#Whatever Happened to the World’s Fastest Man?

[thepandalion]

help I'm going insane over deltarune and Undertale stuff again

[absolutely-esme]

I have seen too many posts where a time traveling member of the JL decides to kill Danny to prevent Dan from happening and not nearly enough where they decide to kill Vlad for the same reason.

Even if a hero was pushed to the point of preemptively killing one of the two people Dan was made from in order to prevent his creation, why would they pick the one who is currently both a hero and a kid instead of the one who's already a villain and a grown ass adult?

Also, it would be so much more fun to read about Vlad getting hunted down by Booster Gold or scrambling to try and stay one step ahead of the world's fastest man while desperately trying to figure out which of his evil schemes they found out and got this hero's attention and pissed them off this much.

Was it bugging his nemesis's house? He can see how that probably looks bad out of context, but he swears the video surveillance of a teenager's bedroom was regular supervillain creepiness, not other types of creepiness!

Edit: Two things.

First off, my wording about having seen too many of the other thing was intended playfully. I am not putting those fics down. You don't have to justify it to me, and I am genuinely sorry if I came across as antagonistic. I think everyone should be allowed to write whatever they want and I don't expect it all to adhere to my likes and dislikes.

That said, I wanted to address something else. I've gotten a few different people just talking about how they would have no reason to target Vlad because of what looks like an older version of Danny, and I wanted to clarify.

Here's the thing: Dan does not look like an older version of Danny, he looks like a fusion of Danny and Vlad.

Unless someone they have reason to believe tells them that Danny grows up to be Dan, there's no reason for them to assume that Danny and Dan are the same person (especially considering that Dan is a name the fans came up with and not something the character himself went by).

So this time traveler sees a teen hero fighting an adult villain both of whom share differing physical characteristics with the Future threat, and the most likely conclusion to draw is that it's a Conner scenario.

Alternately, maybe they did actual research on the origins of the threat before time traveling instead of just hoping that murdering the first person they saw with a familial-level resemblance to the threat would prevent him from going on a rampage.

Here are some pictures of them

See how much Dan gets from Vlad's side?

[sp0o0kylights]

There were a lot of things Mike hated in life.

The demogorgon, and how it had essentially destroyed his life.

 Brenner, and the madhouse laboratory El had survived. 

How each and every one of his friends now did something weird--were weird, because flashing lights or fireworks or some stupid tune a toy horse played dragged up memories that made their eyes flat and faces hollow. 

Most of all though, Mike hated how much they relied on Steve.

There was no reason he should be the person to call when it started pouring and no one wanted to bike home from AV. 

Steve wasn’t Nancy, or Jonathan, or a parent--he wasn’t even dating anyone related to any of the Party anymore so what excuse did he have to keep hanging around? 

(Even if Jonathan was always working, and Nancy was always busy with some club or homework, and everyone’s parents all seemed to be in a race of who could get back to normal the fastest…) 

They should at least try to get a hold of other people, instead of constantly going to Steve first.

“Why?” Dusitn had scoffed at him the last time this had happened, feeding quarters into a phone and staring at Mike like he was the one being unreasonable. “I’m not gonna waste money just to hear your sister tell us no again when we all know Steve will do it.” 

Which was perhaps the most infuriating part of it all.

That Steve would do it. 

Show up and help them, even if he bitched the whole time. 

Hell, Steve Harrington knew more about Mike’s life offhand than Nancy did, and that made him want to punch a wall more days than it didn’t. Why the hell was Steve so involved? 

It was stupid. 

Weird, even! They weren’t friends, (even if Dustin and Max and El of all people said the opposite) he wasn’t being paid to babysit, (Mike had double checked; going round to ask Ma Henderson and Mrs. Sinclair, only to get an earful of how wonderful Steve was from both.) he had no reason to hang around! 

It didn’t make sense that Steve could be harassed into picking them up from school. 

Would take them to get ice cream, or hand over extra quarters for the arcade. He even gave out advice like some kind of--brother that Mike had never wanted. 

Above all?

Mike hated that when he needed someone, the number he punched in on automatic was Steve’s.

“I need you to come get me.” He said into the receiver, mad at himself and the world, but mostly mad that beyond the normal amount of squawking Steve did, he shut up and came. 

Drove up in his rich boy car, stepping out and herding Mike into it like the rain hadn’t already seeped into his bones. 

“You wanna tell me why you snuck into a bar two towns over?” Steve asked, long after Mike had slung himself into the passenger seat, arms crossed defensively over his chest.

“No.” 

One of Steve’s hands went right to his hair, running through it before adjusting the mess he’d just made. 

It was a nervous habit, and Mike hated that he knew that too. 

“Okay, well.” Steve’s hand fell back to the steering wheel, clenching tight around it. “Next time you want to do something dumb could you at least come talk to me about it beforehand?”

“What the hell would that do?” Mike bitched, staring firmly out of the window. 

“Not waste my gas for starters.” Steve bitched right back. “But I dunno man, we could have taken some bats and gone and wailed on cars in the junkyard and talked or some shit, not--whatever this all was.”

‘This all’ was accompanied by a wave of his hand, indicating not just the bar Mike had been standing in front of, but his general sopping wet state. 

“You’d actually go to the junkyard with me?” Mike challenged, doubtful. 

Steve made a face. “Did you lose your hearing in there? I just said--.” 

“Why?” Mike interrupted. “Why the fuck would you come out with me?”

Matching his entire aggressive tone, Steve said; “Because it’s better than trying to sneak into the one local gay bar when you’re barely fourteen, Michael.” 

And that? 

Steve being oddly aware of shit he really shouldn’t have?

Mike hated that too. 

“You knew what the bar was?” He asked, his voice coming out much smaller than he intended. 

“Everyone knows what that bar is, except it’s more of a biker bar than a gay bar.” Steve shot back--which did actually explain about ten different questions Mike had about the place. “Also, language you little shit.” 

Under his breath, Steve continued in a muttered; “I swear I’m going to start carrying around soap.”

“You cuss more than we do.” Mike responded, and if his own voice was a little strangled as he fought back the sudden swell of tears, then that was between him and God. 

He was not crying in front of Steve Harrington, he outright refused. 

“The point I’m making is that there are way better bars to sneak into. That one’s not nearly as welcoming as people make it out to be, probably because they’re sick of all the rumors.” 

Steve seemed to realize what he was implying because he quickly added; “Not that you should be sneaking into any bars at all!” 

“You’re not my mom.” Mike’s voice turned wet as he lost his battle with his throat, voice cracking as he failed to choke the tears back.  

“No shit Wheeler.”  Steve said, and at least he was good enough not to call attention to Mike’s crying. 

If he had, Mike was pretty sure he’d just up and die of embarrassment, right there. 

“I don’t get why you care.” He muttered, angrily swiping at his eyes. 

“I didn’t keep you alive this long just so you could die of something stupid.” Steve countered easily.

Which was kinda fair, if you thought about it.

Mike very much did not want to think about it. 

Any of it.

Ever. 

“Are you gonna tell my parents?” He asked after a painfully long moment. 

Long enough that Steve had begun fiddling with the radio, trying to find a station as they drove back that wasn’t wailing country or gospel music. 

“I’m not a narc, so no.”  

“Not about the bar.”  

Now Steve just looked confused. 

Probably because he was, because he was without a doubt the stupidest almost adult Mike knew. 

(Not that he could say that out loud--last time he had, Max had made one of her pissy faces and then El got mad because Max was, which led to a break up, which led to Mike having to beg his way back into his girlfriend’s good graces while explaining that he hadn’t meant it like that.

“How did you mean it then?” Max demanded, and Mike wasn’t sure how he managed to dodge that entire conversation but he had, on grounds that untangling his own emotions regarding stupid Steve made him want to pull his hair out and scream.) 

“What about then?” 

 “You know. Don’t make me say it.” Mike absolutely didn’t plead, even if it did sort of, kind of, sound like pleading. 

Steve flicked his eyes away from the road to give one long, weird look at Mike. The same one he gave Dustin when he went off on a rant about Cerebro or Lucas when he started discussing the stats of different D&D weapons. 

Unlike those times, Steve’s face cleared. 

“Oh.” He said, blinking, and Mike could practically see the light bulb flash above his head.

Then; 

“Nah.” 

Mike waited.

And waited.

And kept waiting as Steve went back to searching through radio channels, as if that was the end of the conversation.

It couldn't be the end of this conversation.

Not when this was the part that was eating Mike alive.

He didn’t know if this was Steve repressing it on purpose or if this was what he had to look forward to for the rest of his life if he kept trying to figure his own head out, but either way, he knew he had a choice to make. 

To let the unspoken part of today die quietly. Go unsaid, and remain unsaid, for all eternity--or he could let it out. 

Shove the “gay” part of “gay bar” in Steve’s stupid, jock face. 

Make him acknowledge it, even if it got Mike kicked out of the car, and who cared if it did? 

Steve wasn’t the person who should have picked him up anyway. 

The anger climbed higher and higher in his chest, tears and rage combining until Mike spat it all out, furious. 

“You’re not going to ask if I’m gay?”  

Steve didn’t turn to face him, but Mike saw his eyebrow cocking anyway, given how he was currently glaring a hole in the side of the older teen’s head. 

“Do you want me to?” 

“No.” Mike bit out automatically. “Yes. I don’t know!” 

Steve’s hand found its way back into his hair. 

“Okay then.” Steve paused, clearly fishing for something to say. 

Gleefully, Mike watched him struggle. 

“Do you like guys?” He managed finally, looking like he was navigating a minefield more than just talking.

“I don’t know.” Mike stressed, sinking lower in his seat. “Why do you think I was at the bar? I was trying to figure it out!” 

“Honestly I assumed this was some sort of stupid dare--but!” Steve held up a finger, before Mike could interrupt, “But let’s--shit, hold on, I had a speech for this but I kinda wasn’t expecting to use it this soon. Um.”

“You have a speech for me being gay?”

“Not for you.” Steve rolled his eyes. “For--in general! It was an in general, just in case speech!” 

He rounded on Mike, for longer than the younger was comfortable with given Steve took his eyes off the road to do it. “Okay--you can like boobies, you can like, uh--not boobies, and that’s fine! It’s all totally fine!” 

“You are not making it sound like it’s fine.” Mike said, feeling like he’d been taken out by hearing Steve say the word “boobies.” 

Gross, gross, gross. 

“Well it is.” Steve said, in a tone that felt like he was two seconds from adding in a smarmy ‘so there!’ at the end. 

“But I’m dating El.” Mike whined, which really, was both the heart of the matter and the eye of the storm that had been growing in his head for months now. “I can’t be gay if I like her.” 

“Don’t you guys break up and get together like four times a week?”

“No, that's Max and Lucas, El and I are stable.” Mike scoffed. “Or we--we were stable.” 

Before he started to have thoughts about people that weren't his girlfriend. 

Or women.

“Stable for being in middle school, sure.” Steve snorted. “You don’t just have to like one or the other you know. You can like dudes and chicks at the same time.”

Which Mike did not know, on account of being fourteen. 

He did his absolute damndest not to show that realization, instead adding that to the list of reasons why he hated Steve Harrington too.

Steve shouldn't be the one teaching him about who you could like!

“The point is that who you end up loving isn’t a problem.” Steve finally looked back to the road. “Other people might be an issue, and those people we can punch in the face so long as the cops aren’t looking, which isn’t part of the speech so let’s not tell people I said that part, but whatever you do choose, there’s nothing wrong with you.” 

Steve’s voice went firm, as he apparently recalled his speech or something close enough to it because his next words sounded a little rehearsed. “You have people who are here for you, no matter what. Okay?” 

Oh God, Mike was crying again. 

He wanted to punch Steve in his stupid face.

Wanted to hold onto the fury he'd built inside himself. Thrash around, throw himself out of the car, get away from the emotions that felt too big for his chest to contain. 

Instead he felt it all break on Steve's acceptance. On word's he didn't know he needed to hear until they'd been spoken, and sniffed out a quiet; “Okay.” 

Steve of course had to take it too far by reaching over and patting his knee, which they both regretted judging by how quickly Steve took his hand back and the face Mike made at his hand--but it…

It was appreciated, even amongst all Mike's rage.

Steve was appreciated. 

Not that Mike would ever, on pain of death, tell him that. 

Neither said a word for a while, Steve finally landing on a radio that was playing some Top 40 hit, Tears for Fears singing about ruling the world while Mike found himself trying to rebuild his own once again, tired of it having shattered so many times over. 

At least he finally felt better, even if he refused to admit Steve was the reason for it. 

He wasn’t quite done though.

 There was a piece Steve had skipped over, that Mike felt was critically important, if only because it was partly the reason he was having thoughts about being gay in the first place. 

He had to know if Steve saw it too. 

That it wasn’t just him and his stupid head, making up things that weren’t there. 

“Hey Steve?” 

“Yeah?”

“Who was the speech for?” 

Steve sighed. 

“Rule one of the whole queer thing Wheeler, you don’t out other people.” 

Like there were written rules or something.

(Maybe there were, it wasn't like Mike knew.)

“Was it Will?” Mike asked, and pretended like he didn’t desperately want the answer to be yes. 

 Steve didn’t say a thing, but the fact he nearly took the car off the road was a pretty solid answer in itself. 

“We’re not playing guessing games about other people’s sexualites!” He yelped, hands gripping the steering wheel as Mike felt a wave of relief crash through him. 

Will was--maybe, possibly, also--queer too. 

Which didn’t make this any better but it--wasn’t the not preferred outcome, either. 

(It wasn’t just Mike struggling alone, trying to figure out if his best friend wanted to be more than that, if El was breaking up with him and more and more because she wanted to be less than a girlfriend, if things were changing and he would have no one--) 

“I’m not out here picking Will up from a gay bar dipshit, I’m picking you up, and this is your reminder that next time, you should just come talk to me!” Steve ranted. 

Mike snorted.

He absolutely hated Steve Harrington, but--

“Fine.” He said, talking so low he could barely be heard. “I will.”

--maybe Mike did have someone in his corner after all. 

Even if it was just Steve. 

xXx

Bonus: 

“Between you and me, that kid is gayer than a two dollar bill.” 

“Wow Robin,” Steve teased, “Isn’t that like, a slur or whatever?” 

He snickered when she rolled her eyes and threw a roll of stickers his way. 

“I’m just saying. Did you see the way he was looking at you when you were showing off your stupid biceps?” Robin said, nudging her shoulder into Steve’s. “Will’s gonna have a rude awakening later if he hasn’t already.” 

Steve nudged her back, but kept his gaze on the Party as they trooped their way from Family Video to the arcade next door, the realization that they now had connections for free rentals making them downright gleeful. 

Will was the last one in, and Steve watched him hurry so as to not be left behind. 

He didn’t like to worry about the dipshits, but Robin was just putting voice to a thought Steve knew he wasn’t the first person to have.

And if he noticed it, then it didn't exactly bode well as being kept a secret. 

“Should we like…talk to him about that?” He asked after a long moment, turning to face Robin.

“Us?” She pointed at herself, before turning her finger on Steve. “Why us?” 

“Well you’re into girls.” He gave her a pointed look, glad that the store was empty of everyone but them so he could actually voice all this. “And I’m fine with it.”

“Yeah I’m sure he wants to know you’re fine with it.” Robin taunted, but she had her thinking face on, eyes out to the middle distance. “I barely know him. You barely know him--he’s the quietest out of all your kids.”

“They’re not my kids.” Steve argued automatically. “They're like a weird cross between shitty siblings and that kid in your class who never leaves you alone.” 

A fact Steve no longer took for granted, even if he made it sound like the worst thing ever.

“I just think it’d be nice if he knew that he had people in his corner, you know? Who supported him and shit.” 

“Steve, you compared my crush to a muppet, that wasn’t supportive.” Robin countered, but it too was on automatic. 

Softer she admitted; “You’re right though. If I had known other queer people, if I had known people would accept me...it would have made things a lot easier.”

A very long pause, in which both of them stewed for a moment, before Robin abruptly slapped her hand down on the table.

“Okay, you got me. We're doing it, and I'm making us a speech.”

“A speech?” 

“Yes dingus, a speech. I know you, you’re terrible when you’re put on the spot with this kinda thing, and trust me with things like this the moment will be spontaneous.”

“It’s Will, how spontaneous can it be?” Steve challenged back. “Getting a dinner order out of him is a chore.” 

“Stop whining and hand me that notepad. Im telling you its gonna happen when you least expect it and then you're gonna thank me later.”

“It better not happen without you.”  Steve sighed, but passed the notepad over.

God the things he did for those stupid kids. 

Bonus x2

Steve would later go on to use the speech on himself, in a gas station bathroom mirror, eyes wide and freaked out after Eddie Munson called him Big Boy in a van they stole, while Robin snickered behind him. 

He would turn on her, snapping that she; “Help me with this dammit!” 

In return she’d remind him that Tammy might sing like a muppet but Eddie  was the guy who stepped on lunches while giving speeches at lunch and sticking his tongue out, and “Really Steve, I think I won best gay awakening, here.” 

Which would promptly start an argument regarding how it wasn’t a competition, which would continue for another fifteen or so odd years before finding its way as a reference into both of their speeches as each other’s best man. 

Nancy and Eddie wouldn’t get it at either wedding, but Mike would.

[satorulovebot]

CURSED SEAS CHAPTER ONE | the rouge captain.

↳ satoru gojou x reader

genre. heavy angst, pirate au, 18+ 

tags/warnings. alcohol, religious themes, death, themes of depression, and criminal activity, it's a pretty tame chapter tbh.

notes. 6.2k wc. yeah we’re back baby with another series because i can’t sit still. i saw fan art (image 1) and (image 2) of pirate gojo and said yk what i’m gonna do a pirates of the caribbean inspired series. idk enjoy some brain rot. also know just like my introductory paragraphs my first chapters are ass and fast-paced.

next. HELP WANTED!

general masterlist -> series masterlist

Captain Satoru Gojou.

You had heard whispers of the infamous Captain Gojou for years. His name was spoken with fear in every port town along the coast. Some say he is invincible, that his ship, the Infinity, is the fastest to ever sail the seas. Others claimed he was dangerous, ruthless, and cunning—a man who showed no mercy to those he deemed too weak to survive in his world.

A few years back, a body washed up on the shore of Saltstone Port. The man, who was no older than twenty-five, had his eyes gouged out of his skull, and the number six was carved into the pale skin of his back. 

The discovery shocked the quiet little town, but it would not be the last time a mutilated body washed up on the shores of Saltstone Port.

You don’t miss the stagnant air at Saltstone Port. The salty breeze, tinged with the scent of rotting fish and seaweed, clung to everything it touched. It was a place where tales of Captain Gojou’s cruelty were whispered in darkened alleys and over dimly lit tavern tables, the memory of that unfortunate soul with the number six forever haunting the minds of those who dared to speak of it.

As you stood at the edge of the small dock in Elysport, you stared out at the vast ocean. You had always wondered if there was something more beyond the horizon at Saltsone and Elysport. You had only moved to Elysport in the last few years; your father claimed that it was God’s will for you to move after the death of your beloved mother.

You were just ten years old when your mother vanished without a trace, disappearing one night after her shift at the tavern. It was as if the earth had swallowed her whole, leaving no sign of where she had gone or what might have happened. The days that followed were a blur of confusion and fear, the house feeling emptier than ever without her warm presence.

Your father was a broken man during the weeks your mother was missing. Each night, he would fall to his knees, clasping his hands in desperate prayer. His voice, once strong and filled with faith, now trembled as he pleaded with whatever higher power might be listening to bring his beloved wife back to him and his young daughter. He prayed until his voice was hoarse, until tears stained his cheeks until the candles had burned down to their wicks. He sought solace in his faith, but with each passing day, the weight of uncertainty grew heavier, casting a shadow over your home.

He searched tirelessly for answers, combing the streets and questioning anyone who might have seen her. But no matter how hard he looked or how many prayers he whispered, the silence was deafening. Your mother, the heart of your small family, had simply vanished, leaving behind only questions and a growing sense of dread.

Nine agonizing weeks later, your mother’s body was discovered in a small, rotting, long-abandoned boat that had been stranded on the beach for years. You only caught a brief, heart-wrenching glimpse of her before the smallfolk, who had loved her dearly, carried her away. The once beautiful features of her face had decayed beyond recognition, maggots crawling across what little flesh remained.

