamland and were alert. An empty can rolled from a bush, tinking into someone’s trash can at the curb. Not a soul in sight, so surely it must have been one of New York’s infamous rats? Y’know, that creature that is practically extinct in this city, like there’s no way you would ever see them—definitely not at the metro nor the coffee shop, and surely never this residential street with primo rat hot-spots such as unsupervised trash cans full of food waste.

Yeah, of course, must have been a rat. You’re so paranoid, just hurry on home, nothing bad will happen. Nothing bad ever happens to pretty little guys like you, alone on dimly lit streets, lined with houses whose doors are locked to high hell.

Nothing bad, especially not like the cold metal that clamped firmly on your ankle. Never anything as worse as the chilling growl from whatever tripped you up, glaring with red eyes and flicking a long, sharp-looking tail.

“ Oh sh—“

Your voice feebly complained, raising into a scream to the heavens above as it lunged towards you.

Or well, towards your to-go bag, but who’s paying attention to the little things like that when your life is flashing before your eyes?

Thankfully, the end never came. There was the sound of a growling struggle after a tremor shook your shivering frame, and as you opened your eyes to peek at whatever held up your attacker, a silhouette towered over you. He casted a long shadow over you, which should have been intimidating as hell, but instead it left you feeling…

Safer?

In his hand laid two identical buggers, squirming and chomping with animalistic hunger. This had to have been worse than the rats, you’d take the rats any day, at least they weren’t massive.

… well okay, they are, but this is a whole ‘nother level.

The most shocking part was this giant hero taking a step back, assuming the position of a pitcher, and launching the creatures into the distance. There may have been a glint shining, and was that the cheer of an audience you were hearing? No, that was your imagination, obviously.

But you were not imagining this guy in front of you. Much too tall to be human, unless it was some basketball lead who somehow had balls of steel to save a stranger.

Every warning sign imaginable was washed away without a trace as your savior turned around and shot a shaky smile, warm as a summer sun.

“ S-Sorry about that, are ya okay? ”

He spoke with the timidness of someone a fourth his size, and you couldn’t help but be completely charmed to death.

From that day you would see him more and more, to the point that it felt as if maybe he had been appointed your personal body guard. Ah, but, you didn’t really mind, did you? You loved his company and his toothy grins. You adored his warm, gentle hugs, and it was too sweet how you could feel his hands tremble as they held yours ever so delicately.

So yeah, he worried to introduce you to his family, but the way you brightened up the room instantly had him starstruck. You’re perfect, that’s it. That’s the tweet.

The rosey glass shattered after a few lingering months of dating. His insecurities reared their heads, resting sharp grips on his shoulders as they whispered in his ears all kinds of falsities. You liked his brothers, but maybe you liked his brothers? Why else would you be so nice to them?

And, maybe that’s why you were smiling at Leo like that? Raph is right here, so why were you talking to his brother? He couldn’t even focus enough to heard you both holding the most mundane conversation ever about some shop that opened up over on Moore’s. He steeped in the tea of jealousy, filling his senses to the brim with worry.

The worst part about it was that if you liked Leo, he couldn’t even blame you. Leo was like water, while Raph was stone. Raph stood still, he could be bossy at times, while Leo was a spunky little river that would keep you on your toes. Leo was never boring, and he could keep a smile on your face for as long as the day lasted..

But he didn’t want any of that to be true. None of it.

The conversation was stopped by a meek voice asking for your time, attention shifting from Brother Blue to your beloved, clad in what became your favorite color in these past few months.

“ Y/N, can we talk? ”

Ignoring Leo’s nudge and teasing “ ooooooohs ”, you nodded with a smile, following Raph with a pep in your step.

“ Of course, dear. ”

That lead to the silence you currently shared—with him leaning against the wall of his room, gaze fixated on some smudges on the floor. That should be cleaned up, he thought, trying to not think of how you were sat on his bed, awaiting whatever it was he needed off his chest.

“ Raph? ”

You were the first to talk, already well acquainted with your love’s tiptoeing when it came to any sort of conversation that might be unsavory. You watched as he twisted his expression, tightening his lips—whatever it was, it was bothering him profusely, and you couldn’t help the pang gripping your heart..

“ Raph…? ”

Again, your voice seemed weaker this time. That was what gave him the drive to speak, he couldn’t handle leaving you in such a state, he needed to know if these worries of his were dumb!

“ Do you like Leo? ”

“ What. ”

Your response was so fast and curt, the product of being completely taken off guard with a left hook. There were plenty of other ideas you had for the direction of this conversation, such as having beaten his leftovers last week or how you have his favorite hoodie in your laundry basket right now. Maybe even the secret trips to Donnie’s, who was currently helping you get together a gift for Raph’s birthday next month. A particularly low worry even fretted that this might be a conversation about your relationship and how it should end.

But, instead it’s about Leo? What an easy question to answer!

“ Sorry, I didn’t mean that, I mean to say no. ”

Raph’s shoulders loosened and a breath of relief slipped out of him—when had he even started holding his breath?? Never mind that. You snorted at the absurd thought of liking Leo of all people.

“ Why would I like Leo? Raph, c’mere. ”

You held your hands out, and the way his hands fell into yours spelled out a desperation to be close to you. With a gentle tug, he climbed onto his bed, and you melted into his chest. A storm was brewing in his chest, his heart thundering nervously.

“ Ya just, Raph don’t know, something—he, just… Raph was worried, s’all. Afraid ya preferred him over a… ”

While he was searching for whatever word to insult himself with, you captured his attention with a gentle peck on the lips. Your fingers gently held his chin, turning his focus to lay fully on you.

“ Over a charming, handsome hero? ”

There was that adorable smile, peppering his lips as a light laugh erupted from his chest.

“ You think I’d prefer Leo, who is a risky little ticking time bomb, over my knight in shining armor? ”

He whispered a rebuttal, something along the lines of “ he really is, huh? ”

“ Oh Raph-a-doodle, never could I want anyone other than you. ”

Leaning up, you pressed your forehead against his and gazed into his eyes. They searched yours for a hint of deceit, for anything to latch onto and spiral about, but all he found was warmth.

Thus, the jealousy flame died out, and he plummeted backwards against his bed, dragging you down with him. He gave a heavy exhale as you giggled atop his plastron, scolding him for being so silly.

┆ ── ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ — Donnie 💌

The green of jealousy was a hue you never expected to be painted across the purple canvas you called your boyfriend, but surely there is a chance for any reality to blossom true, right?

Jealousy had sewn seeds far before either of you could catch on, oblivious to the roots which spiraled and narrowed vision to see only one option as opposed to the myriad of other reasonings. You had poured love into your dearest Donnie, so much so that you couldn’t even fathom any room for jealousy. How could he ever be jealous? Surely he knows full and well just how you look at him? Obviously he knows just how only he can pluck the strings of your heart, strumming love with each touch, in a way unlike any other.

Why, if you were Excalibur, then he was your King Arthur.

So, yeah, may the gods above forgive you for not considering a jealous Donnie as a reality to worry about—though, is it really too worrying? Your boyfriend being jealous? Kind of interesting, doesn’t it just trip up your heart into a flurry of skips?

No? Just me?

Anyways, you had missed entirely the shifting of his gaze when Mikey would enter the room. The low growl, the holding of his breath, none of it had appeared in your mind as you laughed along with whatever silly antics the youngest brother would get up to. Sometimes you would even entertain him! I mean, he is your boyfriend’s little brother, so it’s only right that you laugh at his jokes, get along with him, and all that good stuff.

But, jealousy was the type to hold someone still, to draw their gaze upon one stiff perspective and allow no other reasoning. For a man of science, even he was not above the laws of insecurity in relationships, so when he saw how bouncy his brother was around you, never did he contemplate the obvious. Nary a thought shall he consider that it was simply his brother getting along with his brother’s girlfriend, nor did he consider maybe you were being nice. No, the sour, bitter green dipped his head in the nastiness of jealousy, and all he could consider in this moment was that you must have liked his brother more.

Or maybe, his brother liked you and intended to steal you away? Why else would you laugh so heartily at whatever nonsense his brother spouted? Whatever reason was there for the times he would find you in the kitchen, fixing up dinner alongside Mikey? What else could explain you returning home with topside art supplies and personalized tips to his youngest brother?

Obviously the jealous mind of Donatello Hamato was going to omit one important factor: you did this with all his brothers. If they told a good joke, you would laugh. If Mikey made dinner, you were guaranteed to be in the kitchen helping by fixing you and Donnie’s plates to your liking. If there was something on the surface any of the brothers needed, you would totally put it on your errand run, delivering it during your next visit.

But, jealousy cares not for easy explanations. It craves the most dramatic interpretations, and in this case?

The juiciest interpretation was that Mikey had set his eyes on you, Donnie’s prized lover, and you had fallen for him hook, line, and sinker.

No, no, no, Donnie says, not on his watch would he let you be swept off your feet by anyone else.

“ Y/N. ”

Donnie leaned forward, fingers firmly locking with yours and giving an urgent tug. There was a thickness layered in his eyes that left Mikey shrinking away, confused as to what he could’ve done wrong.

“ Let’s go,”

Straightening up, he couldn’t help the grin widening on his face in a “ I’ve won ” type of manner. You simply waved to his brother.

“ You haven’t forgotten why you’re here, have you? ”

The look in his eyes caused your heart to skip, unprepared for such a heavy gaze that you hadn’t yet experienced. A nervous smile rose on your expression as you looked anywhere but the face giving you a look that would serve to make you fall even harder.

“ Of course not, Dee. ”

Donnie noted your refusal to eye contact, and instead of assuming it was one of your usual bashful moments caused by yours truly, his thoughts were plagued with theories of Mikey somehow worming his way into the heart Donnie swore was his.

“ Right. ”

He muttered in a curt fashion, leading you both to his lab.

The uncomfortable awkwardness blanketing the atmosphere had not gone unnoticed as you followed him, thumb stroking loving little hearts upon the upside of his palm. Usually he would meet this with a firm squeeze, but you could recognize when your genius had his mind up in the clouds. He wasn’t even paying attention to you, was he?! And to think you came all this way to entertain his experiments, hoping to get a kiss or two, only to be met with unnecessary coldness?

What the heck, man?

“ Prepare to behold the wondrous creations of the genius, Donatello. ”

Whatever stink he had been brewing in just seconds prior had evaporated as he unveiled his newest creation: an air-fryer that could quite literally create anything from thin air.

You tried to ignore the distant shout of the youngest brother, something along the lines of “ Hey! Where’s the air-fryer?! ”

Donnie had not ignored it, nor had he dismissed the stifled laughter from you that he surely knew the cause of. His hands clenched, wrapping into crossed arms as he leaned his weight into the table.

“ Annoyed sigh. ”

While rolling his eyes, he muttered an annotation to the peeved groan slipping his lips. There it was again, you noted with a narrowed gaze, that odd discontentment he’d been soaking in this night.

“ Alright, spill it. ”

You mirrored his lean, relying on one of the structural pillars in his lab to hold your weight. Your fingers thumped impatiently against your bicep as your eyes soaked in Donnie’s body language. He seemed to stiffen, either nervously or defensively, you didn’t know.

“ Spill what? ”

He spoke with such an accusatory tone that you were almost ticked off. You held your tongue, hoping to keep this civil and not devolving into mindless argument.

“ Spill wh—?! ”

Sputtering, your hands gestured wildly before quite literally framing him. He knew what you meant, he wasn’t dumb!

“ Whatever is making you so, so—so THIS! ”

His brow raised, and he almost seemed insulted as you threw your hands up with a frustrated growl.

“ Why are you so upset with me right now? What did I do? ”

That seemed to do the charm of dragging out what you’ve been looking for, the explanation, as he straightened his posture and pushed off the table.

“ Oh save me the innocent act, Y/N,”

Confusion painted your face, and for a moment he physically faltered, unsure to continue after such a clear display of hurt across your pretty face. After a second, his mouth tugged into a frown, shaking off the hesitation to continue his claim,

“ I know you like Mikey, so just do us both a favor and go scurry along after him. ”

Donnie waved his hand off, pointing to the door. Whatever look you had on your face at that moment must have embodied just how deeply the pain in your heart crawled, right on down to your very core, because he seemed to balk at his own words. A bit of regret wrapped around him as he muttered something too low for you to hear.

Tightening your lips, you straightened this time and took a few steps to close the gap between you and him.

“ You will not talk to me like that, and what’s this about me liking Mikey? Your little brother? ME? You think I like him?! ”

There was no way, right? He couldn’t be serious? You, liking Mi—he might as well have been your brother too! You could never like him over Donnie?! What an outrageous claim, you thought, standing your ground in front of Donnie. This could have been avoided if he had just not been such, such a…

“ Obviously! Why else would you be bringing him gifts and helping him out in the kitchen? ”

You opened your mouth to speak, only to be interrupted as he continued with an accusatory finger pointing no where specific.

“ And I’ll have you know that I have read about ‘Cooking together’ and I know how much of an intimate bonding experience it is! ”

The childish stomp he gave, throwing his fists against his sides stiffly, served to diminish almost all the frustration bubbling up. You snorted at the sight, causing him to loosen up, confusedly tripping over his words to sputter out a “ Wh-What, what is this, what’s so funny? ”

“ … You’re a riot, Dee. ”

Wiping away the tiny tears pricking from such a hearty laugh, your eyes met his with less of anger and more of the warmth he was far too familiar of.

“ Since apparently I’m the only one of us with some sense, I’ll have YOU know that I do that for all of y’all! ”

Sheepishly, he seemed to curl into himself as you poked your index finger right into his plastron to emphasize the “ you ”.

“ I bring you gifts all the time—April, Raph, Leo, hell, even Splinter, too! ”

Jealousy was starting to burn away, leaving behind the bashful shame as he started to finally contemplate the more reasonable explanations for your behavior. Silently he condemned himself for starting up this whole dumb debacle with such a blatant disregard to the facts.

“ And of COURSE I help Mikey with cooking. You have a specific palette that he doesn’t always remember fully, so it’s up to me to make sure you get a fulfilling meal you’ll actually eat, dummy! ”

Ah, now that was the part that did him in, something he didn’t even know. Just as you were going to continue, he stepped closer.

“ Wait, you do? ”

“ I do—do what? I said a lot of things, Donnie, be specific. ”

Derailed, you stumbled over your claims, lost suddenly at which point he had cling to.

“ I thought Michael was just inconsistent in his preparation of my dishes, but since you say that, I do recall my meals being much better when you were around. ”

His hands had found their way upon your shoulders as he spoke, gaze flitting all across the lab as he collected his thoughts.

“ I had suspected meals were just better when you were around because, well.. ”

You softened as his gaze fell onto you.

“ Because you were there.. ”

Silence fell upon you both, except more comfortably this time. He exhaled deeply, marked with his trademark “ relieved sigh ” then smiled at you.

“ Oh Y/N, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to drag you into such a ridiculous argument. I was just… ”

“ You were just… Jealous? ”

Your teasing gaze was searing through him, so much so he shut his eyes tightly and groaned annoyedly.

“ As much as I would wish to not admit it, yes. I may have been experiencing,”

He waved his hand in the air, as if collecting his words.

“ Jealousy, towards your interactions with Miguel.. ”

Donnie was relieved as you laughed away all his worries, leaning in to plant a kiss on his lips. The moment lingered for a few, as if desperately needed to mend this situation, stopping only when you pulled away.

“ Alright, you’re forgiven… For now—BUT! Next time just talk to me, dummy, you got me all riled up for no reason. ”

With that, you gave a playful shove that had him gasping as though he were insulted, and quick to rush to his experiment’s side with more questions than he could keep up with.

Not like he hated an attentive and questioning audience, though. Much appreciated.