Your father was utterly broken by the loss. He couldn’t understand why God would allow such cruelty to befall his family. The woman he had vowed to cherish and grow old with was gone, leaving him consumed by grief and bitterness. He became distant, his once-steady faith shaken to its core. He could not understand who would do this to his wife—a kind-hearted tavern worker known for offering a warm meal to anyone in need. The only conclusion that made sense to him was that pirates were to blame. In his mind, they were the only people capable of such barbarism, convinced that only they would commit such a gruesome act against the mother of his child.

Your father has always been a devout Christian. He was a pastor at the local church when you lived in Saltstone Port. His sermons were filled with messages of mercy and compassion. He always insisted that no one was beyond salvation, preaching that even pirates can be redeemed in the eyes of God.

But after your mother’s death, everything changed. His grief and anger warped his perspective, changing his view of life and love. The man who once preached forgiveness now called for the public execution of pirates, believing their crimes deserved the worst punishment hell could offer. An obsession now consumed him—a kind man who once spoke of compassion whose life was forever darkened by the loss of the woman he loved.

You now found yourself in Elysport, a bustling coastal city where the line between law and lawlessness begins to blur. The city's horizon is filled with the estates of wealthy merchants and the Governor’s home, a stark contrast to the docks below. The docks are always crowded, constantly filled with ships from all around the world, their sails billowing in the wind as they unload goods from distant lands. The scent of exotic spices and the sounds of vibrant marketplaces fill the air, mingling with the salty tang of the nearby sea.

In Elysport, you worked as a clerk for a small merchant. Your days were spent tallying registries, managing shipments, and handling mundane trade details. But your nights were different. They were filled with dreams of adventure, of sailing beyond the horizon where the sea meets the sky. Stories of legendary pirates and hidden treasures had always fascinated you, sparking a curiosity you kept hidden behind your daily life. Yet, you never imagined that those stories might come crashing into your own life one day.

One evening, as you were closing up shop, an old man stumbled into the store. His appearance was startling, to say the least—his clothes were tattered, his face weathered, and his hair a tangled mess. 

“Hello? Can I help you?” you called out from behind the counter, your voice slightly muffled by the shelves that obstructed you from view.

The man didn’t answer your question. Instead, his gaze darted around the shop, as if he was searching for anything suspicious that could get him in trouble. 

“You there!” he rasped, his voice rough. “I need a place to hide this.”

Your curiosity piqued at his words, you stepped out from behind the counter and faced the strange man who had entered just before closing. You assumed he was another last-minute customer, probably looking to buy something or bargain for a better price, knowing how tired workers down by the docks could be at this hour. 

You were curious but hesitant as you took the box from him. To your surprise, It was heavy for its size. The surface was adorned with intricate carvings, worn in places over time.

“What is this?” you asked, turning the box over to examine it more closely. The craftsmanship was remarkable, but there was something about it—something almost sinister.

The man watched you closely, his eyes never leaving your face. "It’s a map.” he said, "But not just any map. This map leads to something... powerful. Something that has been lost for centuries, tales of it told through generations of pirates, hidden away from those who would abuse its power."

You looked up at him, eyes wide and filled with curiosity. Why are you giving this to me?" you asked again, your voice trembling.

The man’s expression softened, a look of something almost like pity crossing his face. "Because you’re the one meant to find it," he said simply. "You’re the one who has been chosen."

"Chosen?" you whispered. "Chosen by whom? For what?"

The man smiled faintly, but there was a sadness in his eyes that made you uneasy. "You’ll understand in time," he said. "But know this: you must keep the map safe. Others would do anything to get their hands on it—dangerous people who won’t hesitate to kill for it."

Your breath caught in your throat at his words. You had always dreamed of sailing the seas looking for adeventure, but this... this… this was something else entirely. This was real, and it was dangerous.

You stared at him blankly, your mind racing as you tried to process the words the strange man had been saying. This was no ordinary treasure map. This was something that was hidden away for a reason.

"Why me?" you asked, your voice trembling. "Why would you trust me with something like this?"

The man’s eyes softened again, and he reached out to place a hand on your shoulder. "Because you’re different," he said quietly. "You have a strength in you that others don’t. You have a heart that won’t be easily swayed by greed or power. And most importantly... you have a destiny to fulfill."

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning that you couldn’t fully grasp. You wanted to ask the strange man more, to demand answers to the questions swirling in your mind, but something in the man’s eyes told you that he had already said all he could.

"Keep the map safe," he repeated, his voice firm. "And trust your instincts."

Before you could say anything else, the man turned and walked out the door, disappearing into the darkness of the night. You stood there for a pregnant moment, the map clutched in your hands, your mind reeling from everything that had just happened.

You looked down at the map again, the tips of your fingers trace the markings, as if trying to unlock the secrets they hold. This was it. This was what you had always dreamed of, but it was also something far more dangerous, something that could get you killed.

You knew you couldn’t do this alone. You needed help, and there was only one place you could think of where you might find it.

The merchant’s ball.

It was an event you had never been invited to before—a grand affair where the city’s most powerful and influential figures gathered. But now, with the map, you knew you had to find a way in. You needed to find someone who could help you decipher it, someone who had the knowledge and connections to help you.

As the night of the ball approached, you found yourself growing more and more restless with each passing day. The very idea of the map’s existence gnawed at the back of your mind, its mysteries out of reach. The old man’s warning lingered in your mind, too—a treasure beyond your wildest dreams, but cursed. It was a puzzle you couldn’t solve on your own, and it only fueled your determination to get an invitation to the Merchant’s Ball.

But getting an invitation was easier said than done. The ball was exclusive, and the guest list was closely guarded. You knew you couldn’t simply walk in off the street, no matter how determined you were. You needed connections, and though you had some, they were weak connections at best. Your mind raced as you considered your options, running through the names of merchants and traders you had helped over the years. Some owed you favors, but whether those favors were enough to get you into the ball was another matter entirely.

You decided to start with a merchant you knew well—a grizzly man named Marcus, who had been in Elysport for decades. You had helped him with his inventory more than once, making sure that certain shipments went unnoticed by the authorities, and he had always been grateful for your help. You found him in his usual place, a small tavern near the docks.

“Marcus!” you greeted him with a smile as you approached his table.

He looked up, his weathered face breaking into a grin. “Ah, it’s you. Come to save me from my spending again?”

“Not this time,” you replied, taking a seat across from him. “I need a favor.”

His smile faded slightly, and he set down his flagon of ale. “A favor, eh? What kind of favor?”

You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. “I need an invitation to the Merchant’s Ball.”

Marcus leaned back in his chair, his eyebrows raised. “The ball? That’s a big favor, lass. Those invitations are hard to come by.”

“I know,” you admitted. “But I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

He studied you for a moment, his eyes searching your face. “What’s this about? You’re not one for fancy parties.”

You looked around the tavern, ensuring no one was listening, then leaned in closer. “I’ve come across something… valuable. But I need help deciphering it. The ball is my best chance to find someone who can.”

Marcus’s expression turned serious. “Something valuable, you say? What kind of valuable?”

“I can’t say too much,” you said, lowering your voice. “But it’s big, Marcus. If I can figure it out, it could change everything.”

He was silent for a moment, considering your words. Finally, he nodded. “All right. I can get you in. But you’ll owe me for this, understand?”

You nodded, a smile present on your face. “Thank you, Marcus. I won’t forget it.”

True to his word, Marcus got you an invitation, and the day of the ball soon arrived. You spent hours preparing, trying to calm the nervous flutter in your stomach. The dress you chose was simple yet elegant, a deep blue silk that flowed like water as you moved. You had never worn anything so fine before, and as you looked at yourself in the mirror, you barely recognized the woman staring back at you. But tonight wasn’t about appearances—it was about seizing an opportunity, about finding answers to the questions that had been plaguing your mind since that fateful night in the shop.

When the carriage finally arrived to take you to the Governor’s Palace, you felt a mixture of excitement and fear. The city seemed more alive than usual as you made your way through the cobblestone streets, the sounds of laughter and music drifting on the night air. As the palace came into view, its tall columns were bathed in the warm glow of hundreds of lanterns. The grandeur of it all was overwhelming and it was a far cry from the rough and weathered streets of Elysport that you were used to.

You clutched your invitation tight as you approached the entrance, the doorman barely glancing at it before stepping aside to let you pass. The moment you stepped inside, you were encompassed in a world of luxury, unlike anything you had ever seen. The foyer was vast with marble floors gleaming under the light of large crystal chandeliers. Ornate tapestries adorned the walls, depicting scenes of grand battles and lavish feasts. Servants moved about with precision, carrying trays of champagne and delicate hors d'oeuvres, while the guests—dressed in their finest silks and satins—murmuring amongst themselves, their laughter filling the air.

You followed the flow of people into the main ballroom, your heart pounding as you took in the sight before you. The room was massive, with tall, arched windows that offered a view of the moonlit gardens outside. The walls were painted in rich, warm tones, and the floor was a mosaic of polished marble that reflected the golden light of the chandeliers. Musicians played soft melodies in one corner, their music blending in seamlessly with the murmur of conversation.

For a moment, you hesitated, feeling out of place. You had never been in a setting like this, surrounded by wealth and power. But you squared your shoulders, reminding yourself of the reason you were here. You weren’t just a simple clerk from the docks anymore; tonight, you were a woman with a purpose, a secret map, and a mission.

The ballroom was extravagant, to say the least. It made you feel sick that only a select few could enjoy things like this without worrying when their next meal would be or if they would be able to afford basic necessities. But were you any better than these people? After all the only reason you’re here is because you have good connections, just like the people in this room.

As you look to your left, you notice the couples dancing around the floor, their conversations blending in with the soft music. It was all very odd, like a dream you didn't want to wake up from.

“Enjoying the festivities?” A smooth and confident voice interrupted your thoughts. You turned to see a tall figure standing just a few feet away, his face obscured by a mask similar to yours.

You felt a shiver run down your spine, though you couldn’t quite figure out why. There was something about him, something unsettling in the way he carried himself, in the way he seemed to command the space around him. His mask was pale, almost ghostly, with intricate blue patterns that drew your gaze.

“I suppose,” you replied, keeping your voice light, though the unease you felt was seeping into your words. “These sorts of events are always a bit... overwhelming.”

He chuckled softly, the sound rich and smooth, “Yes, they can be,” he agreed, taking a step closer, his eyes—bright and unnervingly blue—locked onto yours through the slits in his mask. “But they can also be... enlightening if you know where to look.”

You felt your heart skip a beat, your mind racing as you tried to understand his words. Was he just making conversation, or was there something more to his statement? You couldn’t tell, and that made you more on edge.

“Is that so?” you asked, forcing a smile as you took another sip of your champagne, trying to calm your nerves.

He nodded, his gaze never wavering. “Indeed. You’d be surprised what you can learn at a gathering like this, especially if you keep your eyes and ears open.”

There was something in the tone of his voice, something that made you think he wasn’t just talking about useless gossip or civil conversation, at something deeper, something more dangerous, and it set you on edge.

The two of you sat in silence for a brief moment.

“Do you come to these kinds of events often?” you asked, trying to change the topic of conversation, though you couldn’t shake the feeling that this man was anything but safe.

“From time to time,” he said with a shrug. “But tonight is special. Tonight, I’m here for something—someone—quite specific.”

Your breath caught in your throat and you felt a chill run down your spine. It was the way he said it, the way his eyes seemed to pierce through you like daggers, it was as if he knew exactly who you were and what you were here for.

But, that was impossible, you thought to yourself. You were just a clerk, a regular person caught up in something far beyond your understanding. There was no way he could know about the map, about the treasure. No one knew. No one except—

“Do I know you?” you asked, the question slipping out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.

His smile widened, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Perhaps,” he said vaguely, his voice a low murmur that sent another shiver down your spine. “Or perhaps you’ll get to know me soon enough.”

Before you could respond, before you could even process his words, the doors to the ballroom burst open with a deafening boom. The music stopped abruptly, the room falling into shocked silence as everyone turned to see what happened.

A group of masked men stormed into the room, their swords drawn as they advanced on the crowd. Panic erupted, the guests screaming and scrambling to get away as the intruders began tearing through the ballroom, overturning tables, smashing glass, and sending the wealthy world of the Elysport elite into chaos.

You barely had time to react before you felt the man’s hand on your arm, pulling you toward the nearest exit. His grip was firm, his expression unreadable beneath the mask as he guided you through the panicked crowd, dodging the chaos that surrounded you.

“Stay close,” he ordered, his voice calm despite the madness. “We’re not done yet.”

And with that, you were swept away into the night, the sound of the destruction behind you fading as the mysterious man led you away from the scene, leaving you to wonder who he really was—and what he wanted with you.

The cool night air hit your face as you were pulled out of the grand ballroom and into the dimly lit streets of Elysport. The contrast between the noise and chaos of the ball and the quiet moonlit streets was jarring. You were still reeling from the events that had unfolded, your heart pounding in your chest, and your mind racing with questions.

The man holding your hand was strong, his grip firm but not painful, leading you through the labyrinth of narrow alleyways that twisted and turned through the dark city like a maze. The commotion of the party faded into the background, replaced by the distant sounds of the sea and the occasional creak of a ship down at the docks. The city was alive with the whispers of its nightlife, but you felt completely alone, alone with this stranger who seemed to know everything about you.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he slowed his pace and came to a stop in a small and secluded courtyard. The stone walls of the surrounding buildings loom above you and the walls cast deep shadows that obscured your surroundings. The man released your hand, leaving you standing in the center of the courtyard.

As you took a moment to catch your breath, thoughts reeled through your mind. Who was this man? What did he want with you? And why had he chosen to rescue you from the ball? You looked around, trying to get a sense of where you were, but the courtyard was unfamiliar, and the darkness made it almost impossible to see anything.

Before you could gather your thoughts, the man stepped forward again, more calculated and more predatory. His movements were fluid as if he were completely at ease in the darkness. He reached up, and with a swift motion, removed the mask that had concealed his face.

You gasped, taking a step back as the light of the moon revealed his features. The man standing before you was impossibly handsome, his striking blue eyes piercing through the shadows with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. His white hair, which had been partially hidden beneath the mask, now fell loosely around his face, giving him an almost ethereal appearance. But it was the look in his eyes that truly unsettled you—as if he could see right through you.

"You're a difficult person to track down," he said, his voice smooth and confident, with a hint of amusement.

You took another step back, your mind racing. "Who are you?" you demanded, trying to keep your voice steady.

He tilted his head slightly, a small, almost playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Who I am isn't important," he replied his tone light, almost amused. "What matters is what I know."

A chill ran down your spine at his words. You felt like a cornered animal, trapped with no way out. "W-what do you want from me?" you stuttered, trying to keep the fear out of your voice.

His smile widened slightly, but his eyes remained cold and calculating. "You know what I want," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "You have something that belongs to me."

Your heart skipped a beat, and your thoughts immediately jumped to the map. How did he know about that? The old man had warned you that it was cursed, that it would bring you nothing but trouble, but you didn't think it would be anything like this.

The man's smile faded, and his expression grew more serious. He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you. "Don't play games with me," he warned, his voice low and dangerous. "I know you have the map. And I know you've been looking into it."

"I don't have it," you insisted. "I got rid of it."

The man raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing you. "Is that so?" he took a step forward, "Because from what I've heard, you've been asking around about certain landmarks. Places that just so happen to match the ones on the map."

Your heart sank. He knew too much. There was no point in lying anymore. But you couldn't just hand the map over to him—not without knowing who he was and what he planned to do with it.

"Why do you want it?" you asked, trying to buy yourself some time. "What's so important about this treasure?"

The man studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. "That's none of your concern," he said finally, his tone dismissive. "All you need to know is that it's mine. And I intend to get it back."

"And if I don't give it to you?" you challenged.

He smiled again, but this time there was no warmth in it. "Then I'll take it from you," he said as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

You stared at him, trying to gauge his intentions. There was something about him—something dangerous and unpredictable—that made you believe he wasn't bluffing. But at the same time, you couldn't just give up the map. Not without knowing what it was all about, and what it could lead to.

"I need more time," you said finally, hoping to stall him. "Let me think about it."

The man studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, to your surprise, he nodded. "Very well," he said. "But don't take too long. I'm not a patient man."

He turned to leave, but then paused mid-way, glancing back at you over his shoulder. "Oh, and one more thing," he added, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Don't try to run. I'll find you. No matter where you go."

With that, he disappeared into the shadows, leaving you alone in the courtyard. You stood there for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Who was this man? How did he know so much about you? And what was he planning to do with the map?

You knew you had to be careful. Whatever this treasure was, it was clearly important enough for someone like him to go to great lengths to get it. But at the same time, you couldn't just hand it over without knowing more. You had to find out what this was about—before it was too late.

You quickly made your way back to your small house, your mind racing with thoughts of what to do next. You weren't going to let anyone intimidate you—not even someone as dangerous as him.

As you reached your door, you paused, glancing around nervously. The man's warning echoed in your mind—he would find you, no matter where you went. But you couldn't let that stop you. You had to find out the truth, no matter the cost.

With a deep breath, you unlocked the door and stepped inside. The map was hidden in a small, secret compartment in the floorboards—a place you thought no one would think to look. You retrieved it, carefully unfolding the worn parchment and studying the markings on it.

You had to figure out what this map was leading to, and why it was so important. As you stared at the map, a new plan began to form in your mind. You would find someone new who could help you decipher it—someone who knew the legends of the sea better than anyone else. And then, you would find the treasure before anyone else could.

But even as you made your plans, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were being watched. The man's piercing blue eyes seemed to haunt your every thought, his warning lingering in the back of your mind.

You knew you were playing a dangerous game. But you had no choice.

And so, with the map clutched tightly in your hands, you made your decision. You would find the treasure—no matter what it took.

The city was bustling when you stepped out onto the streets, the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the cobblestone road. You knew where you needed to go—there was a tavern on the edge of the city, where sailors and pirates would gather to share stories. It was a risky move, venturing into such a place, but you were running out of options.

As you made your way through the streets, you kept an eye out for any sign of the man from the night before. You couldn’t afford to be caught off guard again.

Finally, you reached the tavern, it was a weathered building with a creaky old sign hanging above the door. The scent of salt and ale greeted you as you stepped inside, the dimly lit interior filled with the low hum of conversation. You spotted a few rough-looking sailors at the bar, their eyes looking toward you with curiosity as you made your way to a secluded corner.

You ordered a drink as you tried to blend in, waiting for the right moment. You needed to be careful about who you approached—trust was a rare occurrence in a place like this.

As the minutes ticked by, you watched the patrons of the tavern by studying their movements and listening to parts of their conversations. You were looking for someone who seemed knowledgeable, someone who might have heard of the map or the treasure it led to.

Finally, your patience was rewarded. An old sailor whose face had been weathered by years at sea, sat down at the table next to yours. He wore a tattered grey coat and a wide-brimmed hat. He seemed like the kind of man who had seen his fair share of the world, the kind of man who might know more than he let on.

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage, and leaned toward him. "Excuse me," you said quietly, your voice steady. "I was wondering if you might be able to help me with something."

The sailor turned to look at you, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you. "Depends on what you’re asking.”

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how much to reveal to the man before you. But you had to take a chance. "I’m looking for information about a map," choosing your words with care. "A map that leads to a treasure. But I don’t know where to start."

The sailor’s eyes flickered with a hint of interest, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "A treasure map, you say?" he repeated, leaning back in his chair. "Well, now, that’s a dangerous thing to be looking for, especially in a place like this."

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. "I know it’s risky," you admitted. "But I need to find out what this map leads to. And I was hoping you might know something about it."

The sailor stroked his chin thoughtfully, his eyes never leaving yours. "There’s a lot of talk about treasures and maps in these parts," he said slowly. "Most of it’s just nonsense, stories made up to entertain drunk sailors. But every now and then, you hear about something real—something worth risking your life for."

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "If you’ve got a map, and it’s real, you’d better be careful who you share it with. There are people out there who would do anything to get their hands on a treasure like that."

You swallowed hard with the weight of his words sinking in. "I understand," you said quietly. "That’s why I’m being careful. But I need to know more about what I’m dealing with."

The sailor nodded slowly, his gaze thoughtful. "Alright," he said finally. "I’ll tell you what I know. But it won’t come cheap."

You reached into your pocket, pulling out a small pouch of coins. It wasn’t much, but it was all you had. "Will this be enough?" you asked, hoping it would suffice.

The sailor took the pouch, weighing it in his hand before nodding in approval. "It’ll do," he said, tucking the pouch into his coat. "Now, let me see that map of yours."