#Donnie x reader #Donatello x reader #Leo x reader #Leonardo x reader #Mikey x reader #Michelangelo x reader #Raph x reader #Raphael x reader #rise x reader #tmnt x reader #rottmnt x reader #rise tmnt x reader #rise donnie x reader #rise donatello x reader #rise leo x reader #rise leonardo x reader #rise mikey x reader #rise michelangelo x reader #rise raph x reader #rise Raphael x reader #rottmnt donatello x reader #rottmnt donnie x reader #rottmnt raphael x reader #rottmnt raph x reader #rottmnt leonardo x reader #rottmnt leo x reader #rottmnt mikey x reader #rottmnt michelangelo x reader #rise tmnt donnie x reader #rise tmnt donatello x reader

[cosmiiwrites]

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ lovebirds

·:¨༺ clingy!sinner! adam x clingy!sinner!fem!reader ༻¨:·

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ req/summary: PLS clingy!sinner!adam and clingy!fem!sinner!reader where Adam reincarnated in Hell and went to the Hotel for help and ended up falling in love with Reader and they just CAN’T STAY AWAY FROM EACH OTHER. Like, a concerning amount of PDA. Completely smitten, love-braindead, absolute lovebirds 😩. To the point where the other guests can’t stand them. If you don’t want to it’s okay! love your content 🥹 cw: fem!reader, cussing, fluff, partially suggestive a/n: accidently posted this in the middle of writing so i had to restart :') sorry this is also kind of late 😞 @callmerainman ty for the request <33 adam was fuming, he'd spawned in the place he swore he hated! he was stuck with all the filthy demons and sinners whom he'd used to slaughter. now he was one of them. disgusting, he thought. adam was left with one choice: the hazbin hotel. "fucking damn it." when he appeared outside the hotel’s doors, everyone (mostly vaggie) was urging charlie to turn him away. however, charlie being charlie, gave him a chance. why wouldnt she? this hotel was all about second chances!

adam definitely flipped vaggie off behind charlie’s back

at first, adam thought the hotel was boring; they had strict rules, most of which applied to him.

that is, until he set eyes on you. suddenly, he found himself actually wanting to participate in charlie’s “stupid therapy group shit” as adam would call it, because it meant that he’d be near you.

luckily for adam, you felt the same way. it wasn’t long before the both of you started dating.

and, oh boy, did you two make it clear.

you and adam were on each other 25/8, doesnt matter where or when.

wherever you were, adam was never far behind. (yes, that includes the bathroom. what did you expect?)

adam once tried convincing charlie to let you two just share a room, but she had to reject the idea. in the nicest way possible, of course.

“listen, adam, i LOVE how you and (name) are so close! but, um, i’d prefer if you two stayed in your separate rooms. everyone knows how… passionate you are together.”

poor charlie.

husk has had to kick you two out of the bar from time to time, after catching you with adam’s tongue down your throat in front of him. even angel dust, whose whole personality is being horny, gets grossed out by the both of you sometimes.

not to mention the PDA. adam had his hands on you. all. the. time. most of the time, he’d have his hand snaked around your waist while walking. or when sitting down, adam would have you on his lap.

if he feels like someone is talking to you for too long, he’d start making out with you on the spot to get them to walk away, partially traumatized.

you and adam are also embarrassingly cheesy. this includes nicknames.

charlie’s tried to sit you both down to talk about your behavior, but it was awkward when adam had you sat down on his lap, rubbing teasing circles on your thigh. she’d tried talking but her words were cut off by the sounds of your giggles. with a sigh, she gave up and let you two be.

———————————————————————

“i love you more!” you giggled, sitting on adam’s lap as you playfully pinched his cheek.

“no, i love YOU more,”

“nuh uh, i love—“

“OH MY FUCKING GOD. SHUT THE FUCK UP,” yeah, vaggie’s so done with you guys.

#hazbin hotel x reader #adam x reader #hazbin hotel #adam hazbin #adam hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel alastor #charlie morningstar #emily hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel fluff #angel dust #sir pentious #vaggie

[onlyswan]

summary: in which jungkook wants you all for himself (and bam) and you buy him flowers.

> fluff, a little angst / wc: 2.8k

> warnings: jk gets pissed off at a guy who tries hitting on you T_T, making out!!

note: i couldn’t resist and here i am with the post-jungkook live effect [deep sigh] as always i hope you enjoy and i also hope you let me know if you did <333

—

standing infront of the door of your apartment, you struggle to unlock it with your fingerprint because of the paper bag you’re hugging to your chest and the small bouquet of red roses occupying your other hand. in the end, you decide to put down the paper bag on the cold tiled floor. you press your index finger on the rectangular pad above the numbers before turning the doorknob.

the familiar ringing of the door opening and closing make jungkook and bam comically perk up at the same time. the dog stands up by resting his front legs on the backrest of the sofa, tail excitedly wagging as he anticipates your arrival in the living room.

“hello, baby. i’m home.” you sweetly hum as you pad across the floor with your feet only clad in white socks after lazily leaving your shoes by the doormat.

jungkook isn’t even sure if you meant ‘baby’ as in him or bam, but that thought shortly gets pushed to the back of his mind when his confused doe eyes zoom in on the flowers you’re securely cradling.

relieving yourself of its weight, you finally set down the paper bag from the convenience store, sliding your phone out of the pocket of your sweatpants to leave it on top of the center table as well. bam jumps off the sofa sniffing loudly at the flowers, but you quickly raise your arm to put it out of his reach.

“no- no, bamie. you can’t eat this! this is for your daddy.” you tell him with a giggle, digging your hand into the paper bag to dish out the new toy you bought him.

“for me?” your boyfriend chips in to the conversation with a toothy grin, but his question is left unanswered as you squeeze the yellow fish to make it squeak.

the high-pitched sound makes bam hyper. he stretches out his front legs forward, leaning down on his elbows — a posture that usually indicates that he wants to play. you throw the toy into the air and it lands near his house. he runs after it not even a second later, nails clicking against the floor. he carries it in his mouth and jumps on the other corner of the couch, living in his own little bubble to chew to his heart’s desire.

jungkook steals this opportunity to snake an arm around your waist, pulling you down to the open space next to him. you whimper in surprise as you fall on top of the bundle of blanket he abandoned, lifting your butt quickly to remove it from under you. bam inches closer to snuggle against the soft cotton, ears abruptly moving in curiosity when he successfully makes the toy squeak too.

“where are these from, huh? was someone trying to steal you away from me again?”

they almost make you instantaneously melt — his deep voice laced with half humor and half truth of bitterness, accompanied by a soft squeeze of your hip.

“babe!” you scold him with a laugh to mask how flustered you’ve become, as if you’re still not used to his flirting after all these years. “i passed by a flower shop on the way home and i thought i should be the one to buy them for you for a change.”

you extend the hand holding the bouquet, eyes twinkling with devotion that causes his resolve to crumble into ruins. it never stood a chance in the first place.

—

you walked away from the cashier while stuffing the book you just bought inside your tote bag, the man you strongly refused to allow and pay for it still hot on your heels.

“wait! i’m sorry. let me just- uh-”

you froze awkwardly before the lean and blonde stranger who blocked your path to the door, probably standing somewhere around 5’10. based on his complete nike get-up, you were pretty sure he was outside for an afternoon jog.

“i just wanted to let you know that i think you’re very beautiful, and maybe ask if we can hang out this weekend? at my place?”

and you could tell he was trying his best to appear confident, but the shaky hand that was holding out the bouquet of fresh tulips betrayed him. it was the first time in your life that you found your favorite flowers to be undesirable, no matter how perfectly and intricately arranged the beautiful colors were.

‘at my place?’ what the hell happened to chivalry? oh, a lost art indeed.

despite being extremely irritated at him for causing an embarrassing scene infront of the cashier earlier in addition to this, you forced yourself to give him an apologetic smile for the sake of being polite.

that was when jungkook came back after buying two cups of hotteok from a cart only half a block away. his walking pace slowed down as he watched the scene unfold through the glass separating the bookstore from the sidewalk, eyebrows knitting in growing confusion and annoyance. he failed to read your lips while you were talking. by then he was already prepared to join the conversation, even more after he realized that he recognized the man.

however, before he could reach the door, you were already pushing it open. the gush of wind blew through your hair, and your face lit up when you were greeted by the sight of your boyfriend holding your favorite snack. with a thrilled smile, you practically skipped your way to him and took the cup from his left hand.

“you got them! the line was pretty long so i thought they would sell out before your tur-”

your smile slowly faded when you realized he wasn’t listening. jungkook’s eyes were too busy shooting daggers at the stranger walking to the trash can, jaw clenching when he saw how aggressively he slammed down your dearly beloved flowers. he was the only one to notice the lone orange tulip that slipped and fell on the ground, firmly rejected and thoughtlessly discarded.

your warm hand held his cheek, gently coaxing him to look at you instead.

“what did he say? did he touch you?”

it’s very rare to see jungkook this seriously angry. therefore, you are only reminded at times like this that he can be scary if he wants to. at first, you thought his protectiveness would only last until the early stages of your relationship and eventually fade like those who came before him, but he never changed.

you shook your head, rubbing his arm in an attempt to soothe his temper. “no, not at all. he was kind of stubborn but i handled it just fine.”

he only nodded in response, features still hardened, but relief washed over him after confirming that nothing dangerous happened to you while he was gone. but he was swept off his feet before his mind could run for another mile. you pulled him closer by the collar of his shirt, the torrid kiss you granted him with lasting seconds. insatiably craving more of your ministrations, he made a move to chase your lips, but a rude car honk jolted him awake to the fact that you were still in public.

you gave him a coy smile. “want to eat ramen with me at home? i’m getting cold.”

“let’s go home, baby.” he hummed in agreement. “i’ll warm you up.” he hung his tattooed arm over your shoulder, guiding you to his other side to put himself between you and the rushing vehicles passing by.

he spared another sharp glance at the bookstore before walking away. he met the eyes of the asshole who has been indiscreetly observing you still regardless of the disaster that just transpired. he panicked at the interaction and turned on his heel, disappearing into the fiction aisle.

jungkook smirked, shaking his head in disdain before taking the first bite off his hotteok.

—

walking didn’t seem to help shake off his inflexible thoughts.

“something still bothers me about that guy.” he mumbled after tossing your empty cups in the trash bin you passed by.

“what is it?” you frowned worriedly, intertwining your fingers with his. by this time the glorious sun has started to set, splashing the sky with light orange paint that reflected on his honey skin.

“he was already there when we went in the bookstore. i know he saw us holding hands. i’m obviously your boyfriend.” vexation continued to run in his veins until it dripped from his tongue. his satoori accent came out thick and heavy as he spoke with wide, expressive eyes. “and he still had the fucking audacity to go out and buy you flowers?”

your lips parted open in surprise, tilting your head to the side as you tried to recall the surroundings when you entered the establishment earlier. no wonder he was instantly upset and worried.

“i don’t remember seeing him . . . but you know, if he’s as brazen as you think he is, why did he only approach me when you left?”

your stream of thoughts got interrupted by a scandalous gasp when you arrived at a new angle of looking at the situation.

“he invited me to his place.” you halted on your tracks, glaring back at your previous location. you were already five blocks away from the bookstore, and you wish he could magically feel the negative energy you were exuding from the distance. “so did he really think i’m that kind of-”

you instinctively pulled back your boyfriend by tightly grabbing the sleeve of his jacket. “hey! where are you going?”

his jaw clenched, tongue prodding the inside of his cheek — telltale signs that he was unquestionably pissed off. “baby, i won’t let that one slide.”

alright, this is not good. not good at all. perhaps you should start learning how to stop saying your thoughts out loud.

“but he’s not worth the time.” you pouted sadly, wrapping your arms around his waist so he wouldn’t be able to walk away. “i just want to go home and cuddle with you and our child while watching the new chainsaw man e-p.”

he breathed out a sigh to compose himself. the proposition you laid out was undeniably irresistible, albeit a bait of distraction. but he knew you were just keeping him in check before he impulsively acts again. he gave your forehead a chaste kiss, honeyed lips a little sticky from the sugar syrup of the hotteok filling.

“okay then. let’s do that.”

—

“are you still annoyed about yesterday?” you poke his soft cheek with your index finger. “hey, look at this. i got six red roses for a reason . . . you are my one and only.”

you point at each flower as you slowly speak the sentence word by word, and his heart overflows with fondness as he watches. when you innocently look up to meet his gaze with a hopeful smile, saying the words- “i would’ve gotten you a fancier arrangement but i don’t want your allergies acting up.”

that is his final straw.

“shit, baby. why are you so damn cute? what am i going to do with you?” he accepts the bouquet with a lighthearted chuckle, setting it down on the table before attacking you with his affection.

you end up falling on your back as he climbs over you. you giggle uncontrollably when he holds your wrists and traps your thighs in between his knees anchored on the cushion, tirelessly peppering your face and neck with love-fueled kisses.

the noisy disturbance distracts bam from his squeaky yellow fish. he jumps off the couch to stand beside you and jungkook, licking at whatever his tongue reaches. for you, it’s your arm held folded by your boyfriend.

“it tickles! you know it tickles there!” you squeal, squirming beneath him. you feel his frisky lips curve into a smile against the left side of your neck, stubbornly planting more kisses on the expanse of your skin.

“mhmm, i love you. i love you.” he hazily chants, drunk in love, tracing his way back to your lips. “i love you so much.”

that’s when he decides he’s finished with innocent pecks, delicate hands releasing your wrists to properly balance himself on top of you. you tenderly caress his face as he deepens the kiss, coaxing you to part your lips so he can dip his playful tongue in your mouth. when he tilts his head to the side so his nose won’t bump against yours, your hand slides to the back to support it, fingers tangling with his long and fluffy hair. a desperate, filthy moan escapes from his throat as you unconsciously tug, prompted by his soft nibbling at your bottom lip. it sends tingles running through your spine like live wire, and the air engulfing the two of you becomes hotter and heavier.

he parts away from you breathless, resting his forehead on yours before pulling himself up again. “fuck. is this how you feel when i buy you flowers?”

you gingerly brush his undereye with the pad of your thumb, finding yourself deeply fascinated with his dilated pupils staring right back at you.

you lick your swollen lips, front teeth digging on your bottom lip. “i should’ve done it sooner, right? i’m sorry.”

“don’t be. you already give me so much, silly.” he softly pecks your lips again. “besides, your presence is my favorite gift. you’re a blessing to me, you know that?”

you smile shyly, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. his random confessions of overwhelmingly sincere adoration never fails to elicit a giddy reaction from you. “i love you.”

“ah- ouch.” a wince shortly replaces your smile when bam jumps on the couch again, accidentally stepping on your hair.

“bam, sit, sit. sit down.” jungkook rises to kneel on his knees, moving forward until they reach your waist. bam obeys his command, and your hands find purchase on the flesh of his thighs as he releases your hair from under the dog’s paws.

“i’ll go put the flowers in the vase.” he cheerfully announces as he cautiously removes himself on top of you, planting his feet on the ground.

“okaaay.” you drag out the word as you sit up on the couch. while he takes the bouquet of roses with him to the kitchen, bam finally finds the chance to leave the toy on your lap, but not before he gives it a good bite to make it squeak.

you pet his long floppy ears as he licks your cheek and then your hands, urging you to play with him using the gift you bought him. you press quick kisses on the top of his head before squeezing the yellow fish, waving it infront of his face.

“do you want to play, bamie? should we? will you bring it back to me?”

he starts panting as if to answer ‘yes’ to all of your questions.

you throw the toy at the kitchen, and you cover your mouth out of reflex to suppress your laughter when it landed on the dining table, only a few inches away from jungkook. he pauses from plucking off the leaves from the stem of each rose, jokingly raising an eyebrow at bam, who is balancing himself standing up by using his body as a support.

he picks up the toy and dangles it above bam, speaking to him in a baby voice. “is this what you’re looking for? aw, really? you want it? go take it then . . . that’s it, good boy!”

bam easily catches it with his mouth, running back to you so he can complete the mission you gave him. he drops it on your lap again, bumping his nose against yours, and you dramatically collapse on the couch. he starts sniffing at you curiously, front paw poking your shoulder once to gauge your reaction.

your eyes only open half-way, and you spread out your arms to show him the space you created for him. “bam, i’m sleepy- sleep. i need to recharge. can we play again later?”

he lies down on his back and uses your arm as a pillow, rolling around for a bit until he chooses to curl up beside you in the end, his upper body resting on your stomach.

“ugh, you’re so heavy. can’t. breathe.” you mutter under your breath, but nevertheless, you stroke his side lovingly until you both completely doze off for an afternoon nap.

jungkook squints at the living room when the apartment got suspiciously quiet, lips forming a pout.

“are you two cuddling? i still need to trim the stems- save me some space!”