You hesitated for a moment before reaching into your bag and pulling out the map. You unfolded it carefully, laying it out on the table between you. The sailor leaned over, his eyes scanning the markings and symbols.

After a few moments, he let out a low whistle. "Well, I’ll be damned," he muttered, more to himself than to you. "This is the real deal."

You leaned forward eagerly, your heart racing. "What does it say?"

The sailor glanced up at you, his expression serious. "This map," he said slowly, "leads to a place that’s been whispered about for generations. A place where a great pirate captain supposedly buried his most valuable treasures. But it’s not just gold and jewels we’re talking about. There are stories of powerful artifacts."

"But it’s not going to be easy," the sailor continued. "The path to that treasure is full of danger. There are traps, curses, and worse things that guard it. And if you’re not careful, you’ll end up just like the others who’ve tried and failed to find it."

You felt a chill run down your spine at his words. "What do you mean, 'the others'?" your voice barely above a whisper.

The sailor’s expression darkened. "There have been others before you," he said quietly. "People who thought they could outsmart the dangers and claim the treasure for themselves. But none of them ever made it back. Their ships were found wrecked, their crews dead or missing. And those who survived were driven mad by what they found."

You swallowed hard, the gravity of the situation sinking in. "So, what do I do?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

The sailor looked at you for a long moment before speaking. "If you’re serious about this, you’ll need to prepare yourself," he said. "Find a crew you can trust, people who know how to handle themselves in a fight. And most importantly, keep that map close. There are others who would kill to get their hands on it."

You nodded, "I’ll do whatever it takes."

The sailor nodded, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. "You’ve got spirit, I’ll give you that," he said. "Just be careful. This world is full of dangers, and not all of them are as obvious as a pirate’s blade."

With that, he stood up, tipping his hat to you before turning to leave. "Good luck, lass," he said over his shoulder. "You’re going to need it."

You watched him go, your mind racing with everything he had told you. The treasure was real, and it was more dangerous than you could have ever imagined. But you were determined to find it, no matter what it took.

You took the map and carefully folded it and tucked it back into your bag. With a deep breath, you stood up and left the tavern, your heart pounding in your chest. You had a lot of work to do, and there was no time to waste.

As you walked back through the city streets, the weight of the map seemed heavier than ever. You knew you were about to embark on a journey that would change your life forever, one that would test your courage, your resolve, and your very soul.

But despite the fear that lingered in the back of your mind, there was also a sense of excitement—a thrill at the thought of uncovering something that had been hidden away for centuries that not even the best pirates could find.

You had the map and you had the determination, now all you needed was the right people. And once you had that, there would be nothing stopping you from finding the treasure and claiming it for yourself.

The night was still young as you made your way back to your small home. You were ready to face whatever challenges came your way, to risk everything for the chance to uncover the secrets of the map.

And as you reached your door, the words of the mysterious man from the ball echoed in your mind: "I’ll find you, no matter where you go."

You knew he was out there, watching, waiting for the right moment to strike. But you weren’t afraid. You were ready for whatever came next.

series masterlist -> chapter 2

[suhmingo]

I, uh, don’t know how to actually preface this. It’s really just a mini rant/pseudo-analysis of chapter 167. Which was pretty crazy. But, I loved this chapter, and yes I’m typing this with two hands.

But first let me try and do some housekeeping.

It’s perfectly fine to have an emotional, even visceral reaction to 167. That’s the point

If you feel grossed out, betrayed, unnerved, dumbstruck, or any form of bamboozled by today’s chapter then good! That means the emotional weight of the scene is working, and that you are a proper, feeling human. The

The whole point of fiction is to explore themes that would be difficult, even dangerous to experience from a place of safety. To me that’s, like the entire reason I ever wanted to become a writer, one of the most unsung broke boy jobs in the history of the world. My desire for Denji to get better in a world that is dead set on making him fail is the entire reason I have an emotional investment in the first place. Stories are inherently about conflict and the struggle with resolving conflict, that should make you uncomfortable.

Say what you want about Chainsaw Man. I can take it, I’m a big boy. But one thing that it has always had since Chapter one is a well-defined through line about the complexity of our innate desire to find some type of love fighting against the pain-wrought pathway that it leads us down. In a good story, every chapter should have some way of showing the highs and lows of that theme, and I’m pretty confident when I say that 167 perfectly shows us that.

It’s bad. Don’t let people who brag about their trauma tolerance tell you otherwise. You are well within your right to feel. But I think it would behoove people to 1. Realize that this is fiction, and its effects, though evocatory, are ultimately abstract, and 2. Realize that exploring dark themes allows people, especially a 16-25 (Or whatever the target audience for CSM is) to grapple with and think on human concepts as all encompassing as love.

From a writing standpoint, one chapter has escalated the tension of the entire story more than anything that has happened in Part 2 so far. It’s admittedly a bit early to call it peak. But looking at it as a simple story beat, that’s a fantastic chapter as far as the medium goes.

Listen, the whole point of stories since, like, Mesopotamian times was the tension between wanting a character to achieve happiness vs the hardships and trauma that life happens in life. They’re supposed to put you in a sensitive state emulative of a tense environment. I’d argue that the prevalence of escapist fiction and fandom has changed how we emotionally digest fiction. But that’s a whole nother essay.

The events of 167 aren’t some horny non-sequitur. Everything that happened is entirely a logical, if graven, extension of how we know characters.

Denji is at the lowest point we have ever seen him at. He was literally dismembered and put back together less than 10 chapters ago. The last chapter literally had him groveling on his knees at a cauldron’s brew of his own weakness, immaturity, stupidity, and horniness. I think we can all understand why he would not be in a good mental state to just lose himself in the moment. You can’t even blame Denji in this situation. He was in an entirely vulnerable state that was exploited entirely by

Yoru. Who is the literal embodiment of war. If you think that someone who represents the human fear of war is going to play fair. Turn on the news for five minutes. Yoru is a character we are not supposed to like. She’s fun, because she’s a work of fiction, but she’s arguably less trustworthy than Fami. She’s a violent, exploitative being who possesses a dead teenager. There is no “too far” for her if it’s the fastest way on the road to conquest. Reminder that before she caught feelings, her plan was literally just to castrate Denji because she thought that would further her goals. The fact that it turned into kissing was actually sparing a worse fate. IMO that savior was all in the actions of Asa.

Asa. I genuinely believe that, subconsciously, Asa wanted to kiss Chainsaw Man. Not like how it happened. Never like how it happened, but her desire for Denji/Chainsaw Man's affection has always been evident. She gets irreparably upset when she’s stood up, she makes cringe poetry for Chainsaw Man, and her entire goal as of now is in some misguided desire to make him happy. I also don’t think Asa is actually demisexual, or averse to sex. She is afraid of intimacy, which stops her from ever acting on her urges. Notice that both times Yoru has kissed Denji, it was after the idea of sex and intimacy was explicitly brought to the conversation. To me that screams that Yoru is spurred on by her host’s innate desires. Hell, it’s been shown that in the same way that Yoru has made Asa more proactive of a human being, Asa has made her feel emotions. I don’t think it's a coincidence that Yoru is blushing while kissing Denji. None of that was part of her plan. That’s Asa’s emotional influence getting the better of her in what I predict to be a fantastic role reversal of their initial contract.

This is thematically in line with how Chainsaw Man presents love and sets up deeper themes.



Remember way back in Part One when Denji was just an initial horndog and everybody kinda hated him? I hated Denji back then! When I first heard of Chainsaw Man I genuinely thought it was going to be a mommy-kink fuelled power fantasy. But I was wrong. Wonderfully wrong. Fujimoto used the allure of that idea in Makima to present a story about how dangerous and manipulative the very idea of grooming is, and how damaging that can be to a person. The same way Denji’s desire to get the approval of Makima was poisonous to him is mirrored in his desire for vapid, instantly gratifying sex is being portrayed here. I genuinely think this chapter is going to age like fine wine, and I am absolutely willing to take egg on my face if I’m wrong.

[pro-mammonologist]

Demons Are a Girl’s Best Friend

A fun vacation to the mountains! The brothers are fascinated by the human world and even more fascinated by the human world’s interpretation of them. After exploring a local church, Asmodeus learns of Mc’s relationship with the church as well as igniting an interesting fantasy of theirs.

What happens when the brothers discover Mc’s more impure fantasies? (Plenty of irony)

Note: inspired by the song Demons Are a Girl’s Best Friend by Powerwolf, if you’re okay with a little bit of metal, you’ll love this and want it in your obey me playlist

GN!Poly!Mc but with a coochie x All Bros

This chapter is SFW with NSFW conversation but no explicit action. The MC also has religious trauma so yeah.

Chapter 1: “theres a phantom lust to wake”

You shielded your eyes from the light blistering down on your skin. Having been in the Devildom so long, you forgot the intensity of the sun. You were thankful it was warm considering the coolness of the Devildom, it was a nice change, it was familiar. You packed cool clothes, making sure that your outfits were nice and airy for your trip. The brothers did the same, considering how their bodies had adjusted to the coolness of the Devildom, you already had Asmo and Mammon droning on about the heat only a few hours into your arrival.

Yes, your arrival. Lucifer wanted a trip with all of you and everyone said the usual beach, camping, famous city 1, famous city 2, and Lucifer of course suggested a factory tour but you wanted to relax. So, Satan suggested a more scenic trip, a nature trip. You loved the idea, being a lover of adventure. At least with them! So you all got to planning you settled on a mountain trip. Central Europe has many different attractions but none compare to the beauty of the mountains, especially in Switzerland.

“Man, ever been here before?” Mammon asked to no one in particular.

Satan opened your travel guide. “No, I don’t think any of us have been at least not to this one specifically.”

You looked out the window next to Mammon, lofting yourself from the seat on your train. “Are we not going to the alps?”

Lucifer chuckled from across you. “The alps would be boring… what if you’ve gone before?” He sipped at his tea, swirling the cup around before placing it on the tray in front you.

“I’m human, Lucifer, and this stuff costs money and time! What makes you think I’d have explored the alps in their entirety!” The scenery outside was enough to keep you fascinated, let alone the mountain trip approaching.

You could hear faint snoring behind you in the aisle and Beel munching on whatever food he had. Levi was babbling about how he’s seen this exact area in such and such while Asmo doted on the woman on the other side of the train. They pulled straws to choose who’d be sitting with you, short had to sit the next aisle over. They’re convinced Mammon cheated, but he insisted that if that were the case he wouldn’t have Lucifer in the same row as you two. Lucifer was offended, but it was entertaining to listen to them bicker as Satan told you about his most recent series.

You were on the train for much longer than you figured you’d be, causing eventually the whole party to lament. Once you arrived, you all were thrilled and ready to explore, but what caught everyone’s attention the fastest was the cathedral in the middle of the town.

“Beautiful architecture.” Lucifer noted, smiling to himself. “Catholic imagery has always had its appeal despite its not so kind depiction of us.” You could hear Satan scoff and you giggled at his reaction.

“I agree.” you could smell the incense from the exit of the train station. “I was shocked to find you and Satan are two separate beings.” You moved toward Lucifer as Beel lifted Belphie and his bags back up.

“Man, churches are kinda eh, if you ask me. Pretty but uncomfortable!” Mammon thumbed his nose up and pushed his sunglasses up, though with the current weather, they are unneeded. “Ain’t these places supposed to be sunny?”

“It’s Europe,” you sighed, “it’s always cloudy!”

“Still too hoooooot…” Asmo whined. “And we have to walk to where we are staying??? Ugh!” He looked exhausted despite having just sat for hours. “I’m already so beat!”

Satan started walking eastward. “Well, to rest, we need to actually get there first!”

“Well, that building has people giving out refreshments!” Beel notes, also feeling thirsty and tired. And hungry. “Maybe they have food.”

“Uhhhh,” you start, ready to protest but Mammon, Asmo, Levi and Beel (also Belphie) are already heading that direction.

“I don’t see why we can’t go inside. Perhaps we might learn something interesting.” Lucifer suggests and Satan gives up on trying to get to the cabin and follows suit. You give in as well.

Getting up close, you’re even more impressed. The stained glass and Roman build, the renaissance ambience, its all amazing. You inhale the scent of incense again and exhale. It’s hard to not be familiar with any Christian establishment in this world, especially of a Catholic nature and within Europe. Nuns were walking around the courtyard and they greet your party, speaking German. Satan speaks it eloquently and they offer to give you home baked bread. Beel obliges and eats it up in seconds.

“Danke.” You feel strange, receiving food from a place you abandoned long ago. You find it strange how the brothers seem so unbothered by it’s presence, but considering the various interpretations of demons, it makes sense.

“So holy water won’t burn huh?” You ask Asmo, who is drinking to his hearts content.

“This is bottled water, sweetie… I don’t think it’s holy unless they bless it.” He winks and offers the rest to you.

“Yeah… I think it’s funny how you guys are so… chill.” You trail off and fixate onto the crucifix adorning the doors of the church.

Asmo blinks and looks at you deeply. “It’s just a building. Humans get a lot of stuff wrong about us, don’t worry.” He sees your sudden shift in mood. “I love how cute you get when you’re worried.” He tries to soften the mood and make you smile.

Your eyes remain transfixed on the building. “I’m not worried, I just never thought I’d be back at one of these after meeting you guys. Any house of worship, really, especially a Christian one.”

Asmo looks confused. “I don’t really know this stuff, I just know they think we torture bad humans and there’s like 9 layers of the Devildom… oh and that Lilith was a human that corrupted the first human man or whatever.” He leans in closer. “Do the books and stuff say anything about me????”

“Yeaaahh.” You respond and finally look away from the doors. “I don’t really remember that much. All I really remember is the stuff about Lucifer.”

He pouts and walks to the doors. “Man, why is he so special. He’s beautiful but he isn’t me.” He pushed them open and the sound of the old doors creaking open make you jump.

The nuns look over in your direction and your face goes red. Satan comes up from behind you and grabs your shoulders. “Jumping like that makes you seem more demon than we.” He looked down at you and you shuffled out of his grip.

“Those things are too loud to be that old.” You hear Mammon say looking toward you. He has a cheeky grin on his face and his sunglasses now folded and hanging on his shirt. “Don’t worry,” he nudges, “I’ll protect ya from any scary nuns.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help but smile. Satan looks to where Asmo has stopped inside, admiring the—

“Gold!” Mammon shouts and chases after Asmo.

“There he goes again… do you want to go inside?” Satan asks you and you look aside to the rest of the brothers who are now looking toward you.

“It seems like…” you look at their eager and curious faces. “You all want to go in.”

“Is it wrong to be curious? We never get that much time here especially in a place with fictional depictions of us. You could say it’s like we are evil celebrities here.” Satan mentions and he’s right. Who wouldn’t want to know what someone wrote about them, especially if that many people believe it.

“Okay.” You say, nodding. “I wouldn’t mind seeing what they’re burning. It smells really good.”

You go inside and find yourself shoulder to shoulder with Asmo once again who was scurrying around trying to figure out what everything is. “Hey! Mc, what’s that man doing?”

“He’s going into confession.” You answer bluntly.

“Confession?” Asmo ponders aloud.

Mammon interrupts, “yeah you don’t know what that is? You confess to people stuff.”

“Kinda. But to a priest and it’s your sins.” You add, moving along to find where the smell is coming from.

“Ooooh… so it’s like that ‘daddy, sorry I’ve been naughty’ thing!” Asmo looks jubilant.

“Uh, more like ‘forgive me father, for I have sinned.’” Their ignorance is shocking. Don’t they know anything? “You really not know that or are you joking?”

Asmo taps his finger on his lip. “What’s the difference?”

Both you and Mammon look shocked now. You say, “uh, ones horny ones not!”

Asmo looks offended almost. “Are you not supposed to be horny in church?”

You froze and blinked for a minute. “Huh?” Thank the gods that there aren’t any English speakers around. “You… Asmo, you know lust is a sin.”

“Obviously but I was curious! It’s really funny that sorta stuff is sinful even though I see sexy nun costumes all over the place at Halloween in the human world. Don’t forget sexy priest too!”

It’s unfathomable what you hear from them sometimes, especially when it makes no sense. They’ve mastered your language, understand human pop culture for the most part, they even know some chunks of human history, but the one thing they don’t know is directly about them?

Lucifer joins your group. “You seem rather shocked, Mc. Is something wrong?”

“How do you not know anything about the group responsible for the whole religion condemning you?” You ask and Lucifer sighs.

“Well, as you know, I’ve long detested how I am depicted as well as the fact that Satan and I aren’t even considered separate beings. Truth be told, I just never encouraged them or myself to learn anything about it after the fall. I didn’t want them to be upset. Now, since you’re here, I think we might be more willing to interact with it.” Lucifer looks content and his words sound honest. That also makes sense but it’s still very mind-boggling their ignorance. “Mc, I only know what I’ve been told to be honest. I know much more about other depictions of demons that might be more accurate to us. But most human tales are a bit ridiculous.” Lucifer notes, scrolling to show you an image of Baphomet. “You mean to tell me most humans think this is me when it quite literally isn’t even me in the tale itself?”

“Yeah, I guess if it got that crazy, I would stay out of it too. Plus it’s not like you could really intervene and tell people it isn’t true.” You feel Lucifer’s cold hand on the small of your back. “Huh?”

“I’m curious, what did you think when you were going to meet us?” Lucifer looks at you, smiling.

“Well… a lot to be honest. Demons are depicted as deceitful, they’re to lure humans into sin. They’ll often treat you kindly, seduce you, or do whatever to make you feel safe and then take everything from you so I sorta expected that… but also I knew deep down that there’s no way that’s all true.” You answer him honestly.

He chuckles. “We do treat you kind, seduce you, and try to make you feel safe. Do you worry we are manipulating you?” He’s smiling but he’s hiding concern in his voice.

“Truth be told, the church manipulates so much that I figured I’d be used to it.” You only make him laugh again. “I know you guys love me.”

“Hmm, if I was expected to confess all of my wrongdoings to one person I’d feel terrible as well. That’s a lot of power to give one person, Mc.” His hand remains on your back and is now accompanied by Asmo’s arm.

“Heyyyy! We can all get a touch, can’t we??? I’d happily confess all my naughty thoughts to you, Mc!” Asmo snakes himself in between you and Lucifer. “And all the naughty things I’ve done.

“I’m sure you would.” You grin now, a thought coming into your head. “Say, wonder what that priest would say if I told him I’ve been bedding with demons.”

Lucifer grinned. “I’m sure they’d consider you quite the sinful human. I imagine sleeping with demons make for quite the punishment?” You nudged him playfully and stood by him for a minute.

“Don’t go getting too many ideas now.”

The clouds in the sky were heavy, ready to downpour. Lucifer pulled them group out of the church and you said your goodbyes to the nuns and made your way to your lodgings. It wasn’t too long of a journey, the rain only began when you were a few blocks from it. Lucifer rented an airbnb for your group and it was a homely loft, almost castle-like. It was clearly an older structure but had been receiving regular updates. It had only 4 bedrooms, but a multitude of beds for you all to share.

“So who gets to sleep with Mc?” Oh no. It has begun.

Beel asked the question innocently and Mammon was the first to speak up. “Obviously me!”

Asmo next. “Well, I think they want to sleep with me.”

Then Belphie half asleep. “Me n’ Beel should share.”

And then Satan. “I came up with the idea for the trip so I should pick where I sleep first and I choose where Mc plans to stay.”

Then Lucifer. “You picked it and I did the planning, I deserve first pick.”

Then Levi. “I never get to go first so I should!”

It was always bound to be chaos when you had to share rooms especially with seven demons completely obsessed with you.

You spoke up. “Let me try to make this fair. I guess I should choose first?”

They all agreed and you wandered the space. One room was large with one king sized bed in the middle, accompanied by a large window showing you the outside view of the woods. It was a dark room, much like the rest of the loft. Next there was another large room, this one with one bunk bed and another bed caddy cornered against the wall. It only has one window and small laterns hung to the ceiling, it’s charming and fantasy like. Thirdly, there’s another slightly smaller room complete with two beds next to each other, it wasn’t anything impressive, just like a hotel room complete with dark academia ambience. And lastly, a room about the same size as the next, another set of beds similar to the previous room but this time, it had a large window the exact same as the first room. The view in this one was certainly on par with the first one and you debated over which one.

But the answer was clear to you. “I want the first room. One more person can fit in the bed with me.” They looked as though they were ready to fight. “Okay, let’s do it this way… pick a number 1-50.”

“Ugh… 7.” Belphie answered.

“33.” Satan.

“I was gonna choose that one! 44.” Mammon.

“12.” Lucifer.

“Hmm… 24.” Levi.

“18!” Asmo.

And then Beel. “40.”

You waited a moment before saying who won. “Asmo gets to sleep with me.”

The brothers sighed of annoyance as Asmo celebrated and came up to you. “Yaaay! We’re gonna have lots of fun together.” He wrapped his arms around your hips and you pushed him back.

“Don’t get too touchy now. And don’t go feeling me up as I try to go to sleep, ‘kay???”

He pouted. “That’s no fun but I guess I will listen.”

You all started to move into your rooms and settle in. You could see the sunsetting as the downpour was intense. The sound was nice and calming, it made you want to cuddle up and relax with the brothers, but other things were on their minds. You walked up to the window to watch as the rain fell, gazing out into the woods.

“Mc, what are you thinking about?” Asmo asked, plopping onto the bed.

“Nothing really, just shocked Lucifer didn’t check the weather better.” You answered, briefly gazing back at Asmo.

“It must’ve not been in the forecast. You seemed upset earlier.” His voice went serious. “Was the church uncomfy for you?” He pulled at your arm to get you to sit on the bed.

“You could say that. I was kinda worried about you guys too. But really… there’s just not a lot of good in places like that. Even though they pretend to be good.” You chose your words wisely, not wanting to venture deeper.

He waited a moment before responding. “Okay. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Yeah I’m good, to be honest…” you trailed off and your cheeks went pink. “I joked with Lucifer about how the priest would react if he found out I’ve been fucking you guys.”

Asmo giggled. “I imagine they’d be jealous, hun.” He rolled onto his back and cocked his head. “Ever seen any pretty ones?”

“Pretty priests??? Most of them are old.” You laughed, confused by his question.

“Well, it’d be funny if I were to seduce one huh? As a demon? It might be fun!” He suggested, his brain filling with naughty ideas.

You laid back beside him. “Well, they’re people too. I bet they wanna fuck.”

He turned his head to you slowly. “Have you ever been attracted to anyone of a pure status?”

You squinted at him, smirking. “Well, it is interesting to consider defiling them. But no one has ever caught my eye.”

“Demons love to corrupt.”

“Yeah I know.”

“Mc, I have… an idea.”

Uh oh. You looked at him and shrugged. “Okay.”

“You’ve already been corrupted by demons, so why not get punished by priests.” He suggested, nonchalantly.

“You want me to go get fucked by priests?” You were shocked, looking at him like he’s crazy.

“No silly, even better! Us pretending to be priests!!!! See, it sounds fun!”

Asmo was a man of many talents and many thoughts, but this one hit multiple parts of your psyche. Religious trauma, arousal, demons, kinks, and your insatiable lust for all of the above to be combined. Something you didn’t know until now. Well. Really, that’s a lie. It has always been arousing to consider how, as Asmo said, they’ve corrupted you, but to fantasize about retribution? Now, that’s new.

Asmo ran his hand up your arm. “Mc, you’ve been thinking a while…”

You snapped back in. “I like that idea.” You couldn’t be shy around him anymore, there’s no point with how well he can read you now. “So you wanna include the rest of them?”

“Satan and Lucifer will likely love this idea. Lucifer loves to punish as you know.” Asmo leaped up from the bed. “Let me go ask them now!”

“Hey!” You raced after him and he shouted for everyone to gather in the middle of the room. You were already feeling hot, embarrassment searing through you.

The brothers walked out of their rooms, complaining of being summoned, too tired, or annoyed. Asmo grinned eagerly and awaited for you to get beside him.

“So! Our lovely Mc confided in me of something naughty!” Asmo wrapped an arm around you and you saw the mood of the room instantly change.

“Naughty?” Lucifer’s mouth widened into a grin. “Do tell.”

The rest of them all nodded in agreement. Belphie yawned. “We just got here and they’re horny huh?”

You shot Belphie daggers with your eyes. “Asmo suggested I merely agreed.” He laughed at your response and looked at Asmo, eagerly awaiting to hear your fantasy.

“Mc has been dirtied by all of us, corrupted and fucked nice and good, so it’s up to the holy to punish them for their sins, is it not?”

Satan was the first to respond. “And we are to take up these holy roles?” He leaned on the railing to the stairs, propping his elbows up and resting his chin on his hands, his eyes lowering. “I quite like that.”

Lucifer chuckled. “Sounds interesting.”

“So we’re gonna punish ‘em?” Mammon looked to you, his face unreadable.

Levi came up beside Mammon, making him jump. “Ohhhh this is like that one episode of That One Time I Got Turned Into A Human! I know exactly what to do!” Levi looked even more excited that Satan or Lucifer.

Beel was still quiet but he looked deep in thought. When his eyes met yours you instantly knew what he was thinking about. You could see hunger in his eyes, this one not for food.

“So we’re all in agreement? Why don’t we do it tonight since we are all rained in?” Mammon broke the silence and to your own surprise as well.

“Hm, it’s short notice but I’m sure we can negotiate a scene.” Lucifer nodded and looked around to see everyone’s reactions and then his gaze landed back on you. “Shall we get on with it then?”

You breathed in deeply. “Yeah.”

[luminouslywriting]

Ok weird request, Bob headcannons them getting hard and moaning by accident while your not in a relathionship, things can escalate from there or not ,obviously if you don't feel comfortable writing this that's totally fine.

Oh Nonny this one was delightfully wicked and so fun haha! As always, enjoy and reminder that my requests are open! Feel free to spam me as much as you'd like haha! I'm taking the day off and lounging by the pool to help me feel better so I'm pretty pleased with that!

More under the cut, cut for length, spice under the cut:

Dick Winters:

-Mortified to the max

-Like this man is a blushing upset mess and apologizing and stammering out how it was an accident

-Will not look you in the eyes for several days or weeks, depending on how loud the moan was haha

-Probably tells Nixon about it because he's so embarrassed and Nixon teases him about it

-This is not going to help him in his feelings for you and is going to be something that he wants to genuinely forget and hope that you forget.

-Though if you thought it was hot and admit it to him, he'll be super flattered and will definitely finally make a move.

Lewis Nixon:

-Probably drunk when he does it and not as embarrassed as he should be?? The thing about him is that he knew he was drunk and it was a normal human response

-He'll definitely apologize when he sobers up about things but it's not a weird point between the two of you

-Might even attempt to get himself soberly locked in the closet with you so that he can do it again sober

-And at that point, handsy makeout session that absolutely ends in someone walking in on the two of you

-But at least you two get together by the end of it??

Ronald Speirs:

-Internally embarrassed and feeling like the WORST, externally really chill about it as you reassure him that it's perfectly normal and fine

-He definitely overthinks and hyperfixates on this for WAY too long and is trying to figure out if he actually likes you or if he's just physically attracted to you

-But when he finally figures it out, it's this really simple statement about how it's not just a physical reaction and how he really likes you

-This might result in locking yourselves in the nearest bedroom and figuring out how to make more of those pretty moans that you heard haha

-Turns out, you're just as in love with him as he is with you and he's perfectly pleased with that

-Wonders what would've happened if he had actually figured it out sooner because he's really happy with you

Buck Compton:

-Stammering an apology and blushing

-Will absolutely need some space so he can recover his pride and not be super embarrassed or a wreck around you

-Probably writes out an apology to you because he doesn't want you to feel weird around him

-Then further writes a little letter about how he actually feels and you find said letter by mistake

-So if you go up and kiss him, then all will work out on its own haha

-Happy if it all works out in the end

Carwood Lipton:

-Immediate apologies and avoiding eye contact. He knows he's messed up somehow and he is NOT the type to do that to a lady.

-It will take you approaching him about the situation and about your feelings for him to actually make a move.

-Even then, he's super shy about the moaning and feels embarrassed whenever it happens.

-Keep practicing with him though, he'll get more comfortable being vocal haha

-Or purposely try to tease him in public and he'll figure out what works for him REAL quick, I promise haha

-Either way, he's consistently embarrassed about it throughout your relationship whenever it happens though

Joseph Liebgott:

-Let's say for the sake of his personality, this was intentional on your part because he hadn't made a move yet. So whatever sort of teasing that you did to make it happen, he's just gonna roll with it.

-Initially a little embarrassed but it fades quickly

-This turns into the world's fastest makeout session with the both of you getting handsy

-Public teasing for the two of you? Absolutely a fact of matter in your newfound relationship

-Don't worry, he fully intends on getting you back for the fact that you technically made the first move in the relationship—and you'll get your dues in full honey

-Never shy about his moaning or the fact that he's hard—he will tell you and he will expect to have it taken care of post-haste haha

Donald Malarkey:

-Swearing up a panicked storm about it because NO, FOUL, it was an accident

-Requires a whole 48 hours of space because he's literally so embarrassed and not having it with you

-Also comes back to you and admits that there's only one person he wants to have him help take care of things and it's you

-It might be the weirdest sweetest thing you've ever heard??

-But I digress—he is NOT into teasing in any way, but any sort of physical contact he can have with you is a turn on for him.

-Clingy king to the max after this

Eugene Roe:

-French swears, French swears, French swears, mortification, feeling a little humbled lol

-Apologizes very quickly and tries to get space

-But if you grab his arm and kiss him, he loses all track of where his mindset was and not a single brain cell will be present

-Offer to take care of things for him—he'll probably tell you that he loves you in the middle of it

-And then he'll insist on taking care of YOU at that point

-This absolutely turns into soft and sweet sex with doc haha

Bill Guarnere:

-Also swears and feels super bad about it because he doesn't want you to feel like you HAVE to do anything with him

-Locate this man immediately and find a nice wall that you can talk near, because that wall is about to become the only thing holding you up lol

-Listen, if you admit that you didn't mind and that you were also turned on by what he did, he's going to go FERAL

-I'm talking holding your hands above you head as he kisses you and trying to keep the both of you quiet because he's got a LOT of feelings

-Is a pretty vocal guy so you might have to wait for some actual alone time before anything gets taken care of or done haha

-Either way, you two end up together pretty quickly

Joe Toye:

-Apologizes, removes himself from the situation, tries not to think about it ever again

-Thinks about it WAY TOO much though and ends up trying to take care of things himself for a while

-Until he decides that it's just not gonna work and he can't do it without you....

-At which point, he locates you, admits how he's feeling, and says that he hopes to have some time alone with you soon

-Still tries to make things really romantic between the two of you and special

-Consistently dreams about you until you get together, and then he's much worse haha

George Luz:

-This sweet loudmouth lets that moan slip and he knows immediately that he's colossally messed up

-But uh, in the event you're not bothered by that, he's going to be even more turned on and vocal

-This quickly descends into sex for the two of you

-But you're not together together yet?? So it requires some conversations afterwards for it to turn into a relationship

-He's still trying to figure out his feelings and you might be the person to say that you love him first

-At that point, he's so enamored and committed to you that it's a win-win situation haha

[cultleaderyoongi]

With You, All The Way | myg

☆ pairing: Yoongi x f. reader

☆ genre: ex2l, pwp • angst, smut, fluff

☆ word count: 10k (I have no excuse except for I'm frustrated)

☆ warnings: toxic stuff happens, a lot of miscommunication; a lot of making up and making out; some cursing; mentions of alcohol; explicit smut – kinda soft dom!Yoongi, breast/nipple play (he's kinda a boob guy), fingering, eating out, handjob, blowjob, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (reader is on birth control tho which is mentioned), multiple orgasms, simultaneous orgasms, creampie, some praise, some aftercare

☆ synopsis: Break-ups are rough, more so if you and your ex share the same friend circle. How could a simple and supposedly tame night full of fun games change the trajectory of your relationship that is no more?

☆ playlist: Tinashe – Perfect Crime | Alina Baraz – Between Us | Kali Uchis – Moonlight

☆ a/n: Guess who's back after *checking imaginary watch on my wrist* almost a year 💀 Did I whip this out within approximately two weeks? Maybe. This is the fastest I've ever written, so therefore it's sloppily edited – especially towards the end (I'm not a fast writer, ok? I'll come back to edit it soon). Listen, I was super heartbroken about the concert (still am), so my mind conjured up this beast of a delusional, self-indulgent story. Pls think of me when you go see my man live, especially if it's the Newark show tonight 😭

I started off this story with Marie Claire Yoongi in mind, but with the release of D-Day it turned more and more into Haegeum Yoongi, sooo...feel free to imagine whichever version you want. Happy D-Day era to y'all! Lmk what's your favorite track, your favorite look, your favorite whatever. Let's talk and suffer together lol

Enough of my rambling though. I hope you enjoy reading! As always, if you do – thank you and pls lmk what you think ♡

☆ taglist: @main-bangtansmauyeondan @jwlmnbt (I'm really horrible at keeping track of my taglist which is also due to my inconsistent posting, but if you see this and you remember wanting to be on my practically non-existent permanent taglist pls lmk)

© cultleaderyoongi on tumblr | do not repost or translate on any platform

You shouldn't be here.

You really shouldn't.

Whose idea was it to bring everyone together for a night of fun activities and drinks? Whose stupid idea was it to invite you when your least favorite person in the world is going to be present as well? And furthermore, whose stupid idea was it to seat the two of you within clear vision of each other?

"Don't hate the player, hate the game." Your friend Jimin, the host and therefore perpetrator of all this, speaks with a smirk as if to answer your internal monologue, watching your other friend Jungkook pick up eight colorful cards after being hit with two subsequent draw fours.

Laughter goes around the circle as the youngest tries to rearrange the abundance of cards in his hands.

Truth be told, you could've declined. It's not Jimin's fault things went south with you and the man whose glare avoids you as if his life depends on it. Yet you spot glimpses of his feline eyes set on you when he least expects it, catching him off-guard – and suddenly the fluffy, white rug beneath his feet is a lot more interesting to look at.

"Oh Jungkook, you're almost as rich as Taehyung!" Seokjin jokes, drawing your attention back to the group.

Hoseok joins in, accompanied by an animated cackle. "You're giving Taehyung a run for his money."

You muster said boy beside you, his brows furrowed and tongue poking out in focus. He can barely spread out his set of cards without dropping any. Poor Taehyung.

As the game continues and more and more people yell out Uno in relief until a loser is revealed (it's a close and tedious match between Jungkook and Taehyung, but at the end Jungkook pulls through) you pay close attention to the way Yoongi toys with the rings on his fingers. He always does this when he's anxious. His action is incessant, almost obnoxious in your eyes. You don't like being here any less than he does, but at least you try your damn hardest to pull yourself together in front of your friends. They're your friends as well as his. You haven't had the chance to see them as much lately while he gets to see them all the time – they live together, for fuck's sake!

"_____." Jimin's voice pulls you back to reality. "Lend me a hand?"

"Uh yeah, sure." You spring up from your seat, realizing Jimin asks for your help clearing the table.

While he collects the cards strewn across the coffee table, you make move of collecting empty bottles and cans. In your position, you're slightly hunched over the surface which involuntarily causes one thing to happen.

Your suspicion is confirmed when you look up at your ex-boyfriend shamelessly staring at your cleavage. There's a split second where you make direct eye contact once he grasps the situation – and now things are ten times more awkward.

Taking a deep inhale, you place everything on the kitchen island nearby before returning to your seat. You muster Yoongi's stone-cold, almost dead-like expression. To anyone that didn't witness what happened seconds ago, it probably looks like the regular go-to mood for Min Yoongi. But you can catch the tiny movement of teeth nibbling on the inside of his bottom lip. Oh, he's frustrated. You can't quite determine yet if you're proud of this achievement.

Meanwhile, Jimin sets up the next game.

"This doesn't look like a safe game to be around Namjoon-hyung," Jungkook murmurs, inspecting the tower of wooden blocks stacked on top of each other.

"Hey!" Namjoon retorts to the boy, his lips pulled into a slight pout. "I can play Jenga alright. Just you watch."

There are noises of disagreement going around the group, some of the guys sharing anecdotes on things Namjoon has accidentally broken recently.

"There's a little twist, by the way," Jimin informs everyone amidst the commotion. "Each block has an instruction on the bottom. Kinda like truth or dare – but you don't get to choose."

"Oh!" Seokjin claps his hands once in excitement. "Now we're talking."

Of course, leave it to Park Jimin to make an already awkward evening even more awkward by potentially causing ruckus with whatever tasks he gives out to people. Great.

After a match of rock, paper, scissor to determine who starts (which is Namjoon who already almost has the tower topple over by crouching down to the table), the first few turns go by in a breeze. Nothing too out of the ordinary has been requested yet. Taehyung choosing Jimin if he had to pick someone he would date out of the bunch or Jungkook giving Hoseok a lap dance like there's no tomorrow seem like natural occurrences for a Saturday night in this house.

"My turn," you murmur as you bend over until you reach the stack. Carefully, you pick a piece from the lower half, smiling to yourself as it slips out with ease. That smile fades though as soon as it appears when you flip over the block to read out the demand: kiss a person of your choice (on the lips! No less than 10 seconds).

There are multiple Oohs going around the group. Some are of surprised and enthusiastic nature – some stem from a place of concern.

You're rooted in place, your mouth running dry at the idea of... What exactly? There's nothing to be nervous about. Most of the guys (emphasis on most) wouldn't even make such a big deal out of this for your sake. Also, you're not blind. You've got handsome friends for sure. Each and every single one of them. It's the thought of him and the consequences. Whatever that may entail.

"I don't think this is right." Namjoon comes to your rescue, most likely sensing your discomfort.

"Why not?" Taehyung asks in earnest, visibly confused about the elder's remark. "She's a free woman. She's free to do whatever."

"Hyung," Jungkook chimes in, "I know for a fact she's not gonna kiss you. You can stop sucking up to her."

The youngest's savage comment has everyone in a laughing fit – everyone except for Yoongi of course.

Uncertainty takes over your mind, covering it in a thick blanket. It's been three months since the two of you broke up. Are you still hung up on him? Yes. A hundred percent yes. Does the same apply to him? You can't say for sure. He's been eerily quiet the entire evening, almost too quiet for your liking. He could either be hiding his innermost thoughts or he actually doesn't give a single fuck about you anymore.

Once the laughter dies down, the sound of his all too familiar voice has you lifting your eyes from the little troublemaker in your hand.

"He's right," Yoongi points out plainly, referring to Taehyung. "She can do whatever she pleases. I don't care."

As he finishes up with a sip of his whiskey, the room falls silent. Nobody dares so much as even breathe. Everyone exchanges looks between each other ranging from unease to utter shock.

So he really doesn't care.

"Okay." You catch his attention with these two syllables, his eyes never straying from you as you place the wooden piece on top of the tower. Making your way over to his side of the couch, you maintain eye contact throughout. There's a slight twitch noticeable in his eyes, confusion taking over his features. Once in front of him, you bend over before leaning in – only you redirect at the last second, wrapping your arms around Seokjin's neck who's sitting next to him. You give it no second thought, planting your lips onto his in an instant.

Although in tunnel vision, you can still hear the gasps around the room. You didn't think this through, but you have to commit now which is why you slightly intensify the kiss by parting your lips. Your hunched-over position becomes uncomfortable though, causing you to drop down to one knee beside Seokjin's thigh on the cushion.

He welcomes the closer vicinity, holding you by your waist with gentle hands.

Has it been ten seconds yet? You have no idea. You assume Jimin would count down, but he's probably too stupefied like the rest of them. Throwing in the tiniest of tongue action for good measure, you part again rather sooner than later. A clear sheen of lip gloss and saliva covers your friend's plush lips. His ears are flushed almost a hot pink.

Your job here is done.

Clearing your throat, you turn around to no one in particular. "I'm gonna go to the bathroom. You can keep playing without me."

And with that, you brush past Yoongi's frozen form, ignoring the whispers going around the room.

You've been warned about the sink in the downstairs bathroom not working (once again, courtesy of Namjoon), so you swiftly climb up the flight of stairs to the upstairs bathroom.

Closing the door behind you, you let out a loud exhale before you make your way over to the sink. You don't have to use the bathroom. You just need a minute to breathe. Or two. Or five.

You look up at your reflection in the mirror, the telltale sign of the kiss written all over your lips. Had you known this is how things are going to pan out, you would've opted for smudge-proof lipstick. Turning on the faucet, you dab some water onto the pad of your finger to wipe at the corners of your mouth.