—

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#jungkook #jungkook drabble #jungkook fluff #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook one shot #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #bts reaction #bts fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook smut

[teyamsilly]

dark red

pairing: neteyam x metkayina! reader

tags & warning: arguments, short tempered reader, soft spoken neteyam, neteyam has emotional intelligence, a bit angst

summary: neteyam missed your dates four times in a row because of his ikinimiya training— that he insisted on having because your father wants yourself a mate who's done ikinimiya the metkayina way. you brushed it off, but when you saw him smiling at another girl at the time your date is supposed to happen, you snapped.

index paskalin - honey

word count 1.2k words

a/n posting this at midnight and half asleep because i suddeny had an idea 💪🏻

Sighing, you gently took off the shells Tsireya attached to your hair for decoration. The top you wore was especially meant for special occasions. You wanted to appear nice for Neteyam since you spent shorter and shorter periods with him.

This was the fourth date that he couldn't come to, and he sent Lo'ak to tell you. Neteyam told you the first time that he was preoccupied with last-minute training. He told you the same thing the second time. However, on the third occasion, Kiri informed you that he had been engrossed in training yet again. And it was his brother this time.

Something bad is 'bout to happen to me

I don't know it, but I feel it coming

Neteyam would be so worn out thereafter that he would immediately fall asleep. You sympathise with what he's going through because you've been there yourself. Complaining made you feel insensitive and unreasonable, also he was doing this for you. It never felt right to voice your concerns about the amount of time you're spending together lately.

But you miss him so much. The warm touch of his skin against yours, his lips pressing against yours, and his warm smile that never fails to make you fall for him all over again.

You huffed, deciding to meet him halfway when he goes home and give him the longest hug, because it finally hit you: you missed him too much.

You left your marui, feeling the net dipping slightly at each step you took. However, you stopped your movement when your ears twitched at a particular sound.

Neteyam's voice.

You peered ahead, brows pinched together, as his figure approached. He wasn't alone, though. He was with a girl you knew. Ila'yu was one of the best hunters in the clan. She's strong and bold. The two of you trained together and completed ikinimiya at the same age, there was no competition whatsoever.

Yet you cant help but feel possessive.

Ila'yu said something, making gestures as she did so, and Neteyam broke out a laugh. They didn't notice your presence until they were five feet away from you.

Might be so sad, might leave my nose running

I just hope she don't wanna leave me

Neteyam's eyes brightened up at the sight of you, oblivious to your harsh demeanour. Ila'yu noted your expression and remained firm on her spot as he approached you happily.

"I will see you tomorrow, Neteyam," says Ila'yu. She sent a nod towards your way, but you didn't return it.

He nodded, and grinned, "Thank you for today."

Once she was gone, Neteyam looked back at you with every intent to put all of his attention on you. He cupped your face with his rough hands, thumbs carressing your cheeks softly. "I haven't seen you in a while, paskalin." The boy leaned in for a kiss, but you pulled away and left him there standing, dumbfounded.

Neteyam was stumped. He was processing what had just occurred and began to recount all of the things he had done to you that would have hurt you. His sole thought was that he had missed another date, so he rushed inside your marui.

You were fuming, ears pinned against your head. You looked so much like your mother, it intimidated him a bit.

"What was that?" you seethed.

"What was what, paskalin?" he asked softly, stepping closer to you but you walked farther away from him. 

"What were you doing with her?"

Neteyam attempted to hold your hand, but you just slapped his hand away. "She assisted me with training. Your father couldn't observe the people in training, so he assigned her to teach us. Nothing happened," he explained.

You scoffed, "And you just happen to walk home together?"

"She accompanied me-"

"Right."

"Paskalin," he exhaled gently.

"We haven't spent time together anymore, and I was fine with it because you had training. Each time, I asked for Kiri and Tsireya's opinions on what to wear because you work so hard. And then I see you with her? Are you fucking kidding me?" you raised your voice. "You two look so happy together, must be nice to spend some time together! Oh, why don't we invite her to our mat? She can sleep with-"

Neteyam pursed his lips, exhaustion setting in. He knew that he had neglected you for a while within reason, but it still felt wrong. Every time he tried to make amends with you, something would get in the way. With your ferocious outburst, he wondered how long you'd kept to yourself.

Don't you give me up, please don't give up

Honey, I belong with you, and only you, baby

"Paskalin," he cut you off with the same gentle tone. "I don't want to argue with you. You're angry, I understand. But I don't want us to speak to each other like this. Why don't we take the moment to calm ourselves and then we talk about it?"

You blinked when he responded softly. He didn't appear upset or enraged, but simply patient. Neteyam interpreted your silence as agreement and gently grasped your hand in his. You couldn't deny the butterflies bursting in your stomach.

Neteyam sat down with crossed legs, and you followd his actions hesitantly. His thumb brushed the top of your hand delicately. You forced yourself to look away and focused your glare on the ocean, your lips slightly pouting.

You were so stubborn, and that's what Neteyam found about you so endearing. You're driven and hold yourself with confidence.

After a while, Neteyam noticed that you looked more relaxed than you were earlier. "Are you ready to talk?" he asked carefully.

You sighed, "I just… I miss you 'teyam. It feels like everyone sees you more than I do lately, and I don't like that. I know I sound selfish and ungrateful, but that's how I feel. Then when I saw her, I just snapped."

"Paskalin, I promise you that she's only been nothing, but a good friend to me. She gives me tips about my ikinimiya because she knows how much I want to be with you. If I knew it would bother you this much, I would have put my distance a bit. I'm so sorry for missing our dates, and that you had to feel this way. It was never my intention."

Only you, my girl, only you, babe

Only you, my girl, only you, babe

Tears welled up in your eyes. Now, you feel stupid.

"Please don't apologise, yawne. I'm sorry for yelling. I'm not angry or jealous that you were with her, I just felt really sad." You leaned closer, and pecked his cheek. "I feel foolish now for shouting."

Neteyam shook his head and brought your face closer to his, pressing his lips against yours. You sat on his lap and locked your legs together at his back, arms snaking around his neck. He deepened the kiss, before he pulled away.

You whined at the loss of contact.

"Don't feel foolish, my love. I'm glad that you told me this even if it wasn't in the way I expected it to be." He stared deeply into your blue eyes. "Is the problem resolved now?"

"Definitely." 

You pulled him for another kiss, and Neteyam couldn't help but chuckle against your lips for how needy you are. But he was just the same, maybe even worse.

He wouldn't want it any other way.

support banner by @cafekitsune <3

#avatar fanfiction #avatar the way of water #avatar twow #neteyam fanfiction #neteyam fluff #neteyam x reader #neteyam x you #neteyam imagine #fluff #neteyam x metkayina!reader

[fillinforlater]

Two Selfies and a GIF

Male Reader x Naoi Rei

Length: 2341 words

Tags: lovers on vacation, teasing and tempting, public sex, blowjob, overstimulation, face fuck, gagging, standing sex, anal, sweat, body appreciation, anal creampie, thrill of maybe getting caught

TW: sex in a public space, also barely any editing

Inspiration: an ask from quite some time ago

(A/N: I hope this fic makes you say Holy Moly. @writerpeach because he wanted another Rei piece lol)

“Another sunny day! <3 Hope to see you all soon~”

You jump from your bed. Most of the time, you have no clue where the feeling of deja vu comes from, but this one is still palpable. A year ago, you were on vacation with Rei on some warm, small island nation, blessed with endless sunshine and she sent a similar selfie with a similar caption. Her hair was still brown back then, if your memory serves you right. 

Unlike last time however, you can’t dig straight into her cute pussy. Rei is not on the bed beside you, although that’s where she took the picture. In fact, she’s not even in the hotel room anymore. You check the washroom a final time before looking back down on your phone.

“Where are you?”

“By~ the~ pool~”

The phone has yet to disappear in the pockets of your shorts when you’ve already stormed out of the empty hotel room and towards the elevators. Alright, she said something about going to the pool, you remember, but you didn’t even notice that she took the selfie earlier. Hopefully this won’t end in a chase of never ending teases because you missed the moment she was horny and right next to you. 

You jump out of the elevator and across the lobby, both staff and visitors confused by your hurried, hectic behavior given the calm, vacation atmosphere. Your urgent need to feel your girlfriend's body, to see that face, adorned by beautiful blonde hair, with thick lips and a lewd glint in her eyes, it’s easily overtaking your desire of being perceived as normal. 