What have you done?

A knock on the door startles you.

"What?" you ask, wondering who it is.

"Let me in."

The deep, raspy tone coming from the other side of the door draws an annoyed sigh out of you. "I'm peeing," you answer flatly.

"No, you're not."

Another heavier sigh passes your lips this time. He's the last person you want to see right now, but something tells you to give in still. "What do you want?" you bite as you swing open the door with so much power you almost detach it from its hinges.

Yoongi steps over the threshold, closing it behind him with equal force. The impact causes the door handle to rattle. He watches you wander back over to the sink, irritation marking every inch of his face. "What the fuck was that for?" he spits with so much venom it's far from characteristic of him.

"What do you mean 'what the fuck was that for'?" You turn to face the mirror, inspecting yourself again. "I did what was expected of me."

Coming up behind you, your ex-boyfriend shoots daggers at you through the reflection. "Are you fucking kidding me? That was way more than what was expected of you!"

"What's your fucking problem? You made it clear in front of everyone, including me, you don't care. Besides"–with your blood pumping hot through your veins, you spin around looking him dead in the eye–"you wanted this. You ended this." You point back and forth between the two of you. "So you don't get to complain now."

He stares you down with what you can now decipher as hurt and rage. "Don't talk about our relationship like it was just a thing. For fuck's sake, _____! We were together for almost two years." His growing distress shows as he rushes a hand through his pitch-black hair. "You took equal part in the downfall. You took equal part in the decision."

A small scoff comes to the surface. "Are you actually listening to yourself? You sat me down and told me this wasn't gonna work out – not me. You came up with all the excuses you're too busy and your career doesn't allow a stable life when you know very well I've tried everything in my willpower to make things work."

His features contort more into agony. "That's because you were never satisfied with my solutions. Who says you were the only one trying to make things work? Nothing was ever good enough for you. I know I have a busy lifestyle, but things always have to go according to your plan. You immediately shut down whenever I suggest something that's not part of your vision."

You roll your eyes at him, partially in anger but also in a poor attempt at keeping your tears at bay. He's not entirely wrong, you're aware of that. It wasn't easy with him, but you could be equally as stubborn. At the time, the glass was simply too broken to put back together – no matter how hard any of you tried. Maybe you needed the time apart to see clearer.

"These past three months were hell for me," you confess suddenly, dropping your head in shame.

There's a beat of silence following your words. "For me as well," Yoongi finally answers, his voice coming out barely above a whisper.

"How come we're so bad at this?" It's more of a rhetorical question, but you genuinely wonder how you managed to stay together this long.

Another pause settles in before Yoongi speaks up again. "I don't think we're bad at relationships. There are things we need to work on, sure. But these things don't come overnight." After wetting his lips tentatively, he continues, "We're already making big progress by talking about this – even if we wanted to strangle each other seconds ago. If anything, we needed this in order to finally be honest and not hide behind a façade anymore."

Your mind takes you back to that fateful day when you talked each other through the break-up. Things were convoluted as you convinced each other you didn't see any future in being together just to avoid addressing the truth and finding a common denominator. It seemed easier this way, running away from your problems and saving face in the process.

Now look where it led you – the worst outcome possible.

Catching a stray tear rolling down your cheek, you muster up the courage to look at him again. "What do we do now?"

He lets out a low hum at the sight of you, his hand coming up to carefully wipe another tear close to spilling from the corner of your eye. "I don't know. All I know is I don't like this. The distance, the avoidance – the animosity."

"Yeah." You let his words hang heavy in the room. Hard agree on this one. "Neither do I."

"And I certainly don't like seeing you make out with someone else right in front of my face – let alone Jin-hyung at that."

His comment has you chuckling lightly. "To be fair, I didn't enjoy it as much as you'd think."

"You're joking." He breaks out into his signature gummy smirk. "Worldwide Handsome didn't do it for you?"

You shake your head, a small smile forming on your face. "He's not you."

At that, his grin grows even wider, his eyes turning into downturned crescents.

"I'm sorry, by the way." You play with one of the bracelets around your wrist, tugging at the golden chain.

Yoongi reaches for your arm, most likely out of reflex as he notices your hesitation. "It's okay. I'm sorry, too." Dropping his hand, he elaborates, "I overreacted earlier. You're not... We're not­..."

He struggles to finish his thought, but you know exactly what he's trying to say. "Do you want to be?" you drawl, immediately wincing at how desperate you sound. Maybe it's still too early for this.

Your concern dissipates as his eyes light up in an instant. "Of course," he murmurs. "I've always wanted to."

The corners of your lips tug upwards again at that. "I do, too," you follow up though you're sure he already figured.

What a serious turn of events. Who would've thought things were going to work out this way? You could hug the world right now. Hell, you could hug the entire universe.

"Should we..." he starts, a mischievous glint glossing over his irises, "shake hands on this?"

Bursting into laughter, you shake your head at his ridiculous idea. "That's so formal. We're not business partners."

"Fine then."

Your laughter ceases instantly as he takes a few steps forward, slowly backing you into the marble countertop behind you.

"Should we hug it out instead?"

You watch the way his tongue swipes across his bottom lip as you're caged in between his arms, the closeness sending your mind reeling.

"Or do you have something else in mind?"

Swallowing down hard, your focus switches between his lips and the seductive gaze he holds you with. "A hug would be a start,” you croak out.

He sends you a crooked smile before releasing his grip around the corner of the sink, enveloping you with both arms for a tight bear hug, his cheek coming to a rest on your temple.

You welcome his touch, bending your arms that are stuck underneath his to clasp around his shoulders. An abundance of warmth and comfort washes over you, so you bury your face into the crook of his neck to take it all in. Words can't describe how much you missed this – how much you missed him.

The two of you stay like this for a while until Yoongi breaks the silence. "Just to be clear–"

You lift your head to get a proper look at him.

"–I do care. I always have, and I always will."

All trains of thought leave you as you stare at each other, the sincerity in his eyes granting them with a spark you haven't seen yet before. You swear there's a magnetic force involved, that's how strong the urge is when you slowly close the distance pressing your lips onto his.

Bliss overtakes you instantly, the familiar feeling of his lips bringing back all the memories of the past two years. Things were never easy between you, but you want to make it work this time no matter the cost.

Once you pull apart, all you can do is look at each other, completely at a loss for words. You catch the way Yoongi's focus switches back and forth between your eyes though, trailing down to your lips before coming back up where it ultimately stays.

He loosens one of his arms around you, bringing it up to rest his hand on the side of your neck. With his thumb, he rubs soothing circles into your cheek.

You close your eyes at his touch, unfurling an arm from behind his back to curl around his neck instead. The other follows the curve of his spine before enclosing around his waist.

"God..." Yoongi murmurs, his forehead coming to rest against yours. "I missed you so much."

Blinking your eyelids open, you catch the moment his open just a second later. "I missed you, too."

This time it's he who draws you in for a kiss, his hand gently tilting your head to the side to grant him access.

There's always been something super addictive about Yoongi's kisses. From the tingling sensation that infests your entire body starting at the top of your scalp all the way down to the soles of your feet, to the funny feeling in your core that has you weak in the knees and lose all sense of self – you could never get enough.

You're done for when he parts his mouth slightly, the tip of his tongue slipping through the seam of yours. You let out an involuntary moan, seeking solace as you tighten your grip around the cotton fabric of his shirt.

He steps closer causing you to part your legs to make space for him. With your torso bent backward into a small arch, he starts planting kisses along your jawline down your neck.

At this point, you're like wax in his hands. Of course he's more than familiar with your weak spots.

His hold around your waist wanders down to your thigh as he hooks your leg around his hip, gently hoisting you up on the countertop. In a painstakingly slow fashion, his lips flutter across your collarbone before they land above the cups of your bustier top.

You can feel his hand travel further up your thigh, shyly slipping beneath the denim fabric of your skirt. Before he can go any further, you gently grab him by the wrist.

Flustered, the male lifts his face from your cleavage. "Sorry, did I–"

"No," you interrupt him quickly. You don't want him to get the wrong idea. "Not here."

"What–"

Before he can ask any further questions, you climb off the counter, dragging him out of the bathroom down the dark hallway.

The door closes behind you with a silent click before you switch on the light.

You haven't seen this room since the break-up. It looks about the same, maybe a bit messier than you remember. The bed looks like it's been made in a hurry, there are a few more clothes strewn around than you're used to from your ex-boyfriend. You're unsure of the emotions that overcome you. They're something along the lines of guilt, shame – sadness.

In your daydream, you don't notice Yoongi coming to stand in front of you. "I'm sorry it's kinda messy," he apologizes, scratching the back of his head. "I didn't expect company tonight."

You solemnly shake your head. "It's fine. That's not it."

It's silent for a beat until he speaks up again. "We don't have to do anything if you don't want to."

Again, you shake your head. "I do though."

The man musters you sternly as if to read your mind. Then he cracks a small smile. "Okay. Me too."

One wouldn't be able to tell the two of you were engaged in a semi-heated make-out session just a minute ago with the way you're gradually closing the distance between you. But once your arms are slung around his neck again, the passion from before resurfaces in an instant.

His hold around your waist grows more desperate with each passing second, pulling you further into the room along with him until you reach the foot end of his bed. In between hungry kisses, he plops down onto the mattress with a soft thud.

You're still in a mostly upright position, a little bit hunched over with one knee propped up beside his thigh as you continue kissing him. It's comically similar to the scene from the living room – although this time it's with the right man. The realization has you chuckling against his lips.

"What's so funny?" he asks, breaking out into a smirk of his own.

You playfully nibble on his lower lip. "Nothing," you lie. "Just thought about how strange life is sometimes."

A tiny squeal escapes you as Yoongi suddenly drags you down with him, your arms coming out just right on time to cushion the fall. "Life is strange," he agrees. "But I like where it's leading us right now."

The mischief in his tone doesn't go unnoticed by you, so to wipe that smile off his face you lean down stealing another kiss from him. It starts off relatively tame before you try to rile him up ever so slowly, lowering your body until you're straddling his waist. Your tongues are fighting for dominance, but ultimately you have the upper hand in this as you pull away, watching him from above in all his glory. Or so you thought because the second you lay eyes on his fucked-out expression, his parted lips so plump and shiny and his pitch-black hair splayed out on the white comforter you swear you lose all sense of reality. Ethereal is the word that comes to your mind. He's nothing short of ethereal.

"Ah!"

Yoongi takes advantage of the situation while you're lost in your thoughts, flipping you over on your back. "Enjoying the view?" he jokes, his gummy smirk on full display.

You snort. "Maybe."

His lips are on you again immediately, retracing their path from earlier as he places kiss after kiss over the curvature of your chest. "So am I."

You're reduced to whimpers when he sucks love bites into your skin.

Once he pulls away to admire his work, he informs you with a straight face, "You know, I had a really hard time not staring when we were downstairs."

You bite your lip, patiently waiting for the revelation.

"But then you helped clearing the table, and they were practically in my face, so–"

"You missed my tits," you interject with an amused smile.

He chortles. "You make it sound so crude." Tracing the intricate flower embroidery covering your breasts with his finger, he elaborates, "Obviously, I love looking at all of you. Not just your tits."

The way he repeats the word has you burst into laughter.

"Stop laughing at me." His cheeks rise into full globes before his face falls again. "I'm serious, I missed seeing your face. You look really beautiful tonight."

Whatever bullshit you were about to say – it's gone. The way his words leave his lips with such sincerity and his eyes are set on you as if to imprint every single inch of your face in his brain renders you speechless. All you can do is show him that you missed him just as much – if not even more. Pulling him down to you by the nape of his neck, you press your lips together again, eagerly running your hand through the strands on the back of his head. It's gotten a little bit longer ever since you broke up, and admittedly you find it kind of sexy.

"In all seriousness though"–Yoongi mumbles in between kisses–"as beautiful as you look in this, I want if off now." Toying with the strap of your top, he gently glides it over your shoulder until it loses tension.

You comply with no questions asked, propping yourself up on your elbows. Yoongi catches on right away, reaching behind you to pull down the zipper. It always amused you how contradicting he could be, his patient character cracking when it came to intimacy, his soft-spoken nature turning more daring and demanding.

A low hum resonates from him at the sight of your bare breasts, and it doesn't take long until his attention is on them again, his hand cupping one of them while he bends down to take care of the other.

The sudden contact has you moaning out louder than you'd like. As he changes up the motions on your hardened nipple, it's hard to keep it down now. Throwing your head back, you relish the onslaught of suckles and licks, kisses and bites.

He switches sides, granting your other boob the same treatment while still squeezing the prior.

You're a mess, to say the least, the dampness sodding your panties a sure indicator of that.

As if he's living in your head, Yoongi's hand wanders down the expanse of your torso before stopping right under the hemline of your miniskirt. Tugging at the seam, he grumbles, "Take this off, too, baby."

The audacity to throw in the pet name as well – you've never been quicker at undressing up until this point. Your hands are shaky as you're fiddling with the button though, so Yoongi comes to the rescue, unbuttoning it at the speed of light yet the veins raking across his hands have your undivided attention, prolonging the moment to infinity.

He slides down from the bed to the floor, taking the obstructing clothing with him at the same time.

There's something about you being stripped down to your underwear whereas he's still dressed that sends uncontrollable tingles to your core.

While leaving fluttery pecks across your lower abdomen, the male slips a single digit under the fabric covering your crotch. "We haven't even started yet"–he places another peck closer to your pelvic mound–"but you're already so wet, baby."

A snarky response is on the tip of your tongue, something along the lines of it being a given when he's been playing with your boobs like a man possessed, but you swallow it down when he drags his finger over your folds, dipping the tip into your slit.

Your reaction is immediate, the whimper passing your lips drawing a smile onto his. "God, I can't wait to make you cum," he grunts, and with that his fingers hook around the waistband of your panties, removing the last remaining piece of clothing covering you.

Any sort of thought dissipates from your mind as he throws your thighs over his shoulders and his mouth connects with your center, licking up your arousal like it's a sport.

You're no stranger to the things he's capable of with his tongue, but this is no match to the times before. His moves are calculated yet determined, taking you to the brink of an orgasm in record time. There's no use holding back anymore, your hand covering your mouth doing little to nothing hiding your whines.

In between all the licking and sucking, Yoongi retracts for a split second, a wicked grin gracing his features. "Getting close?"

"Mh-hm," you hum out breathlessly. "Please don't stop."

He doesn't need another plea from you, his movements more eager than before as he continues eating you out.

Weaving your hand through his thick locks, you watch him from above. His eyebrows are furrowed as he focuses on your pleasure, his hands around your thighs digging deep into your flesh. This sight alone could have you cumming on the spot, but it's the switch-up from small kitten licks to suckles on your clit with the perfect amount of pressure that drives you over the edge. "I-I'm cumming, fuck!"

He guides you through your release, letting you grind on his face as he runs his hands over your thighs locked around his head in a tight grip. Once you're done riding it out, he presses one last kiss to your quivering core, smirking at the way you squirm over the sensitivity.

"Fuck," you curse again in disbelief. The room around you appears surreal. You watch the ceiling above you to regain consciousness. He essentially mouth-fucked you into oblivion.

A light kiss to your temple brings you back from wherever your mind was catapulted to. Outer space or another dimension. No one really knows for sure.

"Still with me?" Yoongi checks on you, his thumb rubbing tiny circles into the highpoint of your cheek.

You swallow down hard, willing your eyes to focus on his looking back at you. The deep brown of his irises resembles that of the Iced Americanos that he loves so much although warmer and more welcoming than the caffeinated drink. "Y-yeah," you manage out.

"Good." He bends down to peck your lips. "Thought I'd lost you for a second."

You might as well be lost for the rest of eternity. Your hands seek for harbor, digging into the sleeves of his jacket. "Take this off," you mumble, impatiently tugging at the garment.

"Alright." Yoongi chuckles at your cute antics, taking it off instantly.

You're not satisfied yet though, curling your hands around the hem of his shirt, dragging it upward until a sliver of his abdomen shows. "This, too."

He shushes you, grabbing ahold of your wrists. "Baby, you're getting too excited."

With your lips in a pout you protest, "I'm not. I just wanna take care of you, too."

His laughter resonates in your ears. "You're gonna get to take care of me soon enough." You're still pouting, so he comes up with a peace offering. "Here, how about this?" Guiding his hand back down to your heat, he proposes, "Give me another one, and I'll let you do whatever you want with me for a while."

You're spent already, your first orgasm having drained your entire energy. But you're willing to go again if that means getting what you want. Nodding your head, you lean back onto the bed.

"Good girl."

Holy shit.

It takes all your might not to melt into a puddle right then and there, but his working hand doesn't give you enough time to even process his words, his ringed fingers already drawing circles on your swollen bud. You gasp out silently, leaving an imprint on the mattress with how hard you're throwing your head back.

His digits expertly tickle your clit as if you're a key on his piano or a string on his guitar, experimentally dipping them into your heat for precise pumps. You thank the gods but also simultaneously curse the devil for making this man skilled with both his tongue and his hands.

It's not long until you feel the all too familiar knot in your core tighten again, squeezing your walls around his fingers as you feel the cold metal adorning them.

"That's it, baby," he growls. The pad of his thumb works your nub while his ring and index finger drag in and out of you with fast strokes. "Almost there."

You barely manage out anything intelligible other than Yeah and Don't stop. Sweat forms on your skin from your neck down to your chest, the golden pendant of your necklace clinging to it. So close, so damn close.

His hawk eyes are on you the entire time, intense and sinister. Not a single twitch of your muscles passes them by. If it wasn't for that crooked smile of his you would think he's studying you, analyzing your every move.

It's easy to feel intimidated under his watch, so to lessen your nerves – and finally bring yourself over the edge – you grab him by the collar, pulling him close to you. "Kiss me,” you murmur as if his lips aren't already pressed to yours.

With one last wicked grin, Yoongi gives in to your request, kissing you as if his life depends on it. He knows exactly how to get you going, lets you taste yourself on his tongue while he produces more of your sinful essence.

All you can do is whimper against his mouth until you break apart, another orgasm ripping out of you sooner than you thought that has your thighs clamping shut and your back arching off the mattress. A string of profanities leaves your lips as Yoongi continues massaging your clit through your high. Your sweaty hand clutching at the comforter snatches his wrist, stopping his crazed motions. "F-fuck okay, stop," you manage out, your throat as dry as a desert.

The man has the audacity to send a soft slap to your folds before pressing a quick peck onto your temple. "You did so well." He peers down at you with a gummy smile as he sits up straight, popping his soaked fingers into his mouth. "That was fun."

You're essentially an empty vessel, watching him with your mouth agape while nothing but a numbing, tingling sensation travels along your limbs. This must be the afterlife. Hell or heaven or maybe both.

"Alright." His voice takes you back to the bedroom. "As promised"–he shuffles to the edge of the bed, spreading his legs–"you have all the creative control now."

A tired chuckle escapes you before you scramble yourself up on your elbows, immediately sliding down to the floor in front of where Yoongi sits. You're quick to work on his belt, looping the leather through the holes although the feeling in your fingers hasn't returned yet.

The sound of Yoongi's laughter fills your ears, and you know you must look like a fool with the way you're trying to get him out of his pants before you even took off his shirt. Oh shit, yeah. You totally forgot about his shirt, but you have all the time in the world. For now, your focus is on something entirely else.

He observes you as you pull down his jeans and boxers in one go, lifting his butt from the bed to facilitate the process for you. He sports this cocky sideway smirk that drives you insane, but you manage to wipe it off his face the second your hand wraps around his length. A hiss passes through his teeth once you start stroking him in an up-and-down motion. Throwing his head back, he lets you take full control.  

You add in a twisting motion whenever you reach the tip which clearly affects the man, his breathing becoming shallow and his whines turning into guttural moans. "I've barely done anything," you tease him just as he did earlier. "But you're already so hard."

That smirk returns instantly though weaker this time. "So what? I get hard watching you get off."

"Mh-hm," you hum unimpressed. "So what you're saying is I can do this"–you bend forward to slowly lick a stripe from the base up to the tip, giving the head a light suck–"and it does nothing for your raging hard-on?"

Whatever response is on the tip of his tongue, it disappears as soon as you put your mouth on him again, swallowing half of his length. "Ah, fuck!" His hand shoots up to hold you by the back of your head. The further you take him down your throat, the tighter his grip around your hair becomes. "Baby..."