“By the pool isn’t accurate enough,” you puff and pant while your eyes go over the many, many pools and parasols and people. It seems Rei isn’t in the water or on one of the loungers, so you once again reach for your phone—just to be greeted by a couple of private messages.

“Still need you to fill these cheeks~ or did you mean my other cheeks?!”

The wink, the tongue bite, the v-pose. She can never post this picture or else all those horny fanboys would blow infinite loads to it (not like they aren’t already doing it; don’t kid yourself). It’s sexy, tempting, only meant for you. You know what she wants, what she needs, what you promised her, yet she continues to play with you.

Until suddenly, another message. A third selfie? Even better.

“I hope you remember where this is~”

The changing booths by the pool. The unmistakable brown walls and baby blue curtains. Rei has complained about their design choice on the day of your arrival, now she’s there doing tik-tok-instagram-dance-challenge-thingys, flaunting what you’ve been craving. Needless to say you sprint there as fast as possible, disregarding all the warning signs about slipper tiles or blissfully ignorant tourists. 

You’re on your way to bliss, and nothing will stop you.

Rei sticks out among the few people in the area. Her tall figure, her blonde hair, not a second later and you get a hold on her shoulders and drag her into the next booth. The Japanese girl doesn’t even seem fazed. 

“There you are,” she sultrily says, eyes on yours through the mirror wall. Good heavens, you forgot about that thing. It’s going to be so much fun. With a single swoop you close the curtain and take a closer look at Rei’s fuckable body through the mirror.

“You look to good not to fuck,” you groan and pinch her cheeks, looking at her duckface, mesmerized by how plump her lips are, how good they will feel. Rei winks again and your hand is already past the waistband of your shorts. “Get on your knees, now.”

Rei’s smile is horny when she pulls down your shorts while getting on eye level with your cock, which jumps free and barely, sadly misses her face with the removal of your briefs. Rei spits in her hand and pumps you, focused on every inch of your hot rod. Suddenly, before any annoyance can urge you to do it yourself, she puts you on her lips. A heavy push that sends you back against the wall later, you're inside her and have to bite a lip to not groan out every profanity known to mankind. 

Feel her tongue swirl around your cockhead while an expression of determination forms on her face. You can see that she is already planning ahead on how to make this the best head she’s ever given you. Rei has an amazing bitch face, but it also fills you with thread. You have to surrender to her mouth, her lips, her tongue—now her hands that grab your hips and then—

“Oh, fuck, ouh fuck!”

Rei slams her head back and forth, your cock going in and out almost fully with every single repetition, while she gags and slobbers on every centimeter she forces into herself. A bizarre thing, face fucking herself on you, for your pleasure, yet you are about to wince for mercy. Rei’s mouth is perfect, but it’s all too fast, without warning she grinds the top, then the back of her tongue on your sensitive slit. You leak, you hiss, you struggle to stand or think.

“Re-Rei, t-too much, fuck.”

Rei pops you free from her lips, but they look eager to go back to it and apply even more pressure on your cock. She firmly holds the base of your dick and glares at you.

“Then do it yourself, pussy. Fill my cheeks already.”

It’s like she’s given you the controller to a video game back; though this is vastly superior than anything you have ever played. You pull at her hair, force her to cry out before flailing backwards against the opposite wall of the booth. This time you lay your cock on her lips on your own merit. 

“I’ll make you take that back.”

Pry her slutty mouth open, hope she is ready for impact and make her entire body convulse when you slam your pelvis into her face. The feeling of her tight, gagging throat is a lot different when you're in control, not better, not worse, though you like that Rei can take your roughness so well.

You close your eyes and begin to thrust, rarely giving her time to breathe, never giving yourself time to rest. The generously wet expedition into Rei's throat both feels like finding something new and being at home. A familiar warm feeling and alien sounds, your girlfriend's deepthroats are one of a kind.

Rei is opportunistic, her tongue now out of her mouth, receiving hits by your balls as you continue to fuck her face. It's one of those days apparently, when she is for some damn reason completely enamored with your sac. Maybe she likes the hisses that escape your lips because of the extra stimulation, maybe she is just impatient and wants what's inside of them.

When her already generously big and round cheeks are the biggest and roundest, you finally pull out and let her cough out the pool of saliva, two smaller pools underneath her eyes are also letting loose. You smack her purple-blue lips with your stiff length.

"I thought you could take it," you laugh at a set of coughs by Rei.

"I, hng, thought you'd fill my cheeks.

"Loser."

"Okay, get up."

Cheeky grin on her lips, Rei pushes herself off the ground and you push up something of your own, her tight crop top. You struggle to get the white fabric over her bountiful tits, but she is quick to help you by stretching out her arms high in the air. After a couple of tugs, you see the two massive melons bounce freely—or not. Two laughably tiny patches of silk, connected to each other and Rei’s neck form a bikini that is definitely too sexy for this pool, for any pool. 

“You really wanted to go out there wearing this?” you question, a finger already hooked in one of the patches.

“No, that’s why I’m still here~”

“Then it’s confiscated.”

A single pull and the bikini top falls off as if spider webs held it together. Now they are free, Rei’s magnificent melons, round like her cheeks, soft like her thighs, the nipples stiff like you. Before you give them a squeeze however, you surprise your girlfriend by roughly yanking up her skirt to above her hips. Rei yelps and loses her balance, but one of her hands finds safety on the mirror, mirror on the wall.

“Very unlike you to not go straight for my chest,” Rei teases, her voice still stable though her stand becomes a lot less stable when you get behind her and plant her firmly in front of the mirror. Now she needs both hands to not fall over with how you manhandle her light yet astoundingly thick frame. 

“They will get enough appreciation later.” Put emphasis on these words by nibbling her ear. She trembles in excitement.”I want to hear you say it again.”

“Say what again?” Rei once more teases, as you hook a finger into the flimsy excuse of a thong she’d call a stylish bikini, ready to reveal both her aroused entrances. “Oh, that. 

“I need you to fill my ass cheeks with your sticky load, pretty please.”

So fake, so lewd, yet so incomparably preposterous. The moment her bikini bottom falls down her long legs, Rei presses her bottom against your cock and it takes barely any effort for you to get it inside her. Talking about bottom, you're close to bottoming out, but Rei’s cute yet also growling cry has you scrambling to find something to gag her. You’re still in public, she can’t be that loud. All you find is the pathetic bikini, which you shove into her pretty little mouth. 

“I’m going to fuck you good, but keep it down,” you groan into her ear and give in to the risky, yet irresistible desire to plow her ass. Rei is trying her best, munching and soaking the green in her mouth rather than screaming out your name. You’ll buy her a new, better bikini after this anyways. If she’d ran around in that thing for more than a minute, then you’d need to fuck her the rest of your vacation and that would be—wait, would you even mind that?

You’d do it like this all day long, her wrists in your grasp, her body slightly tilted towards the mirror while you watch her tits bounce with every thrust into her tight back entrance. Rei is at your mercy, only upright because you want to. Each inch you pull out has her scrambling for footing, but you gladly give them back to her, into her, to the point where exactly this has her knees buckling. 

“Fuck you’re so… suffocating,” you mumble, the heat from your crotch spread up to your head long ago. The same goes for Rei: a hand on her freely jumping tits confirms it. Her eyes roll into the back of her head when you roll a nipple in between two lazy fingers. It’s not much, but you swear it made her even tighter and less stable. 

You lift a leg of hers, feel the sweaty meat of her full thigh make your hand sink deep. It reminds you of a pillow, a comfortable bed—now a waterbed because her orgasm is wet. Rei surrenders her beautiful back onto your chest, eyes closed, mouth ready to voice her pleasure but she has to keep it shut. Outside are people, laughing, gossiping, going about their lives. And in here, you recklessly pound in the still sensitive Rei.

It’s incredible how she still relaxes around you, how easy it is to fill her with a girthy cock. Honest to God, it has you tripping, forward, against the cold mirror. Rei spits out her bikini-gag when her hard nubs touch the reflective surface. You’d stop her ensuing moans from escaping her mouth, but you have to hold onto her thigh and breast. There are just not enough hands to touch every perfect part of her body—and her lips are definitely on that list.