You wish you could imprint this memory on instant film. The rosiness creeping up on his cheeks and neck compliment his smooth, milky skin so well. A thin sheen of sweat starts forming on his forehead, the strands of his dark bangs clinging to it framing his face like a picture. He's beyond beautiful, especially when he falls apart under the touch of your hand and the wet, warm comfort of your mouth.

Your head bops up and down at an excruciating pace now, his hard-on covered in slick from your saliva. You ignore the stinging ache in your jaw, planning on sucking him dry. He's always been such a sucker for your blowjobs, so you want to put on the best show possible for him.

"Baby," he repeats, his voice quivering. "Please."

Slowing down your movements, you resort to running your tongue across the protruding vein on the side of his length. "Yes?"

His hands wander down to your arms. "Come here."

"Hm?" You give him one final hard suck before pulling off him with a loud pop. Still kneeling in front of the man, you feign ignorance.

Impatiently, he pulls you up to your feet. "Stop playing."

You practically fall into his arms, straddling him in the process. His hands immediately find their way to your ass, grabbing a handful causing you to gasp. "What now?" you ask innocently, covering him with your slick as you grind down on him.

Drawing you in for a heated kiss, he drags your pelvis down onto his even harder. "Hands and knees, baby," the man orders with a sharp slap to your ass.

You don't waste another second, complying as you crawl off his lap. Getting into position with your butt high up in the air, you can hear his feet shuffle across the hardwood floor. He reappears in your vision shortly after, rummaging through the drawers of the bedside table.

"Shit," he curses harshly. "I thought I had some in here."

No further explanation is needed to understand what he's referring to. Sitting up on your heels, you watch Yoongi run a hand through his hair in distress.

"Can you check the other side?" he suggests, his eyes set on you.

"Sure." Leaning over the edge of the bed, you sift through the drawers though without luck.

Yoongi usually keeps the condoms on his side, the right side. When you were together, you would occupy the left side which is closer to the window. You always preferred the one closest to the window. It didn't matter much to Yoongi which side he slept on, but he made sure yours was always cleared so you could store whatever stuff you wanted. From any type of jewelry you took off before going to sleep, to snacks or books you brought with you that day – you always had your space within his home. And going through what were once your drawers, you realize nothing much has changed. They look rather uninhabited, no traces of you or him – or even someone else which is a concern that crosses your mind now.

He scratches the back of his head. "Fuck..." His voice comes out in defeat. "Maybe I can ask one of the other guys–"

"Don't!" You grab him by the wrist before he can wander off.

Confused, he looks down at your hand then back at you. "Why? You don't want to anymore?"

Shaking your head, you murmur sheepishly, "That's not it." There's a beat of silence as he waits for more. You swallow down the lump in your throat before you elaborate further, "Have you been with anyone else after..."

He holds your gaze, his eyes turning somber at your insinuation. "No."

His answer his short, but it's all you need to know. Min Yoongi might be the master of poker faces, but when it comes to you you can read the man like a book.

"Have you?" he follows up.

You shake your head. "Me neither."

Your reply seems to loosen some of the tension Yoongi was harboring, his body language becoming much more relaxed. Intertwining your hand with his, he inquires with a spark in his eyes, "Are you still on the pill?"

Giving him an affirmative answer, you interlock your fingers with his free hand as well. Your gesture changes the mood for good, his signature gummy smile making its return. You pull him closer until you're chest to chest. Sending him a light peck to the corner of his mouth, you curl your fingers around the edges of his shirt, peeling it off his torso.

He chuckles, raising his arms into the air in compliance. His hair ends up slightly disheveled once the clothing drags over his head. As you're smoothing it out for him, he asks, "Are you sure you're okay with this?"  

You give it another second of thought. It wouldn't be the first time you've done it without extra protection. You started birth control once things became serious between the two of you. Over the course of your relationship, you would stick to double protection mostly to stay on the safe side. Now that you're back here with him and your first time ever since is going to be raw, it puts so much more significance to the situation – but that's what you want. You want to be with him all the way.

"I'm okay with this," you assure him with another peck to his lips. "Are you?"

Nodding his head, he allows you to drag down his pants and underwear that still hang around his thighs, letting them pool around his ankles. You're about to crawl back onto the bed when he stops you midway.

"What?" You look at him from across your shoulder. "What's wrong?"

His arm wraps around your middle, turning you on your back. "I wanna look at you."

With bated breath you watch his eyes linger on your face, taking in every inch of it as if he's trying to paint a picture of you in his mind. God. If he's not going to do anything, you're going to have to eventually –

Cupping your chin, he then kisses you deeply while entering you slowly.

Your reaction is immediate, gasping against his mouth as he sheaths himself inside of you. Thank God. Finally.

The feeling is all too familiar though it still needs some time getting used to. He prepped you well at least, so it doesn't take too long until pleasure ultimately replaces the stinging sensation.

"Fuck," he curses as he moves at a moderate pace. "I missed you."

You hold onto his arms resting beside your head. "I missed you, too."

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

It's like this flips a switch inside of him, his movements becoming more eager and carnal. He fills you up to the hilt, thrusting in and out of you with vigor. The silver pendant of his necklace swings back and forth wildly, grazing across your chest.

Your nails leave crescent shaped marks around his biceps. You're reduced to moans and curses. How long have you been hoping for this? Within those three months without him, you never considered a chance of getting back together – but you also haven't stopped thinking about the possibility of it. It seemed so farfetched due to all the circumstances. You had ruled it out immediately. But your fantasy always ran wild with the idea of it. And now your fantasy has become reality.

A particularly hard thrust has you practically screaming. You're quick to cover your mouth, your hand clasping it shut.

"Don't do that." Yoongi grabs ahold of it, holding it down above your head. "I wanna hear you." As if to test you, his hips rut into you faster and harder.

This ultimately does the trick, and you certainly don't disappoint as you let out lustful sounds loud and clear. Your focus should be on the here and now – in the arms of the man that you love so much. Nothing else and no one else should matter. "O-oh God, Yoongi!"

He sends you a satisfied grin as he sits up on his heels, his hips still snapping into yours. "Turn around."

With a mocking voice you tease him, "I thought you wanted to look at me."

"Yeah," he states nonchalantly, separating his sweaty bangs. "Now I wanna see the other side."

You let out an amused chuckle but abide alas, turning around on your side first before falling forward on your hands, your ass on full display for him.

"Perfect," he praises, caressing your cheeks with both hands. "You're doing great, baby."

Seconds pass before you feel his tip slide past your folds again. The stretch is different in this position, deeper and more thorough. You don't even notice yourself backing into him, your behind pressed flush to his pelvis.

"A little eager, aren't we?" One of his hands comes down to spank you, but before you even get a chance to complain he continues his onslaught, rolling his hips into your backside with deliciously slow yet harsh thrusts.

"Oh my God!" You lower yourself until your chest comes into contact with the mattress. "Yoongi…"

The telltale sound of skin slapping against skin echoes off the walls though they're not enough to drown out your sounds. As he gradually picks up his pace, your moans turn unstoppable. It's like an out-of-body experience – and judging by the noises coming from the man behind you he seems to be thoroughly enjoying himself as well.  

"Fuck, baby…" Yoongi's grip on your hips tightens. "You take me so well."

You desperately nod your head at no one in particular before burying it in between your folded forearms as you withstand his force. There's a burn you're trying to ignore that spreads along your thighs, but the longer you hold out the easier you lose posture until you collapse like a house of cards.

"Here." His hands guide you further up on the mattress until you're on your half of the bed. "Lay down."

You flop down onto your back like a brick, drawing a chuckle out of Yoongi.

As he positions himself beside you, he puts your legs together rolling you onto your side.  

"Oh..." You watch him with wondrous eyes as he settles down onto the space behind you. "This is new."

"Yeah." He grins while looping an arm around you, burying himself in your heat again. "Thought you needed a break."

At that, you chuckle lightly. "How thoughtful of you."

"Right?" With one sharp thrust, he hits you right in your g-spot. "Aren't I thoughtful?"

You moan out as he continuously pistons in and out of you, unable to answer in coherent sentences. "Mh-hm, so th-thoughtful."

His hand resting on your belly trails down to your thighs, spreading them ever so slightly so he can toy with your clit. The other squeezes through a crevice he creates between you and the bed to play with your tits.

When you think this is the highest of pleasure you can experience, he proves you wrong again. As his hips and hands move together in a perfect rhythm, he has the audacity to nip at your neck at the same time. His hard cock driving in and out of your pussy while he draws circles on your clit, pinches your nipple, and laves his tongue over your neck – this overstimulation sends you straight to the verge of another orgasm.

"Yoongi…" You twist your head around, resting it against his. "I'm gonna cum again."

"Okay." His features are contorted, one of the telltale signs of his own high incoming. "I'm about to cum, too."

Grabbing onto the hair on the back of his head, you press your lips together. The position proves itself as slightly awkward but is no obstacle to the heated kiss you're able to share.

Parting for a split second, Yoongi mumbles against your lips, "Should I pull out?"

You give it a moment of serious thought, shaking your head. As much as you loved when he used to finish somewhere on your body, you loved it the most when he finished inside. It always felt the most intimate, connecting the two of you on another level. "Cum inside me," you clarify, your walls already starting to flutter at the thought of it alone.

It's apparent the male is affected by your command, trying his hardest to send the two of you over the finish line. His eyes are shut, and his forehead crinkled into deep creases. "Baby," he huffs out with shallow breaths, "cum for me, please."

His plea along with his relentless ministrations seem to be the final straw for you, that long awaited orgasm exploding within you like a firework. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you manage out a hoarse moan, involuntarily clamping your thighs shut while your legs twitch.

"O-oh fuck!" Yoongi also finds his release right away, emptying himself inside of you. "Shit!"

You barely register the profanities leaving his lips, but once he's reduced to mere whimpers you come back to reality. You always thought they were the sweetest sound in the world, such a contradiction to the strong and secure exterior of Min Yoongi.

The two of you lie there entangled with one another, catching your breaths. It could be a matter of a few minutes or maybe even an hour that you bask in the afterglow until Yoongi breaks the silence. "Come on," he murmurs, caressing your cheek. "We gotta clean up. Take off your make-up and all that."

You agree although with an annoyed grunt, slowly heaving your strained limbs from the bed one by one. There's a slight chill in the room now that your body has acclimated without the added body temperature from Yoongi and the physical exertion.

The touch of a fabric being draped across your shoulders causes you to jump a little. Inspecting the piece, you realize it's Yoongi's shirt from earlier. Thanking him, you slide it on as you stand up to your full height. Your legs are like jelly and there's the telltale ringing in your ears.

"Can you walk?" Yoongi inquires, coming to stand beside you. He’s back in his boxers, inspecting you with care.

Sending a timid nod of your head, you take a step but stumble over your own feet.

His arms reach out for you just in time to prevent the fall. "I went too hard on you. I'm sorry, darling."

"'s alright," you slur into the crook of his neck. "I liked it. A lot."

A smug grin finds its way onto his features. "Now come on," he chuckles. "Let's get you cleaned up."

You're more than thankful in this situation that Yoongi's room is one of the two in this household with an en-suite bathroom (the other belonging to Seokjin – being the eldest comes with benefits for sure) since your legs almost give out at any step despite leaning onto him while you walk.

After you take care of your situation down there, Yoongi runs a warm washcloth along the inside of your thighs for good measure. You thank him with your mouth agape, watching him in astonishment while you're propped up on the sink countertop for balance. It's beyond you how you could agree to the break-up so easily when he's always been so attentive to your needs, has always taken care of you without you even asking.

"There." He rises back to eye-level with you. "All good now."

You turn around to face the mirror, looking around for the things you need to in order to wash up. "Do you have a spare toothbrush?" you ask.

The man takes a second to process your request before his hand curls around the handle of one of the upper drawers. "I actually..." He hesitates. "I've got a few things you could use."

When he opens the drawer, your breath hitches in your throat. "I forgot I left these here," you murmur, inspecting the items revealed to you.

"Yeah..." Yoongi scratches the back of his head. "When you said you didn't need them, I tried throwing them away, but... I just couldn't."

You fairly remember the scene, storming out of the house after that talk, and when Yoongi told you he still had stuff of yours when you came over to drop off his you answered in anger 'Keep it or throw it out'.

With a trembling hand, you reach for the pink headband next to the rest of your skincare products. You don't want it to happen, but tears spring up in your eyes. Trying to keep them at bay, you throw your head into your neck, but to no avail. The first tears roll down your cheeks, so you turn away from Yoongi in shame, letting them fall freely.

"Hey," Yoongi coos, his hands coming up to rub soothing circles into your arms. "It's okay, honey. It's in the past now."

You feel so endlessly guilty of how things have turned out. All you want is for it to work out with him.

He continues consoling you, "We're gonna do better this time. But we have to be honest with each other." One of his hands slide down to intertwine with yours. "So no more of that hiding shit."

You let him spin you around in your spot. Looking up at him through blurry vision, you wrap your arms around his neck. "I want this to work out, Yoongi," you croak out choked up on tears. "I really want this to work out."

"It's gonna work out," he assures you, his arms around you as tight and secure as ever. "We're gonna make it work."

As you pull apart, he swipes his thumb over the last of the remaining tears on your cheek before placing a chaste kiss on it. The gesture draws a smile back onto your face, soothing your haywire state.

It's so domestic how you stand next to each other now brushing your teeth and doing your skincare routines, pulling silly faces at one another through the mirror – and before you know it you're racing him back to the bed, drifting off into peaceful slumber with his chest pressed to your back.

Sunlight peeks through the blinds as you blink your eyes open. You're sore all over, the memory of last night hitting you like a bat over the head though it draws a smile on your lips – especially since his arm is still draped over your middle.

Carefully rolling over onto your side, you're met with a half-asleep Yoongi, his eyelids still heavy as he peers at you.

"Sorry, did I wake you?" you whisper, your smile widening at his cute face.

He shakes his head, burying his face into the pillow. "Mh-mh." His voice comes out muffled, thick with sleepiness. "I woke up a minute ago or so."

You place your hand on his cheek at which he turns his head again. Rubbing your thumb across his soft skin, you shuffle closer to peck him on the lips.

He seems slightly more awake after that, chasing after your lips for another.

You still can't believe this is how you ended up. All the trials and tribulations brought you back together in the end. A huge thank you is due to be said to Jimin.

Yoongi props himself up, looking around the room in search of something. Once his eyes land on the bedside table next to you, he speaks up, "Pass me my phone, please?"

You hum out in affirmation, bending over to the side to retrieve the device.

He settles back down on the bed when you hand it to him, welcoming you with open arms as you cuddle up to him. Tapping on the screen, he unlocks the phone to a plethora of messages. He opens the most recent chat with Jimin.

You're not one to sneak a peek, but it's hard not to when it's right in front of your face. When you read the last message, heat creeps up into your cheeks.

from Jimin [12:04 AM]

i'm glad you guys managed to "talk things out" 😉

"Oh God." You hide your face in the crook of his neck. "They know."

"Of course they know," Yoongi replies with a chuckle. "We were gone for the rest of the night." He types out a quick reply before tossing the phone onto the space beside him. "On top of that, we weren't exactly quiet," he jokes, wrapping his arms around you pulling you flush to his chest.

You linger in embarrassment for a little longer until you can't help but laugh along with him.

A soft knock on the door ends your chatter early to which Yoongi answers with a chipper 'Come in'.

The door cracks open ever so slightly, the chestnut-brown of Seokjin's mop of hair coming into sight. "Everybody decent?" he questions before correcting himself. "Well, you wouldn't have told me to come in if not." Swinging the door open wider until he's more than a floating head without a body, he adds, "Uh... Breakfast's ready."

"Alright, thanks," the younger male responds. "We'll be down in a bit."

"So you guys are good again?" The corners of Seokjin's mouth tug upward as if he doesn't know the answer already.

Yoongi sends him an assuring smile. "Yeah, we're good."

"Good, good. That's a relief." It looks like he's on his way out before he adds with a teasing grin, "Otherwise I would've had no other choice but to ask for your hand in marriage, _____, because that kiss last night was something else. Like wow–"

A loud thud sounds as Yoongi throws his pillow at the older male with full force. Seokjin's fast reflexes save him though as it knocks against the closing door instead.

You shake your head at the eldest’s shenanigans.

"Say…" Yoongi starts again, acting as if what just happened a second ago didn’t. "I’m gonna have to go on some trips starting next month."

Your ears perk up at that.

"I know I can’t take you with me on all of them, and I’m not gonna force you, but…" He studies you with careful eyes. "Do you think we can make something work? Like you keep me company for at least one of them?"

Tracing shapes across the smoothness of his chest, you answer, "It’s a little short notice, but I’ll talk to my manager first thing Monday morning."

He cracks a crooked smile. "If not, we’ll figure something out."

"We’ll figure something out," you repeat as an assurance to him but also yourself. "What’s important is we both gotta be comfortable with what we’re doing and be patient with the process. Chances are things aren’t gonna run smoothly right away."

His smile grows wider at your addition. "Yeah, exactly.” Pulling you closer to his chest, Yoongi says the next sentence with an underlying tone of regret. "I hope you know it’s not your fault."

Your fingers curl tighter around his figure.

"I was just as guilty myself, I made just as many mistakes." Tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, he trails, "So please, don’t put all the blame on yourself."

Last night you would’ve cried in an instant, but you’re in a much better state this morning. Now you know you both have things to improve in order to move the relationship forward.

Lifting your head off his chest, you nod at him with a small smile. "Thank you for letting me know. And the same goes for you as well."

He reciprocates your smile before pulling you down towards him, pressing your lips together. "I love you," he repeats the words from last night.

Your heart flutters in your chest. "I love you, too." You resume the kiss, your hands roaming around his naked torso. "Do you think breakfast can wait? I feel like"–slinging one leg over to the other side, you straddle him–"I was kinda lazy last night."

At that, he gives you an all-knowing grin and the rest is history.

[blizzardfluffykpop]

Camellia

Summary: He’d give you everything you ever wanted if you asked for it. He gave you his heart, as you gave him his. And if you asked for the moon, he’d throw a lasso around it and pull it down for you.

Fluff, Angst? (Existential? Worries of Unfaithfulness?), Mafia au, Slightly Suggestive, Established Relationship au

Word Count: 1,563

Minghao (The8) X Reader

[Mentions: Chan and Wonwoo]

Not Requested

Prompt: 8. (Bias) giving you frosted flowers

(Influences: RPS episode from Going SVT, and Highlight/IDUBILY performance from the Follow concert-movie. (Oh, and “It’s a Wonder Life”))

[A/n: Little different then how I usually write- but the china line has done numbers on my brain. But please enjoy anyways. Oh, and a special thanks to @jinkoh for pulling me further down the rabbit hole. Also, it's prompt 8 with the8 hehe~] 

------

As a mafia man, he can get anything he wants, any time he wants it. So, if you wanted the moon, he’d throw a lasso around it and pull it in for you. And when you mentioned in passing that you really enjoyed these frosted flowers that you saw all over your socials. He knew what he had to do. And when he asked you about them, you’d shrug and go, ‘It’s no big deal, they’re probably just fake anyway.’ He’d have his men figure it out.

When he started dating you, he knew you were the one with how you calmed him. You quailed his angry heart, the heart that only ever wanted revenge and to watch the world burn for his childhood. But you, you were like a summer breeze that overtook his mind. You made him realize what it felt like to cool down, and finally start healing that part of himself. And when he had to lend you the reins, he saw just how perfect you were for him.

It was six months into your relationship when he had gotten sick. And he had asked you to oversee his operations. He never told you, but he watched the cameras through his phone to make sure you were safe. Although he knew you were good with a gun and a knife now, he still worried. He smiled as he watched you. At first, his lackeys were iffy. You had just started being his partner, not their boss. So, they were rolling their eyes and the second they stopped talking over you. You turned ruthless, and if he felt better, he’d be doing more than just watching you. And they instantly fell into line, following your every instruction even after he got better. While he has found you attractive from the moment you walked into his life. He fell even harder in love with you the second he saw your capabilities on the field. You were stronger and sweeter than he could have ever imagined. So, whatever you wanted, even if it was small, like a side-off request. He’d get it for you. 

While he was still a ruthless and fast mafia boss, he still took time to be quiet and slow with you. He sees your woes as his own and cares for them kindly. When you’ve had a bad day, he’ll make sure his men take care of it while he takes care of you. You became his number-one priority faster than he could speak. For the fastest-working man in the business and the quickest on his feet, you’d leave him stunned and speechless. Unable to breathe just because you said, ‘Hi’. He prays that you never walk in when he’s interrogating someone, or he’d be dumbstruck and forget his own name. 

And while it wasn’t a request, and it was just something you saw, he asked everyone around his estate. Wondering if they knew any florists who could get him real frosted flowers. Someone who would ensure the flowers live long and prosper even with the frost on them. It took a week before he found the man who could make it happen. Wonwoo, while he was associated with another mafia, Minghao knew he was the only one who could make his lover's dreams come true. So, he did what any sensible man would do, and informed him that he was only there for flowers not for business. And Wonwoo agreed to curate them, even though their relations were tense at the time. After all, that’s why he opened his shop after his mafia had soared to rival Minghao’s. And after a few visits at the floral shop, he got not one but three versions of the same flower. 

One of the gifts was tea he'd make for you after showing you everything he got you. He barked orders to the others as he headed to the base, your guy's home, “You better make sure none of those pesky rats are following us. I know they okayed my flowers, but they better stay the hell away.” Chan immediately went, “Yes, sir, right away, sir.” He stayed behind in his souped-up Lincoln, waiting and checking his mirrors. All was clear as Minghao drove safely to the base. No one dared to follow him except his men as he sped home. When he arrived home, after opening various locks, he walked to his part of the house, his door opening with an eyeball scan. While the others accompanying him, except Chan, went to their parts of the estate. He walked through the door, kicked off his shoes, and ensured you weren’t around before heading to the kitchen, where he found you.

He pouted but quickly shook it off and set the planter and bags aside before coming around the island. You were on alert the second he said, “Baby?” You turned around fast, pointing a buttered knife at him. He moved back, and you quickly apologized, “Sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.” He laughs, “It’s okay.” You put it down and said, “You’re home sooner than I expected. Why’s that?” He holds back his smile before moving his hand out from behind his back and showing you a bouquet of frosted camellias. You blink at him, trying not to cry, and yet you still do as you accept them from his hands. “How did you get these?” He smiles, “I pulled a few strings, but it was easy.” You squint, “Nothing bad, right?” He shakes his head immediately, and you happily hug the bouquet to your chest before moving it into one hand and opening your arms for him. 

He happily accepts your affections and wraps his arms around you tightly, “You didn’t have to.” You whisper into his chest, and he laughs, “I wanted to.” You mumble, and he asks you to repeat it. And you ask, “But why?” And he sighs softly, “You want the moon? Just say the word, and I’ll throw a lasso around it.” You move your head up to look him in the eyes, “Hao…” He smiles, “What?” You shake your head and lift your hand to run your fingers through his long hair, “I love you, you softie.” He waits for you to pause your movements before kissing your forehead, “I love you too, baby.” You pull away, untangling your fingers from his hair. When you sniff the flowers, you get a good look at them and realize they’re camellias. “Don’t these mean love, affection, beauty, and refinement?” He hums and says, “Excellence and faithfulness, too.” You look him in the eyes, “Do you mean every word?” He smiles, looking deeply into your eyes, “Every word.” 

It’s always been a silly worry implanted into your head that someone as powerful as him would want loads of lovers. But he only wants you, that he’ll always stay faithful to you. “Positive?” You ask one more time just in case, and he smiles. He grabs your hand and raises it to his lips, “I promise to always remain faithful to you and only you.” Before kissing your hand and continuing, “I vowed it the second I laid eyes on you. You’re the only one for me.” You try not to let your tears fall as he goes, “I got two other things for you.” You whine, “Hao!” And he giggles, “I know. But I want to give you everything I can.” You shake your head at him, and he pulls away, walking around the island. And picks up and puts a large pot on the counter, “There are the same flowers, not frosted, but grown throughout gentle winter conditions.” You nod, and he smiles as you look at them more thoroughly. After you look over the beautiful blooms, he puts the tea box on the counter, “I thought we could have a tea ceremony with it.” You smile, “I’d love to.” 

While he begins prepping for the ceremony, you finish buttering your bread and bring the two slices over. You join him on the ground, just by your balcony door. He pours out the first cup before pouring you a glass and him one. You drink it and take in the warmth and tranquility. Maybe it was the calm before the storm. Maybe tomorrow will be different. But what you both have is right and right now. And that's all you two needed. 

He has you both meditate, and all you can think as you close your eyes is that not every day you have is promised with him. You sigh. Is tomorrow ever really promised to anyone? No. And while he may have a dangerous living. As long as he was precautious, as he always is, he'd be okay. And he'd always return to your arms. And if the beautiful queens of winter, the camellia flowers, can survive the winter. So could the two of you. When you finally open your eyes, you see him contentedly staring at you, “What?”  He grins, “You look so beautiful.”  “Hao!”  He giggles, “I love catching you off guard.” “Whatever you say, my handsome prince.”  He blushes at that, and you can't help but smirk. It would be okay. Because if one of you needed anything or wanted something. Whether it was from the smallest of things to the largest of problems, you'd have each other's back.

[onigiriico]

Fuuta audio drama (t2) - English TL

[ links: Spotify | YT Music ]

WELL THIS SURE WAS. AN EXPERIENCE. I’m pretty sure this is the fastest I have translated a vd since Mikoto’s & that speaks for itself tbh lol

As always, if you spot any mistranslations, have questions about specific lines, want to use this translation for something, etc., feel free to send me an ask or reach out to me on Twitter and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can!

⬇️ translation under the cut ⬇️

(door opens)

F: Hmph. Took your sweet time, Warden.

E: Fuuta… you… (sits down) Are you okay? That… does it hurt?

F: What, you’re interested in this injury? (laughs) Looks nasty, doesn’t it?

E: (noise of agreement)

F: Even now, my whole body still hurts so bad I can’t stand it… I feel like I’m gonna lose my mind. If old man Kazui hadn’t been there, this wouldn’t have been the end of it. Geez, people who resort to violence are the worst, aren’t they?

E: Yeah. Trying to resolve conflict through violence is unacceptable.

F: Is that so?

E: That’s… Kotoko did that, right?

F: Huh? You sure seem interested. You were the one who allowed her to do that, weren’t you?

E: No, that’s—

F; Are you satisfied? Since you decided not to forgive me. (laughs) Are you satisfied, dishing out punishments that are easy to understand?

E: That’s wrong…!

F: Huh?

E: I didn’t wish for you to get a punishment like this! And I didn’t instruct Kotoko to do that, either. Punishments executed through violence…

F: Huh…

E: I didn’t think it would turn out this way.

F: (laughs)

E: What’s so funny?

F: Big words. You did want this – this. Me looking like this

E: You’re wrong! Finding out why you all became murderers and figuring out how to judge you – that’s all I’m looking to do—

F: Hey. Look at me. My right eye. It looks awful, doesn’t it? This is what happens when you get stepped on with those safety boot-like shoes. – Don’t recoil like that, that’s hurtful. According to Shidou, it’s likely that I won’t ever be able to see [with this eye] again. Sucks, huh.

E: I didn’t—

F: “I didn’t want that to happen,” is it? But y’know, thanks to this pain, I finally figured out what the whole deal about Milgram is.

E: What do you mean?

F: I mean, you forgave Kotoko, right? You affirmed her, right? Her belief that “it’s fine to do whatever to people who have done something wrong”.

E: How do you know about that…?

F: She told me while she was beating me up. How she thinks it’s okay for her to do anything she wants to people who have done wrong, no matter the severity of their crime. And she left the judgment of that up to you.

E: …

F: You forgave her for feeling that way. You–

E: It’s true that I got a bad feeling about that side of her. When she said there are times where it’s necessary to stand up as justice against evil… (?)

F: (laughs) Milgram changed shape according to your judgment. The standards of judgment, the world that you want… this is what they’re all about, huh?

E: … It’s not like that…!

F: Not forgiving me, but forgiving Kotoko… that’s what it boils down to, isn’t it? Isn’t this the result you wanted? (leans back) You’re laughing, aren’t you? Even now, seeing what shape I’m in.

E: You’re wrong! I—

F: “...didn’t think it’d turn out like this” – right?

E: A-ah…

F: I get that. I get it.

E: Fuuta…

F: But still… why? (screams) Me, too! I was like that, too! I also didn’t think it’d turn out that way!

E: Fuuta…

F: I’m in the same boat as you, and yet– and yet— You didn’t forgive me, did you!? What did I do? All I did was say that what’s wrong is wrong! I was just going off at a bad person online! I didn’t even take it as far as to be violent towards them, unlike what you’re doing right now!

E: Still, Milgram has judged that you’re a murderer!

F: …You…! – Ack, it hurts…

E: …

F: …Apparently they’re dead. That’s true.

E: Then what you did wasn’t “just” to go off at someone online. You killed someone.

F: But all I know is the outcome of them being dead! There’s no way to know whether that had anything to do with my actions, is there?!

E: Milgram judged that—

F: Like I know about any of that!

E: Calm down, Fuuta. You’ll make your injuries worse.

F: Right…! It wasn’t just me alone who was ganging up on the person who died! There’s no way to know whose comments lead to their death!

E: That might be true. You might not be the only one who needs to be judged for this. But…

F: Then – isn’t it weird that I’m the only one who has to go through all of this? Being locked up in a weird nonsensical prison, having to let some brat lecture me, being faced with eyes constantly judging me… And even if– even if the person I was picking on online died… I didn’t think they would die! I just thought that wrong things are wrong, and that a crime is a crime! You get that, don’t you? See? Aren’t we the same?

E: You and me… the same? Me, who decided not to forgive you without thinking that you would get severely injured, being the same as you, who killed without thinking that the other person would die – is that what you’re trying to say?

F: That’s right. What’s the difference? Mahiru is still on the brink of death! If she had died from that, we’d be exactly the same!

E: …Don’t make a fool of me.

F: Huh?

E: I’ve seen it! The way you got amusement out of your actions like it was just a game! The way you so easily elevated yourself to act as a one-person jury! That, being the same as me?!

F: …!

E: You’ve got to be kidding. I am the Warden of Milgram, the one who judges your sins. It’s not just you and Mahiru – I’ve faced all ten of you prisoners with my own life. Don’t lump me in with someone like you, who used someone’s sins for cheap entertainment!

F: (bursts into laughter) You’ve gotta be a complete idiot!

E: Excuse me?

F: Just how big of a deal do you think you are? Seems like that fancy hat and outfit of yours are making you feel real high and mighty.

E: Careful with your words, prisoner no.3.

F: You faced all of this seriously? For real? You didn’t feel the slightest bit entertained by my crime or my punishment?

E: What are you…?

F: Listen. I could hear your voice, too. The whole time. Voices I didn’t even want to hear… the whole time! Even if I covered my ears, I could still hear them in my head!

E: …

F: Countless voices, judging me with all sorts of words… out of interest, just for fun, out of resentment. (laughs) None of that made you sound like as good of a person as you’re telling me you are. You haven’t been any different from me. 

E: Yuno mentioned hearing them too… countless voices…

F: (laughs) There’s nothing that sets you and me apart. You’re also getting entertainment out of my– out of our sins!

E: I… just do this because I want to get to know more about y—

F: (laughs) You and I are exactly the same breed! The only difference between us is the clothes we’re wearing. Like I’d let someone like this judge whether I should be forgiven or not!

E: Fuuta…

F: So I can’t be forgiven, huh? Then you better not forgive yourself, either!

E: Fuuta!

F: What!?

E: … I get what you’re saying. Let’s say we’re the same. But even so… Even so, I am the Warden!

F: Huh?

E: No matter what you say, I won’t stop doing my job! Even if I mess up along the way, I will judge your sins. No matter what comes out of it, I will take responsibility for my own actions. This is something that I started!

F: … (sighs)

E: …

F: Hm. Is that how it is?

E: …Hey, are you okay, Fuuta?

F: No matter what I say, it’ll fall on deaf ears with you anyway.

E: What’s going on all of a sudden? Getting so docile…

F: …Hey, Es. Please listen.

E: …

F: I don’t want this either. I’m at my limit. I can’t stand it anymore. If someone died because I bashed them online and you find out about it – even if I learn my lesson from it, that won’t put an end to all of this. (?)

E: Fuuta…

F: Listen— I’ll forgive you for what you’ve done too. I’ll accept this pain. So— Please. Forgive me, I’m begging you.

E: …

F: It hurt… It hurt so bad, I thought I was going to die. I was scared!

E: Huh.

F: The feeling of getting judged by countless people at once is the worst, too… I can’t sleep, feeling like the whole world is watching me! I’m tired of everything hurting and being difficult! Please! I’m sorry! Es!

E: …Fuuta. It’s not like I hate you guys.

F: …

E: I’ve been by your side for a long time, and I’ve had a look inside your hearts. Even if you are murderers, you’re no longer just strangers to me. That connection is something that can’t be cut so easily.

F: R-right—!?

E: Seeing you hurt like this makes me regret my actions too. (deep breath) I’m feeling torn, since my judgment might have made the situation more complicated for you guys. And also, first and foremost – honestly, I’m starting to think of you all as something like comrades.

F: Es…!

E: It’s a pity…

(machinery starts whirring, bell rings)

E: …that I’m… the Warden.

F: Eh?

E: No matter what kind of suffering you’re going through, that doesn’t mean you’ll be able to evade justice. (?)

F: … That’s…!

E: Either way, I have yet to figure out what the relationship between your current, hurt self and the crime that you committed is.

F: …

E: Of course, I can’t blame you for not having words of apology to say to the person you killed.

F: …!

E: [But] if you apologize to me about things that happened in the past – it’s not like I care.

F: …! You’re wrong! You’re wrong!

E: Thank you, Fuuta. I’ve realized that this requires resolve.

F: …!

E: The warden… I have to judge the sins of my comrades without holding back, even while they’re crying in front of me. (deep breath) That’s all! The interrogation is over!

F: Es! Es!! – You…! I’ll kill you!

E: Heh.

F: Are you listening?! Forgive me! If you don't forgive me, I’ll kill you, y’know!

E: It’s alright. If you and I really are the same kind of person like you say, I’ll end up like that sooner or later anyway. – Prisoner no.3, Fuuta. Sing your sins.

[vorish-wonderland]

Hi again! I think it might be interesting to do a fic where Malleus is the pred and Sebek is the prey? There’s a few different ways you could go with Sebek’s reaction to being eaten. The obvious thought would be that he might be excited, but maybe he’d be kinda scared? It’s up to you!

Includes: Sebek Zigvolt, safe vore, soft vore, semi-unwilling prey, mention of dragon-form Malleus

✭✶Deepest Desire?!✶✭

☆ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ☆ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ☆ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ☆ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ☆ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ

"...ah... are you sure about this, Lord Malleus...?"

"Certainly, Sebek, this is the fastest way of travel, I learned it from the child of man." Malleus looked very confident. "You see, the innards provide safe cushioning and impossibility of falling off while I fly. You will be safe and contained." He paused for a moment. "At least, I think that's what they said..."

"It's just... I would never wish to question you, Lord Malleus... however..." Sebek looks forward into the large, cavernous maw of the dragon in front of him. "I've never heard of this before... and... I don't believe this has ever been documented in any book..."

"No, it has not." Malleus sounded weirdly proud of that fact. "As I have said, the child of man is the one who told me about this, they say they learned of it from a television programme from their world. How interesting, is it not? ...Shroud seemed strangely interested in it as well."

"Wait, so this hasn't even been tested-?!"

"Oh Sebek, There's no way to test something without trying it!" Malleus laughs to himself. "In you go."

Sebek was still quite unsure of this.

Nevertheless, Sebek believed and trusted in his Lord Malleus! He would never lead him astray! And so, preparing himself for whatever may come, Sebek steps into the mouth as it snaps shut behind him.

The throat of a dragon is quite long, and very tight too... quite uncomfortable and slimy... but Sebek, for some reason, did not want to complain. Not just because it was Malleus, but he was... very strangely... excited...?

"See, Sebek? Not so bad, is it~?" He can hear Malleus ask from the outside.

"Uh... well... I..." Sebek is, for some reason, having a hard time articulating his thoughts right now.

"No need to speak, I'll just assume you like it. Now, just sit back and enjoy the flight."

So then, now in the stomach of a dragon... it's surprisingly soft... surprisingly comfortable. Warm, soft, dark, the perfect place for a nap...

Sebek knows he doesn't want to be in here, and he wants the flight to be over already (though he could never tell Lord Malleus that)... however, there's a part of him that wants this to keep going... to stay forever, despite how he knows he truly feels...

...he starts to hear something.

A horrible, unpleasant, screeching noise...

It slowly gets louder and louder until-

BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP RIIIIIIING... RIIIIIIING...

Sebek looks upward, looking at the ceiling of his bedroom... wait, his bedroom?!

BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP RIIIIIIING... RIIIIIIING...

Ah, that's what the noise is... the same thing every Diasomnia student hears every morning, Silver's various alarm clocks all going off at once at 06:00 in the morning exactly.

Sebek was actually fairly glad to wake up, because that means everything that happened was a dream! Being eaten by Lord Malleus, his complicated feelings, his secret excitement about it, it all wasn't real!!

Sebek does his hair in the mirror, gets into his school uniform, prepares everything he needs for the day, and proceeds to the kitchen for breakfast.

Malleus, Lilia, and Silver are also in the kitchen.

"Hmph. Good to see you're awake on time for once, Silver." Sebek says, crossing his arms and closing his eyes proudly.

"Oh, good morning, Sebek! Good to see you so mentally well!" Lilia says to him... for some reason.

"Did you have a good sleep?" Malleus asks, drinking a cup of tea.

"Yes, I had quite a restful sleep, and I feel very well this morning." Sebek explains, lightly hitting his own chest. "Though... I did have a very strange dream."

"Yes, I did too." Silver says. "Actually, we all did, everyone in the dorm. Apparently the "herb" Father used in last night's dinner was actually blushroot... which causes you to dream about your strangest, most embarrassing, deepest desire... one you might not even know you have."

"My mistake!" Lilia smiles.

...

Why was that dream his supposedly deepest desire?????????????????

[intrigd-voyagr]

Scales

this has to be the fastest I have ever thought up and written a fic idea. The power of brainrot........

takes place after Sonny gets admin codes and he can come out of the puter for Periods Of Time because I said so

anyways Sonny Addie shippers come get y'all's food!! 720 wordss

Nestled in the rocky seam of a cave made home, Sonny and Addie lay entangled in each other’s embrace. They had taken up residence on Addie’s scavenged (but surprisingly comfortable) couch, and the naga in question insisted on resting atop the taller man, their face buried in his neck while they kept their arms wrapped securely around his neck. As reptiles do, they relished the steady heat his body provided – and even more so, because it was his.

Sonny offered no complaints to their demands - after all, he seriously doubted they could comfortably cuddle if the roles were reversed. Addie was… quite small compared to him.

So, he laid on his back and took them into his arms, resting his chin on their shoulder; utterly content.

---

He had been absently rubbing their back for a few minutes, though the act itself had his mind churning in thought. He had seen all of the scales on Addie’s limbs and face; there weren’t that many, but he marveled them all the same.

However, their back remained a mystery to him. As his hand traveled up and down their shirt, the multitude of concealed bumps underhand told him he was missing out on something rather special. It wasn’t long before his gnawing curiosity won in the end.

“Addie dearest, I’d very much like to examine the scales on your back a bit closer, if you’ll let me…?” He pinched the hem of their shirt to further indicate his interest, waiting for their response.

Addie locked up at the idea, the red bloom across their cheeks deepening in shade. ”Y-yeah, um…! Sure, i-if you want to, go ahead… but they’re not really… um… pretty.”

Sonny laughed into their hair, using his free hand to smooth down their locks soothingly. “Nonsense, love. There is no part of you I haven’t found breathtaking.”

And with that, he slowly and respectfully began to roll up Addie’s shirt, hiking it up as far as it would go.

He was met with a sea of iridescent scales, closely knit and running down the entire length and width of the reptilian’s back, the pattern only tapering back to skin near their neck and the base of their spine. The man was at a loss for words for a moment as he took it all in.

“My, Addie… you’re positively stunning,” He murmured, red tinting his own cheeks now. As he stared longer, though, he soon realized why Addie had said what they said. For each healthy scale, there was another that was jagged and dull, or even missing entirely, leaving only patches of scarred flesh in its place.

“Oh, my… But... What… what happened…? Some of these are... Who hurt you…?” his voice was pained, his fingers now gingerly ghosting across the most ragged ones. Addie was silent as they searched for a response.