Your orgasm is nigh, hence why you thrust frantically, the claps of a nye pelvis on nye ass now also louder than any background noise if someone is close enough. You can already hear the murmurs from behind the curtains. Someone whispers about hearing weird sounds—you have to bust before you get busted.

Rei’s fishnet-covered foot crawls up a wall. Fucking is now easier, so you put in the final gear and reach for her hips to to smash her back into you. Everything is too loud, too lewd; Rei’s expression, your expression, your combined groans, all the sweaty and love juice trailing down your legs—

The connection of your cock in her ass as if explodes on the final thrust you can muster up. Rei’s anal cavity is stretched and now stuffed to the fullest to the point where pulling out will cause a mess of cataclysmic proportions. You have to stay inside her for longer, plug up the cum filled hole as it sluttily clenches around your sensitive cock. 

“Fuck, that was perfect,” Rei groans, her body limp between you and the mirror. You look at her and smile for a second. That round face, adorable, makes for great selfies and family pictures. Mere moments ago, it was drooling and moaning uncontrollably. The duality of Rei.

“Yeah, but how the fuck do we clean this up?” you ask, hands mindlessly on your girlfriend's chest.

“I don’t know, I haven't planned for this scenario. I thought you’d fuck my face and I could swallow it all and then you could fill my ass in the hotel room.”

“Well, we can still do that, but we now need to get out of here.” You try to think for a second before your eyes fall on the fallen bikini thong on the floor. You stop massaging Rei’s breasts and instead reach for her pussy, wet and flushed. “By the way, what was your goal with that ‘bikini’?”

“O-oh, you really don’t like it?”

“It’s just that I wouldn’t be able to help myself but fuck you if you wore that. It’s way too revealing. I don’t want anyone seeing the pussy I fuck and the ass I fill and the tits I fondle—”

“So you want no one seeing me?” Rei moans softly when you rub her clit.

“Yes, cause I love you so fucking much, Rei.”

“Ts, looooser~”

#kpop smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #male reader insert #ive smut #rei smut #naoi rei smut

[cuubism]

work is driving me fucking insane this week, so here's this silly self-indulgent thing i wrote to distract myself.

the spirit of this post is here as well XD

coffee shop au, meet cute, literally falling for your crush

--

In retrospect, forgetting to eat for three meals in a row wasn't Dream's best move. Not that he'd done it on purpose. Hence the forgetting. But taking time to cook always felt so wasteful when he was finally making progress on his novel. He could eat later, whenever the hyperfocus burned itself out.

The only thing that eventually got him out of the house was caffeine. He'd run out of both coffee and tea in the dysfunction of this week, and thus was forced to venture out to the cafe a few blocks away from his flat in search of enough energy to keep him awake for a few more hours.

Technically, there was a place that was closer. There was also a grocery store, where he could have bought coffee grounds. But Dream took the excuse to go a bit further, and not for the quality of the coffee.

He and Johanna, on the occasion she could convince Dream to leave the house and attempt to be part of society, had first started coming to this particular coffee shop because Johanna's girlfriend Rachel worked there. But Dream had to admit that what really kept him coming back, including at times when he wasn't being dragged along by Johanna, was another employee entirely.

Hob.

Hob was, in Rachel's words, "a perfectly nice guy but I don't know why you're so obsessed with him." In Johanna's words, Hob was, "quite fit, I can't lie, but I really thought you'd have gone for someone who's a bit more of an arts gremlin like you."

In Dream's words, Hob was perfect. He always had a smile for Dream, and a kind word or compliment, and he had kind eyes, and nice hands, and was terribly handsome. Dream had never been particularly attracted to masculinity before but Hob was proving him wrong over and over. He looked like he was strong enough to pick Dream up, and that did all sorts of exciting things to Dream's insides. Dream may or may not have had an actual dream about Hob holding his hand.

Hob also made terrible coffee. But Dream didn't care. He took whatever coffee Hob made him, whether the grounds were burnt, or it had way too much cream, or was vastly overbrewed, and drank it quite happily, sneaking looks at Hob all the while. Because Hob's coffee might be awful, but he always smiled at Dream as he gave it to him, and sometimes their hands brushed and it sent a thrilling little shock up Dream's arms. And anything Hob made for him felt made with love, he could tell, it was like a homemade birthday cake with uneven frosting and an undercooked part in the middle.

It was possible Dream should care more about the quality of the coffee and less about the symbolism of it.

In any case, he went to the coffee shop, underfed and undercaffeinated, hoping that Hob would be there, even if it meant he would have to down another cup of extremely bad coffee. Hob should be there, he did usually work Tuesday afternoons, not that Dream had memorized his schedule like a stalker or anything.

He stepped inside, the little bell over the door jingling, and found that he was right, Hob was there. A thrill of delight ran through him. Dream did not often feel anything as carefree or joyous as delight, but he was very sleep-deprived, and Hob was there, so there it was. Rachel was also working, and waved to him as he stepped up to the counter. As she and Johanna were both very aware of his embarrassing crush on Hob--much to Dream's chagrin--she didn't come over to take his order, instead leaving him to Hob.

"Hey, it's Dream, right?" said Hob, wiping off his hands on a towel and leaning on the counter, looking at Dream with a smile. He knows my name, Dream thought with a heady rush, then remembered that Hob was obligated to write it on his coffee cup, and that Dream came here often, and it didn't have to mean anything. "Dark roast with almond milk and caramel?"

How Hob could be so diligent about remembering his order and so terrible at making it, Dream didn't know. "That's correct," he said.

Behind Hob, Rachel mouthed keep going, which Dream took to mean that if he wanted to get anywhere he had to attempt to engage Hob in slightly more conversation than his usual coffee-ordering script. This was unfortunately true, particularly since Hob had already nullified half the sentences Dream would usually say by predicting his order.

"You remembered my order," he said, which felt like a reasonably normal response, definitely better than do you want to see if you can pick me up? which would probably be creepy. Rachel gave him a thumbs up.

"Of course. You're quite memorable," said Hob, and winked at him. Was he flirting? Dream would like to think so, but he wasn't usually very good at picking up on that sort of thing. Why would Hob be interested in him anyway? Perhaps he meant that Dream was memorable in a bad way, that he was annoying or weird, or--

Dream still hadn't responded.

"I am not trying to be," he said, and behind Hob, Rachel sighed. It was true, though. In most areas of life Dream preferred to go unnoticed. It was only Hob's attention that made him feel all bubbly inside.

"Task failed successfully," said Hob, "because I can't stop noticing you."

Was Dream... still succeeding at the conversation? That was truly unexpected, that he hadn't already turned Hob off by being utterly unsuitable for human society.

"Is that a good thing?" Dream asked.

"Is it?" asked Hob.

Undoubtedly it was. Dream liked the thought of Hob noticing him. He liked the thought of Hob remembering his name, and his coffee order, and when he came into the cafe, with as much detail as Dream had memorized his schedule. He did not normally like having people's eyes on him but he liked the thought of Hob looking. Of Hob caring about what he saw. It made him feel interesting and worthy, and sort of giddy and lightheaded--

Oh. No. That wasn't Hob's attention. That was the fact that the last meal he'd eaten had been a sleeve of biscuits for breakfast two days ago, and that he'd been on his feet for a long time, or what constituted a long time when one had only had a sleeve of biscuits two days ago to eat. And he hadn't slept, and he'd had quite an exciting few minutes just now, and apparently this all meant that his body had decided it needed to check out for a moment, thanks, goodbye.

Inconvenient timing, Dream thought, as everything went sort of spinny and blurry. He was making such progress! He really thought Hob might even like him, and falling on the ground was not going to help his case.

Inevitable now, though. The last thing he saw before he passed out was Hob's face, expression shifting from amusement to concern, and really, there were worse ways to go out.

He woke up not much later, or at least it felt like little time had passed, to find himself lying down on a couch in what seemed to be the cafe's back office, as best as his overtaxed mind could gather. And Hob was crouched beside him, looking at him worriedly, Rachel leaning over his shoulder, face likewise creased in concern.

Dream wondered how he had gotten to the couch. Had Hob carried him there? It was a pleasant thought, though he wished he could have experienced it in person.

"You know," said Hob, "there are easier ways to get out of talking to me than blacking out." The words were light, but he sounded genuinely stressed out about it.

Dream immediately felt bad. "I'm sorry."

Hob chucked him on the cheek, a light touch that felt fond. "Not what I meant. Are you okay?"

Dream carefully pushed himself up to sitting, Hob watching all the while, hands hovering over him but not touching. Dream sat up. His head didn't spin. "I am okay," he said.

"Probably didn't eat anything today, huh?" said Rachel. She didn't look quite as concerned as Hob did, she was used to Dream's habits. Meanwhile, for all Hob knew, Dream had a brain tumor and would imminently die.

"No," Dream admitted. "I was... occupied."

"Will you be okay here for a sec?" Hob asked, brow scrunching as if he truly thought Dream might just collapse again onto the floor without him. "I'll get you some water. Something to eat, too."

It was worth fainting in a public place, Dream thought, just to have Hob look at him with such care.

When Dream nodded, Hob hurried away to do just that.

Only now his crush was going to be one million times worse, and certainly not reciprocated, not after the scene he'd caused.

Beside him, Rachel was laughing, hiding it behind her hand.

"Is my suffering humorous to you?" Dream asked, but there was no heat in it, he was too busy looking after where Hob had disappeared.

"You should have seen it," she said. "He launched himself over the counter to catch you. Oh my god, I wish you could have witnessed it."

"Surely Hob would aid any customer in distress," Dream sniffed. But something turned over in his stomach, a little flutter of hope.

"Yeah but not literally vault the counter. It was terrific. I was worried he'd break a hip."

"I'm not that old," said Hob, coming back around the corner and crouching beside Dream again, water bottle and what looked like a chocolate muffin clasped in his hands.

Rachel was unrepentant. "You're lucky you didn't wind up on the floor, too."

"You caught me," said Dream, staring into Hob's eyes. He had such pretty eyes. Rich brown, like coffee with a dash of cream.

Dream might still be a bit lightheaded.

"Of course," said Hob, and uncapped the water, handing it to him. Dream took slow sips, realizing as he did that he hadn't drank any water all day. "I'm fond of you, you know. Can't let you hit your head on the floor."

Fond. Dream might faint again.

"Should I take you to hospital or something?" Hob asked, still so concerned it was making that floaty feeling bubble up again in Dream's chest.

"I will be fine here," he said.

"He just fell for you, that's all," said Rachel, and Dream glared at her. She just smiled back. "Swooned and everything."

"I did not swoon," Dream protested.

"You kind of did, actually," said Hob. "I've never seen someone just crumple so dramatically."

"Oh, have you seen many people faint, then?"

"No, but--"

"I'm going to man the till," said Rachel, patting Dream on the arm. "I don't think I want to be in the middle of this. Let me know if you want me to take you home, Dream." She winked at him. "Unless you'd rather Hob do it."

Johanna was never this meddlesome, Dream thought bitterly. She just made fun of him and left it at that.

Then he was alone with Hob, which was both an exciting and anxiety-inducing state of affairs. He clutched his water bottle for balance.

"Um. I got you this," said Hob, and handed him the muffin. "Made them this morning."

Dream was really quite hungry, so despite Hob's poor coffee record, he took a bite of the muffin.

And this was how he learned that Hob was utterly lacking in coffee-making skills because all his talent was in baking.

The chocolate was so rich, it tasted more like cake than a muffin. the chocolate chips melted on his tongue, and he had to force himself not to just immediately take another huge bite. He really was so hungry. Perhaps, now that he knew he could get such things here, he would have a reason to visit the cafe other than just Hob -- and a reason to eat breakfast, too.

"Good?" said Hob, and Dream nodded, licking the melted chocolate from his lips, and he didn't fail to notice Hob watching the movement of his tongue. Perhaps Johanna and Rachel were right, and it wasn't hopeless, even if Dream's best attempt at flirting back was collapsing onto the floor.

He did not know what possessed him then. Perhaps it was the chocolate. Perhaps it was the worry still lingering in Hob's warm eyes, or maybe he had just hit his head and forgotten about it. Either way, he leaned forward in his seat, and kissed Hob on the lips.

His lips were so soft. Just as Dream had dreamt they would be. Hob made a sound of surprise against Dream's mouth, and caught him by the arms so he wouldn't fall out of his chair. Which was a definite possibility, though now the lightheadedness was not caused by a calorie deficit but rather because he was kissing Hob.

Hob who was kissing him back, too. Softening against his mouth, licking the remaining chocolate from Dream's lips. Would Hob hug him, too? If he had already caught him? Dream had fantasized so much about being hugged by Hob.

Only one way to find out. He leaned into Hob's arms, and Hob caught him again, wrapping his arms around Dream's back. He was so warm, and strong. He was wonderful.

"It is a good thing," he said into Hob's shoulder.

"What is?"

"You noticing me."

Hob chuckled. The sound rumbled through Dream's chest. "It's not hard to do. I've been eyeing you for a while, you know. I always hoped you'd talk to me more."

"I am not very good at talking more," said Dream.

"I think I've got that now." Hob pulled back to look at him, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiled. "Falling over is more your style."

"I only faint on occasion," Dream protested, which only seemed to amuse Hob more.

"Well. If talking is a bit tough, maybe we can go for a walk sometime?" He tucked a strand of Dream's hair behind his ear, and Dream shivered. Hob clocked it, too, and let his hand rest on the back of Dream's head, fingers curled in his hair as his gaze flicked to Dream's lips and back up. "Or. Something else?"

Dream thought something else might make him spontaneously combust. That might have to wait a bit, at least until he could cope with Hob looking at him like that without feeling like he was about to explode in a flurry of butterflies.

"A walk, if you will hold my hand," he said, and Hob smiled, and took his hand, and Dream learned that all dreams really could come true at once.

#this is SO silly #hob is literally the most average guy and dream is salivating with lust and completely ferally obsessed with him #it's mutual tho dream is literally a gremlin and hob is like 😍 wow he's beautiful he's like an angel #and then they lived happily ever after #dreamling #dream of the endless #hob gadling #my writing #sex scene between these two would be funny as fuck i think hob would touch dream once and he would come instantly and maybe also faint

[puripurin]

— Cute!Yan!Monster, who is nothing more than a literal cutiepie. Sure, his jaw is bloody and quite literally hanging by muscles, but his mannerisms are totally different than by how he looks.

The first time you saw him was in an abandoned building you were exploring for fun, dangerously stupid, but quite frankly stupid was in your middle name with all the dangerous stunts you had pulled, so this was the usual.

Until you saw him jump out of nowhere but still didn't come close to you as he banged his head on a piece of hanging metal, to which tears started forming in his eyes.

You pouted as you got a closer look. The monster that had tried to scare you had strawberry blonde hair and deep red eyes. Overall, the monster was cute except for his hanging jaw.

"Erm... are you okay?" You stooped down near him and handed him a napkin. He stared at you before taking it gracefully and wiping away his tears.

"I... I'm sorry for doing a poor job of scaring you... I'm just bad at what I'm supposed to do..." He weeped some more as he patted his tears. His voice was soft and slightly scratchy, but you had no idea where it came from, so that was a bit eerie.

"Hey, no... you actually scared me. The atmosphere was really scary as I heard your footsteps periodically, and I was always looking back. Even if it was botched, you did a good job." You patted his head as his eyes widened in happiness.

"You mean it??? I am so happy that I was able to scare you! Ah! My papa says that if you love someone very much you should marry them!" He nuggled into your chest, leaving you in confusion. "I am not letting you leave here. My papa says you should never let the person you love the most leave... I think that's for the best for you..."

"Wait, what--"

"Ah, anyways, what do you mean by you heard my footsteps periodically?" He looked up at you and tilted his head.

"Oh, it just meant I heard you walking around. Is there an issue?"

"But I don't make sound when I walk."

"Wait... then, who...?"

"Oh! Wait, you're talking about my papa!"

"Your papa?"

Just then, a horned monster layered in short black fur appeared in front of you both and screeched loudly. The cute monster giggled as he ran up to hug his papa. Meanwhile, you pass out in fear.

Eh, i think ill make a fic about his papa later. Oh also, i did post an intro, but deleted it because it was ugly so I'll have redo it, plus i was tired while doing it, so uh yeah. Also, he's not really yandere in the beginning, but once you spend more time, the more he wants to lock you up and keep you as his wife <3

#yandere #yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere monster x reader #cute yandere #yandere monster