“No one… well, I guess myself?” Addie laughed nervously, before realizing a bit more context was needed for an answer like that.

“…When we shed. Pulling the old scales off things like arms and legs are easy. But the back… is a two person job. Most people have family, or friends, or a partner to do it, but I, um… I never…” Sonny can feel their shoulders tense against him, and he’s hit with pang of sympathy.

“I just make do with what I’ve got - the walls, o-or trees… it gets itchy, so I go for whatever’s roughest, y’know? But the scales underneath are still pretty sensitive, so it also hurts…”

Sonny flattened his palm across the scales of their upper back, brows furrowing as he imagined the years of trauma each one was forced to endure by this world too cruel to spare a caring hand.

“Well,” he began, “you have a partner now. And I’ll make sure every shed is perfect from now on, and that you finally have a chance to heal. You won’t have to hurt yourself anymore. And never forget…”

He ran his hand down their spine slowly, memorizing the way each scale felt underhand - the rough, the smooth, the missing – and eventually settled himself in the small of their back, applying light pressure to hug them closer. With his other hand, he coaxed their face up so that their eyes met. He then leaned in close, pressing his forehead to theirs.

“You have yet to disappoint me, dear.”

[duckyfruitbat]

Fable and Gay Rep

A couple years ago I played through the first Fable game, the series by Lionhead Studio. It has a long development story about promising a living world that would grow and change as you played it with the player character even moving to the next generation. That didn't happen, instead the only time progression is that the player character seems to be the only one who ages. A bit like you're the only human living in an elven kingdom. I'm pretty sure I was older than my mother by the end of the game, I might be adopted.

While I was playing it I decided that I was going to find me a man to comfort my character as one of the few mortal beings in this world. Here's where things get a little weird, there is only one gay man per world, and it is always randomized. The one character for me was an upperclassman from the academy who used to brag about being the fastest runner on campus. Not exactly humble but whatever, I can fix him. I wooed him, proposed but then I find out that the marriage cutscene was cut for gay pairings. I don't understand why, surely it would've just been using the same code that swapped the female models around. Moving on, I decide to consummate our marriage and show my husband a good time. I bring him flowers and chocolates, we do a waltz, and then we have the idea to take things upstairs and the textbox that come up asks me if I want to "go to bed with my wife?" I think this is one of the things that were cut back during development.

Beyond that the game treats it like a regular marriage, there's even a character descriptor for sexuality that will go from unknown to gay. I moved my new husband into a nice home and Bowerstone and continued adventuring with my rapidly aging body. After every mission I come home to my immortal husband to soothe my weary soul, heavy with the burden of the atrocities I've committed not five minutes previously.

This form of queer rep is just below bare minimum, it gives the sense of a last minute addition. I remember seeing an article saying that it was originally a glitch that was mildly expanded upon, but I don't think that was ever confirmed. Nevertheless, this is still an example of representation that does exist, but again it's not exactly bare minimum. The Sims has that claim locked down.

[exoticalmonde]

Part I. Hortus de Escapismo Dr. Evealia's Reaction

Ah, finally.

Hortus de Escapismo

Garden of Escapism

Full experience includes waiting for 19837364 endless hours for the servers to open, rewatching the PV (English Version)

The animated PV

And listening to the biggest banger of a boss music without knowing any context. Including to whatever this splash art is meant to be about why does he look so... sad?

The following contains only the aftermath of the gacha and me being real chatty about the way characters look + expectations, so if you're looking for commentary of the story, please refer to Part II!

Hortus de Escapismo is on the horizon and Dr. Lundi is a radiant and unavoidable ball of excitement during the pulls. How could she NOT be??? Six months of saving, an ungodly ammount of pulls and a surprising eagerness of Executor to arrive home later (i.e. the fact out of eight 6*, only two were strangers).

Speaking of strangers, an obscure horse wandered into the pulls to remind her that he's still her number one husband and Executor comes second. Most likely because to summon Federico she changed Mlynar on her homescreen to Executor normal version and he got a little worried, the old man.

Among the 4 Doctors there's always 7 pots of each Elite, so it's no wonder the other one went to Dr. Pinkie before pity, which pretty much concluded our pulls. I don't know what happened to Dr. Kryo, but I personally didn't pull because Hoederererer is on the horizon four months from now and I am BEHIND because of Silverash Kernels.

Fastest character build ever in the world. I think maxing out characters ASMRs have to exist. It's so nice to see it happen so fast. Aesthetically pleasing, complete and right.

But since I'm giving statements that are already unrequested, I just want to say that Executor is not my type. I don't like stiffly blunt and I am also on the side of Sarkaz, so just Sanktas in general are a little... off for me. Except Enforcer, Enforcer is my baby and I would kill for him.

Go on, TRY and convince me this isn't one of the coolest arts ever. I need old 6* characters to get a revamp on their E2 art, because compared to this few can truly compare. God is behind him, holding the scythe, the statue is half a robot for whatever reason???? And it's so cool???

Not to mention that he looks exactly the same face-wise versus his E0 art, which cannot be said about, I don't know, SilverAsh, who looks like he was born in a wet cardboard box all alone in an alley.

His token is also so so so so cute, I don't know what the overall experience with listening to him talking into your ear feels like, but just-- just read this:

'A wireless earpiece. The latest of the Lateran Curia's tech products, and the same model that Executor himself currently uses. Is he giving this to you so you can stay in contact with him at any time, perhaps?'

??????????????????????????????

Cutie patootie.

Base skill not all that impressive. For some reason while looking into it Dr. Pinkie expressed surprise, because she couldn't find any other operator who gives productivity for EXP cards, but by complete accident I saw FEater is another one.

Insider's splash looks great, he's the embodyment of that one weirdo who always gets in trouble for some reason. Might be the spiky hair. Might be the army of pigeons following him.

Their voice actors are amazing so far as I heard, so we wait and see what he's like personality wise.

HIS POTENTIAL IS ABUBUBUBU

'A handwritten dessert recipe. With proportions finetuned to Insider's own personal tastes, the sugar content ABSOLUTELY exceeds recommended guidelines! This one's a pick-me-up!'

Ma'amn...

Not me. Not with that look.

Jail.

'A user manual for precision machinery. Though the only thing inside is a special phone number, since she thinks telling you what to do directly is easier. (But sometimes she'll teach you wrong on purpose–depends on her mood.)'

JAIL FOR YOU

[armpirate]

The Only One || JJK || Ch. 33

Pairings: mafia!jk x fem!reader

Genre: smut, angst, mafia, contract relationship

Warnings: Prostitution, torture, blood, use of drugs and weapons

Summary: You've always wished for a better life. Every single day at work, you were hoping something would change. Although you didn't think that change would come in the form of one mysterious man and a contract.

His controlling and selfish behaviour only wanted to keep you away from any other man that wasn't him, and you only had to wait for him.

Too bad you really thought you'd be smarter than Jeon Jungkook.

Previous || Next

MASTERLIST

Aprox. time of reading: 12 minutes

Seoul, South Korea. 10:13 pm

Jungkook walked around his place, only stopping in front of her room for a brief second, looking at all the things that were once hers -although he knew they would always belong to her no matter what. Turning back on his tracks, he went back to his room, taking his phone out of his pocket just to realize she hadn't called all day. 

She didn't send any texts, she didn't try to call after doing more than ten calls a day. Why was there nothing? Why did she go completely silent out of nowhere? And why wasn't he getting any new information about her?

Last time he received some footage update from the man that was watching her was the previous day. Although he shrugged it off because he thought that maybe Y/n didn't leave her place. He made sure she wouldn't need to work, at least until she was back at him, so it wasn't a surprise there were days she wanted to spend inside her place. But the lack of calls was what made him worry, with that thick voice in the back of his head getting him ready for the worst while he tried to contact the bodyguard.

No signal.

Something made him feel uneasy. There was something wrong, something wasn't working like it was supposed to and he didn't know about it yet, but he could sense it. 

Jungkook could tell there was something going on when she completely gave up on the calls. It was something that kept the two of them connected somehow. But it was gone now. 

—Make sure Jimin picks up the phone —he turned to one of his men—. And come to me when you have him in line. I need to speak to him. 

At the end of the day, whatever happened to Y/n was his responsibility after what Namjoon told him. She was in his territory, and one of his men was the one watching her. And the fact that the both of them were unreachable was pushing him over the edge. 

He supported the weight of his upper body on both of his hands, which were placed over the edge of his desk. His heart was beating fast against his chest, while he tried to find a way to calm his own thoughts. But it was too late. His brain was working at the fastest speed, already putting himself in the worst of the scenarios. 

He should've known better than to send her back to her country, and expect to be able to protect her from afar. He didn't like the idea of leaving her life in someone else's hands, but he did it anyway. It was a risky way to protect her, to save her life. Delusional from him. Because once Y/n entered in his life, she'd always be targeted for the information that she didn't have -but that others thought she did. 

And it was then when he regretted ever agreeing with Namjoon's idea of sending her to the other side of the world. Whoever was after her wouldn't be fooled with the little act Jungkook was putting, and he knew. 

—Sir, mister Park on the phone.

Nodding while reaching for the smartphone with his hand, he motioned the guard to leave him alone in his office. He took a deep breath, trying to sound as calm as possible, knowing that Jimin would probably close himself completely if he started the conversation by attacking him. 

—Kook, I'm busy, what do you want?

—Any news on the guard in the A location? —he directly asked.

They divided the coasts of Spain in a ranking by the importance of the location. Generally, the A was where all the movement happened, and it referred to the whole coast and surroundings by itself than a certain place. But as soon as she landed back there, her house turned into the main priority, taking the highest spot in the location ranking whenever they had to communicate.

—No —Jimin sighed—. I haven't heard a single thing from that lazy ass douchebag for a few days. And it isn't like I want to either.

His response didn't surprise him though. They both agreed that everything that was related to Y/n, territory A and that guard would fall under Jungkook's supervision -unless something bigger happened. 

—Can't you locate him?

—I keep up with where my men are all the time —Jimin sounded pissed—. This morning he was in the same location you sent him to. 

—He isn't answering the phone.

—He isn't? —Jimin's voice suddenly changed with that comment. 

—No, he isn't —Jungkook repeated—. I've called him like twenty times, and there's no answer back. I didn't hear a single thing from Y/n either in a whole ass day. She's in your fucking territory and you aren't able to keep up with what's going on?

—She isn't my responsibility, Jeon —Jimin answered, trying to stay as serious as possible—. The fact that you weren't able to keep your dick in your pants, and brought her into this mess is nobody's problem, but yours. Do you really expect everyone to stop their world for the issues you cause?

Jungkook wanted to be mad at Jimin's words, he wanted to be able to answer back at his friend for what he was saying. But he wasn't wrong. If something happened to her, it would be no one's problem but his. The only one who should feel guilt for that situation was him. 

Not Namjoon, not Jimin. Just himself.

—Jimin, please.

Jimin's frowned eyebrow slightly went back to normal when he heard Jungkook's voice, sounding so soft yet desperate while speaking about her. Usually, he was the type to shrug things off and take things easy. He was trained to keep his mind cold, and he never allowed his feelings to get in between his actions -and the few times it happened, he got a solution after stopping for a moment and thinking deeply about it. But not that time. Jungkook was begging for help, while his vulnerability for that woman was getting in the way. 

They all should've seen it coming when he gave up on Busan, or when he reunited the six members to talk about the imminent retirement that would leave Namjoon as the leader. For the first time since they all knew each other, Jungkook had something that guided his decisions other than what his father wanted for him. He was completely ignoring what he had been taught since he was a kid, changing his priorities for someone he knew for a few months only.

Looking down at his laptop, he frowned at some of the texts Chul sent him. Although Jimin ignored them when he thought that he was just complaining about his job, and insisting what was the point of him being in the same place if Jungkook would send other men to watch her anyway. 

—Did you send any other men to watch over Y/n? —Jimin asked.

—No —Jungkook kicked the desk when realization hit him—. Fuck. 

—I'll try to get more information about it. I'll call you when I have something new. 

—Hurry up.

Jimin hung up. Although he didn't even have time to think about the new information, before someone was knocking on his door. 

Trying to hold back his eyes rolling to the back of his head, he looked away when Sanhyuk stepped inside his office. With everything that was going on, the last thing he needed was to see his arrogant smile while teasing him. So for his own sake, Jungkook hoped he came with the information he needed. 

—Bad news? —Sanhyuk mocked him, taking a seat on the long couch at the side of his office, in front of the shelf filled with books. 

—I don't have the energy for your shit, so... —Jungkook encouraged him to speak about what brought him there. 

Sanhyuk sighed. It wasn't fun when Jungkook didn't play along, so he simply shrugged and rested his back against the padded backrest. 

—I got the information you wanted.

Those words got his attention fast, turning his body completely to him before he slowly started walking where he was sitting. 

He was surprised by how fast it was. Completely ignoring the ironic voice in the back of his head, that scoffed while commenting how bad Sanhyuk wanted to take him out of the way, he went back to his only focus in that moment: Y/n. 

—I didn't know you could revive the dead —Sanhyuk commented, not looking at him. 

—What?

Slowly his sharp eyes shifted from one of the books on the shelf to the man standing next to him, looking at him with a confused gaze while he tried to understand what he meant. Jungkook's eyes moved to the desk when he heard the dry sound of something falling over the coffee table, finding a beige file on it. 

—It's there —he breathed deeply—. I was shocked at first. And I suggest you sit down before you read what's in it. 

Jungkook took the file, sitting in the armchair on his right. All the papers and pictures that were in it almost fell to the ground when he saw the content.

✸ ✸ ✸

Palma de Mallorca, Spain. 01:13 pm

Y/n breathed deeply, feeling like she was drowning when she was aware of her awake body. Despite having her eyes opened, she was still in the dark, feeling a light weight over her head and the musty smell of whatever that was covering it. After she tried to move her hands to take it off, she found herself struggling with the thin, but rough, fabric that kept her wrists together, and that dug on her skin with every move she tried to make. 

There was no point in screaming, crying or begging to be set free. And she'd get nothing by moving her arms desperately. They were already hurting by the unnatural position, it made no sense to worsen her condition for no reason.

—Look who's acting like a good girl —she heard a male voice say in Spanish. 

She felt her skin frowning in the space between her eyebrows after thinking the voice sounded familiar. Her body was frozen when she felt someone's presence next to her, sticking to the ground as if that would make her situation better. Although she unconsciously moved her leg away, after feeling some fingertips tracing the curve of her knee. 

The masculine laugh sounded mocking, ironic. He was finding joy in making her uncomfortable. 

—Ironic that after working for me for so long, I manage to have you like this because of someone else —he clicked his tongue—. Life is indeed ironic.

He sighed, before he removed the bag from her head roughly, taking some of her hair with it and making some locks fall over her eyes. She couldn't say she was surprised by seeing Pedro in front of her with a smile, but it shocked her to be in that situation because of him. He had no reason to do that, she wasn't even part of his business or Jungkook's.

—Jeon did seriously suck all the energy from you, huh? —he tilted his head— Look at you so tame and chill... A few months ago, you'd have insulted me.

—Trust me, I have several things I want to say to you. I'm just holding back —she spoke for the first time—. Besides, when Jungkook finds out what you did, you'll wish you had never ever crossed paths with me. 

—You should learn when you should shut up —he pinch her cheek—. After everything I've done for you. I gave you money, a job...

—You fucking gave me a big debt that I was forced to pay later. Don't talk like you did me a favor.

—I didn't? —he frowned— If it hadn't been for me, Jorge would've died at the hands of his lender. You weren't even good at sucking a dick, but I still gave you a place here. So watch your mouth when you speak about me. After all these years, I thought you'd have learnt to be a little grateful. But I see that leaving to that new life has only made you one unthankful bitch. 

Y/n tried to move away when his hands moved past her calves over her jeans, aiming to go further.

—Maybe I should teach you the manners that Jeon didn't?

But before he was able to move further than the back of her knees, she raised her right legs and kicked him in the face. In a matter of seconds, his nose was bleeding and the jesting expression turned to an angry one. 

—Fucking whore.

He was ready to slap her and make her fall back unconscious, but the click from the door stopped him from doing it. Pedro suddenly stood up, looking at the two bodyguards and the old Asian man that stepped inside behind them. It took him one fast move of his head pointing outside, to have the man she had kicked rushing outside without giving her one last look. 

The man didn't speak. He just stared at her from his position, tilting his head from one side to the other, before he finally sighed. And while looking back at him, Y/n was able to tell there was something familiar about him. Not so much about the possibility of ever having crossed paths with him, but more about the fact that some of his features were similar to someone else's -she just wasn't able to tell who. 

—You're a hard nut to crack, huh? —he raised one of his eyebrows, nodding at her silence and challenging look— My son has one weird taste. He could've gone for someone that at least knew how to behave. But no, Jungkook had to go for the most difficult one to handle.

Hearing him mentioning Jungkook's name, right after talking about him as his son, cut all the oxygen that was coming in, feeling her throat closing off almost suddenly. Now she was able to see the similarities.

His eyes were as rounded as Jungkook's, but with hooded eyelids due to his age. Also the prominent and marked jaw despite the barely hanging skin. Both of them had the same aura, but his father's was even scarier than the one Jungkook had when she first met him. 

—Do you have any idea how you ruined things? —he peeked both of his hands inside his pockets— Everything I worked for ruined for a slut —he shook his head—. My family's legacy thrown to the trash. And all because of you. What's even so special about you that'd make my son forget what he's expected to do?

Y/n tried to hold back her moan filled with pain when his loafers pressed her ankle against the hard ground, putting all his weight in that step, making her think at some point she'd hear a crack. At least until he moved back. 

—I won't allow it —he walked towards her.

—Why don't you kill me and end it all? —she managed to say, out of breath.

—Honestly, this is his last chance —he twisted his tongue—. If he ignores this all, I'll kill you and peacefully know my son is worth his position. But if he shows up here, or sends someone to save you again, I won't give a fuck about him having my blood. Someone who doesn't respect me, doesn't deserve to live.

Hearing him speak with such coldness about his own son made her guts twist in disgust. 

The old man squatted in front of her, moving her locks away from her face to be able to look straight into her eyes. His fingers roughly held her by her jaw, fingerprints digging on her cheeks before he spoke again:

—And just hope you know, your hands will be stained with his blood if that happens.

She could've stayed still. Maybe that would've been the smartest. But knowing that all of that was a trap to test Jungkook made her blood boil. She couldn't control herself, and it wasn't like the man in front of her deserved any better treatment. Still looking at him in the eyes, she spit straight at his face. 

The old man smiled, a dark curve that augured her a bad ending while he cleaned her saliva from his face with a tissue one of the bodyguards had handed him. One last laugh that turned into silence when she felt his fist on her nose and the back of her head hitting against the wall. 

And, suddenly, everything went dark again. 

Taglist: @kaiparkerwifes @sheylamc @amy2006jones @allamericanuniverse @00frenchfries00 @massivelyfullenthusiast

[olderthannetfic]

Lil bit of a long vent, but that's what we're all here for. Eh?

When it come to book drama and awards, can I confess that I just do not care? Just like with 90% of youtube and any other drama. I just don't get why it's so overhyped this time. Seeing people bringing this up as some weird gotcha these days is honestly getting repetitive, like bringing up that you won a trophy for fastest runner in 1st grade to try and impress your date at 45... and that would probably be more impressive by now.

Man it feels like people have really been horning up and jerking themselves over that book drama with the racist review bomber for months and just... ok? Am I supposed to pretend like this is something new? Am I supposed to act all shocked that idiots review bomb books they dislike? That this isn't something I've seen happen for decades now? You want me to keep patting people on the back for calling it out this one time?

It's like this is the only thing people can talk about these days when it comes to book drama. Even a bro-bro-bro-broken record doesn't get stuck on a scratch that long. This is just par for the course, it just got easier with the internet going mainstream. I'd be more shocked if something like that didn't happen every week in some corner of the publishing world. If people at least used that as a reason to look out for this stuff instead of getting stuck on this one single instance in a sea of others like it.

Wow, congrats, you folks care about this kinda situation once. Wohooo yay for you guys, you're gonna be riding that wave until the sun stops shining. Here's your medal, you cared about it once because a random influencer spoonfed you the info with a bit more excited sensationalism. Yes yes, you did good watching a video on your phone or desktop, proud of you that you managed to watch a full 5 min video or whatever it was. Must have been real hard. You get an extra participation trophy if you wrote an angry post about it too.

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